"But what did trouble me was another run of bad luck. I lost everything. I returned to London, and placed my wife and child in the care of Jerry, who was a bachelor, and could better afford to keep them than I. Then I determined to look up Bellairs, who was now Squire of Casterwell, and horribly prosperous. On making inquiries, I learned that the vicar of the parish was dead, and that the living was in Bellairs' gift. I was terribly weary of wandering, and it occurred to me that such a position would suit me very well; at all events, for a while. It was quite a simple matter for me to impersonate Manners Brock. I had all his papers, and I was well up in the details of his early life, as well as his life in India. The creature had been a confirmed babbler, and had told me everything about himself. I had some trouble with Bellairs at first, but he soon saw it was no good. He was desperately jealous of what he called his good name. He had everything to lose; I nothing. So he did the wisest thing he could do, and gave in. I became the Reverend Manners Brock. I had no difficulty in deceiving the old Bishop of the diocese. I had all the papers, and was well up in all the necessary details. The living of itself was a poor one, but of course Bellairs had to alter that. He told me, when I approached this part of the subject, that he had sold the two diamonds for some thirty-eight thousand pounds. Then he, too, indulged in some silly nonsense about the 'price of blood' and so on, which he said had prevented his touching the money. For the last ten years it had been lying in the bank at compound interest, and had now reached something like fifty thousand pounds. I soon settled that. I made him invest the money securely, yet profitably, and pay me the interest. I felt now that I could settle down in comfort to my hardly-earned repose. I had an assured position, a good name, and a most comfortable income. There were times, of course, when I grew weary of so much respectability; but then, all I had to do was to assume some disguise and run up to London for a few days and enjoy myself. But I never went near Jerry. My wife was dead, and he looked after my daughter. So, as the Reverend Manners Brock, my life, if quiet, was pleasant enough. For years all went well, until one day there came a letter from Carson regretting that he had surrendered his diamond, and suggesting that his son--he had married in the mean time--should marry Olive Bellairs, and that the proceeds of the diamond should be given to the young people on their wedding-day. At first Bellairs refused; but Carson replied threatening exposure--more than that, he plainly gave Bellairs to understand that he would accuse him of Rao Singha's murder. For the sake of his jealously-guarded name, Bellairs was forced to yield. But he wrote to Carson telling him how, in the person of the Rev. Manners Brock, I had become vicar of Casterwell, and how he had been obliged to pay me the interest on the money.