him insane only to protect myself from the consequences of the crime, and that if I could be removed from power his liberation would at once follow. Poor, suffering humanity! who shall minister to a mind diseased? BENJIE BLUNT’S CLEVER ALIBI. How Benjie Blunt came to get his name I never could discover—possibly it was prompted by the law of contrariety, because Benjie was so sharp. His real name had not the remotest resemblance to this, but as he refused to answer to that, he was always put down in the prison books as Benjamin Blunt. Benjie’s vanity was much greater than his acquisitiveness. He liked to boast of the feats he had done, hence the cases in which he was mixed up generally showed a superlative degree of ingenuity and cunning, however small the stake. I do not find, however, that Benjie’s cleverness produced any marked diminution in the number of his convictions—indeed, it was the grave length of that list which prompted him to make such elaborate preparations in the following case. Close to the Meadows, and before that quarter was so much built upon, there was a cottage occupied by an old army surgeon, whom I may name Dr Temple, and his servant, Peggy Reid. This gentleman was a bachelor, and somewhat eccentric, and, as he had spent the most of his life in India, he was supposed to be very rich. Dr Temple was as exact and punctual in his habits and engagements as if he had been still in the army. Everything went on like clock-work in his snug little home, and if a servant did not please him in that respect, he discharged her on the spot. One of his habits was to spend every Thursday evening at a friend’s house, leaving his own house at seven o’clock, and returning at half-past ten. His house was full of Indian curiosities and nicknacks, but most of them were of a kind which could not have been readily turned into money. The cottage had a little garden in front, railed in, and had also a space at one end, in which stood a coal cellar, a wash-house, and an empty dog kennel.