The Moonstone

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER I

  But few words are needed, on my part, to complete the narrative that hasbeen presented in the Journal of Ezra Jennings.

  Of myself, I have only to say that I awoke on the morning of thetwenty-sixth, perfectly ignorant of all that I had said and done underthe influence of the opium--from the time when the drug first laid itshold on me, to the time when I opened my eyes, in Rachel's sitting-room.

  Of what happened after my waking, I do not feel called upon to render anaccount in detail. Confining myself merely to results, I have to reportthat Rachel and I thoroughly understood each other, before a singleword of explanation had passed on either side. I decline to account,and Rachel declines to account, for the extraordinary rapidity of ourreconciliation. Sir and Madam, look back at the time when you werepassionately attached to each other--and you will know what happened,after Ezra Jennings had shut the door of the sitting-room, as well as Iknow it myself.

  I have, however, no objection to add, that we should have been certainlydiscovered by Mrs. Merridew, but for Rachel's presence of mind. Sheheard the sound of the old lady's dress in the corridor, and instantlyran out to meet her; I heard Mrs. Merridew say, "What is the matter?"and I heard Rachel answer, "The explosion!" Mrs. Merridew instantlypermitted herself to be taken by the arm, and led into the garden, outof the way of the impending shock. On her return to the house, she metme in the hall, and expressed herself as greatly struck by the vastimprovement in Science, since the time when she was a girl at school."Explosions, Mr. Blake, are infinitely milder than they were. I assureyou, I barely heard Mr. Jennings's explosion from the garden. And nosmell afterwards, that I can detect, now we have come back to the house!I must really apologise to your medical friend. It is only due to him tosay that he has managed it beautifully!"

  So, after vanquishing Betteredge and Mr. Bruff, Ezra Jennings vanquishedMrs. Merridew herself. There is a great deal of undeveloped liberalfeeling in the world, after all!

  At breakfast, Mr. Bruff made no secret of his reasons for wishing thatI should accompany him to London by the morning train. The watch keptat the bank, and the result which might yet come of it, appealed soirresistibly to Rachel's curiosity, that she at once decided (if Mrs.Merridew had no objection) on accompanying us back to town--so as to bewithin reach of the earliest news of our proceedings.

  Mrs. Merridew proved to be all pliability and indulgence, after thetruly considerate manner in which the explosion had conducted itself;and Betteredge was accordingly informed that we were all four to travelback together by the morning train. I fully expected that he would haveasked leave to accompany us. But Rachel had wisely provided her faithfulold servant with an occupation that interested him. He was chargedwith completing the refurnishing of the house, and was too full of hisdomestic responsibilities to feel the "detective-fever" as he might havefelt it under other circumstances.

  Our one subject of regret, in going to London, was the necessity ofparting, more abruptly than we could have wished, with Ezra Jennings. Itwas impossible to persuade him to accompany us. I could only promise towrite to him--and Rachel could only insist on his coming to see her whenshe returned to Yorkshire. There was every prospect of our meeting againin a few months--and yet there was something very sad in seeing our bestand dearest friend left standing alone on the platform, as the trainmoved out of the station.

  On our arrival in London, Mr. Bruff was accosted at the terminus by asmall boy, dressed in a jacket and trousers of threadbare black cloth,and personally remarkable in virtue of the extraordinary prominence ofhis eyes. They projected so far, and they rolled about so loosely,that you wondered uneasily why they remained in their sockets. Afterlistening to the boy, Mr. Bruff asked the ladies whether they wouldexcuse our accompanying them back to Portland Place. I had barely timeto promise Rachel that I would return, and tell her everything that hadhappened, before Mr. Bruff seized me by the arm, and hurried me into acab. The boy with the ill-secured eyes took his place on the box by thedriver, and the driver was directed to go to Lombard Street.

  "News from the bank?" I asked, as we started.

  "News of Mr. Luker," said Mr. Bruff. "An hour ago, he was seen toleave his house at Lambeth, in a cab, accompanied by two men, who wererecognised by my men as police officers in plain clothes. If Mr. Luker'sdread of the Indians is at the bottom of this precaution, the inferenceis plain enough. He is going to take the Diamond out of the bank."

  "And we are going to the bank to see what comes of it?"

  "Yes--or to hear what has come of it, if it is all over by this time.Did you notice my boy--on the box, there?"

  "I noticed his eyes."

  Mr. Bruff laughed. "They call the poor little wretch 'Gooseberry' atthe office," he said. "I employ him to go on errands--and I only wish myclerks who have nick-named him were as thoroughly to be depended on ashe is. Gooseberry is one of the sharpest boys in London, Mr. Blake, inspite of his eyes."

  It was twenty minutes to five when we drew up before the bank in LombardStreet. Gooseberry looked longingly at his master, as he opened the cabdoor.

  "Do you want to come in too?" asked Mr. Bruff kindly. "Come in then,and keep at my heels till further orders. He's as quick as lightning,"pursued Mr. Bruff, addressing me in a whisper. "Two words will do withGooseberry, where twenty would be wanted with another boy."

  We entered the bank. The outer office--with the long counter, behindwhich the cashiers sat--was crowded with people; all waiting their turnto take money out, or to pay money in, before the bank closed at fiveo'clock.

  Two men among the crowd approached Mr. Bruff, as soon as he showedhimself.

  "Well," asked the lawyer. "Have you seen him?"

  "He passed us here half an hour since, sir, and went on into the inneroffice."

  "Has he not come out again yet?"

  "No, sir."

  Mr. Bruff turned to me. "Let us wait," he said.

  I looked round among the people about me for the three Indians. Not asign of them was to be seen anywhere. The only person present with anoticeably dark complexion was a tall man in a pilot coat, and a roundhat, who looked like a sailor. Could this be one of them in disguise?Impossible! The man was taller than any of the Indians; and his face,where it was not hidden by a bushy black beard, was twice the breadth ofany of their faces at least.

  "They must have their spy somewhere," said Mr. Bruff, looking at thedark sailor in his turn. "And he may be the man."

  Before he could say more, his coat-tail was respectfully pulled by hisattendant sprite with the gooseberry eyes. Mr. Bruff looked where theboy was looking. "Hush!" he said. "Here is Mr. Luker!"

  The money-lender came out from the inner regions of the bank, followedby his two guardian policemen in plain clothes.

  "Keep your eye on him," whispered Mr. Bruff. "If he passes the Diamondto anybody, he will pass it here."

  Without noticing either of us, Mr. Luker slowly made his way to thedoor--now in the thickest, now in the thinnest part of the crowd.I distinctly saw his hand move, as he passed a short, stout man,respectably dressed in a suit of sober grey. The man started a little,and looked after him. Mr. Luker moved on slowly through the crowd. Atthe door his guard placed themselves on either side of him. They wereall three followed by one of Mr. Bruff's men--and I saw them no more.

  I looked round at the lawyer, and then looked significantly towards theman in the suit of sober grey. "Yes!" whispered Mr. Bruff, "I saw ittoo!" He turned about, in search of his second man. The second manwas nowhere to be seen. He looked behind him for his attendant sprite.Gooseberry had disappeared.

  "What the devil does it mean?" said Mr. Bruff angrily. "They have bothleft us at the very time when we want them most."

  It came to the turn of the man in the grey suit to transact his businessat the counter. He paid in a cheque--received a receipt for it--andturned to go out.

  "What is to be done?" asked Mr. Bruff. "We can't degrade ourselves byfollowing him."

  "I can!" I said. "I wouldn't
lose sight of that man for ten thousandpounds!"

  "In that case," rejoined Mr. Bruff, "I wouldn't lose sight of you,for twice the money. A nice occupation for a man in my position," hemuttered to himself, as we followed the stranger out of the bank. "ForHeaven's sake don't mention it. I should be ruined if it was known."

  The man in the grey suit got into an omnibus, going westward. We got inafter him. There were latent reserves of youth still left in Mr.Bruff. I assert it positively--when he took his seat in the omnibus, heblushed!

  The man in the grey suit stopped the omnibus, and got out in OxfordStreet. We followed him again. He went into a chemist's shop.

  Mr. Bruff started. "My chemist!" he exclaimed. "I am afraid we have madea mistake."

  We entered the shop. Mr. Bruff and the proprietor exchanged a few wordsin private. The lawyer joined me again, with a very crestfallen face.

  "It's greatly to our credit," he said, as he took my arm, and led meout--"that's one comfort!"

  "What is to our credit?" I asked.

  "Mr. Blake! you and I are the two worst amateur detectives that evertried their hands at the trade. The man in the grey suit has been thirtyyears in the chemist's service. He was sent to the bank to pay moneyto his master's account--and he knows no more of the Moonstone than thebabe unborn."

  I asked what was to be done next.

  "Come back to my office," said Mr. Bruff. "Gooseberry, and my secondman, have evidently followed somebody else. Let us hope that THEY hadtheir eyes about them at any rate!"

  When we reached Gray's Inn Square, the second man had arrived therebefore us. He had been waiting for more than a quarter of an hour.

  "Well!" asked Mr. Bruff. "What's your news?"

  "I am sorry to say, sir," replied the man, "that I have made a mistake.I could have taken my oath that I saw Mr. Luker pass something to anelderly gentleman, in a light-coloured paletot. The elderly gentlemanturns out, sir, to be a most respectable master iron-monger inEastcheap."

  "Where is Gooseberry?" asked Mr. Bruff resignedly.

  The man stared. "I don't know, sir. I have seen nothing of him since Ileft the bank."

  Mr. Bruff dismissed the man. "One of two things," he said to me. "EitherGooseberry has run away, or he is hunting on his own account. What doyou say to dining here, on the chance that the boy may come back in anhour or two? I have got some good wine in the cellar, and we can get achop from the coffee-house."

  We dined at Mr. Bruff's chambers. Before the cloth was removed, "aperson" was announced as wanting to speak to the lawyer. Was the personGooseberry? No: only the man who had been employed to follow Mr. Lukerwhen he left the bank.

  The report, in this case, presented no feature of the slightestinterest. Mr. Luker had gone back to his own house, and had theredismissed his guard. He had not gone out again afterwards. Towards dusk,the shutters had been put up, and the doors had been bolted. The streetbefore the house, and the alley behind the house, had been carefullywatched. No signs of the Indians had been visible. No person whateverhad been seen loitering about the premises. Having stated these facts,the man waited to know whether there were any further orders. Mr. Bruffdismissed him for the night.

  "Do you think Mr. Luker has taken the Moonstone home with him?" I asked.

  "Not he," said Mr. Bruff. "He would never have dismissed his twopolicemen, if he had run the risk of keeping the Diamond in his ownhouse again."

  We waited another half-hour for the boy, and waited in vain. It was thentime for Mr. Bruff to go to Hampstead, and for me to return to Rachel inPortland Place. I left my card, in charge of the porter at the chambers,with a line written on it to say that I should be at my lodgings at halfpast ten, that night. The card was to be given to the boy, if the boycame back.

  Some men have a knack of keeping appointments; and other men have aknack of missing them. I am one of the other men. Add to this, that Ipassed the evening at Portland Place, on the same seat with Rachel, in aroom forty feet long, with Mrs. Merridew at the further end of it. Doesanybody wonder that I got home at half past twelve instead of half pastten? How thoroughly heartless that person must be! And how earnestly Ihope I may never make that person's acquaintance!

  My servant handed me a morsel of paper when he let me in.

  I read, in a neat legal handwriting, these words--"If you please, sir, Iam getting sleepy. I will come back to-morrow morning, between nine andten." Inquiry proved that a boy, with very extraordinary-looking eyes,had called, and presented my card and message, had waited an hour, haddone nothing but fall asleep and wake up again, had written a line forme, and had gone home--after gravely informing the servant that "he wasfit for nothing unless he got his night's rest."

  At nine, the next morning, I was ready for my visitor. At half pastnine, I heard steps outside my door. "Come in, Gooseberry!" I calledout. "Thank you, sir," answered a grave and melancholy voice. The dooropened. I started to my feet, and confronted--Sergeant Cuff.

  "I thought I would look in here, Mr. Blake, on the chance of your beingin town, before I wrote to Yorkshire," said the Sergeant.

  He was as dreary and as lean as ever. His eyes had not lost their oldtrick (so subtly noticed in Betteredge's NARRATIVE) of "looking as ifthey expected something more from you than you were aware of yourself."But, so far as dress can alter a man, the great Cuff was changed beyondall recognition. He wore a broad-brimmed white hat, a light shootingjacket, white trousers, and drab gaiters. He carried a stout oak stick.His whole aim and object seemed to be to look as if he had lived in thecountry all his life. When I complimented him on his Metamorphosis,he declined to take it as a joke. He complained, quite gravely, of thenoises and the smells of London. I declare I am far from sure that hedid not speak with a slightly rustic accent! I offered him breakfast.The innocent countryman was quite shocked. HIS breakfast hour washalf-past six--and HE went to bed with the cocks and hens!

  "I only got back from Ireland last night," said the Sergeant, cominground to the practical object of his visit, in his own impenetrablemanner. "Before I went to bed, I read your letter, telling me what hashappened since my inquiry after the Diamond was suspended last year.There's only one thing to be said about the matter on my side. Icompletely mistook my case. How any man living was to have seen thingsin their true light, in such a situation as mine was at the time, Idon't profess to know. But that doesn't alter the facts as they stand.I own that I made a mess of it. Not the first mess, Mr. Blake, whichhas distinguished my professional career! It's only in books that theofficers of the detective force are superior to the weakness of making amistake."

  "You have come in the nick of time to recover your reputation," I said.

  "I beg your pardon, Mr. Blake," rejoined the Sergeant. "Now I haveretired from business, I don't care a straw about my reputation. Ihave done with my reputation, thank God! I am here, sir, in gratefulremembrance of the late Lady Verinder's liberality to me. I will goback to my old work--if you want me, and if you will trust me--on thatconsideration, and on no other. Not a farthing of money is to pass, ifyou please, from you to me. This is on honour. Now tell me, Mr. Blake,how the case stands since you wrote to me last."

  I told him of the experiment with the opium, and of what had occurredafterwards at the bank in Lombard Street. He was greatly struck by theexperiment--it was something entirely new in his experience. And he wasparticularly interested in the theory of Ezra Jennings, relating to whatI had done with the Diamond, after I had left Rachel's sitting-room, onthe birthday night.

  "I don't hold with Mr. Jennings that you hid the Moonstone," saidSergeant Cuff. "But I agree with him, that you must certainly have takenit back to your own room."

  "Well?" I asked. "And what happened then?"

  "Have you no suspicion yourself of what happened, sir?"

  "None whatever."

  "Has Mr. Bruff no suspicion?"

  "No more than I have."

  Sergeant Cuff rose, and went to my writing-table. He came back with asealed envelope. It was marked "Priv
ate;" it was addressed to me; and ithad the Sergeant's signature in the corner.

  "I suspected the wrong person, last year," he said: "and I may besuspecting the wrong person now. Wait to open the envelope, Mr. Blake,till you have got at the truth. And then compare the name of the guiltyperson, with the name that I have written in that sealed letter."

  I put the letter into my pocket--and then asked for the Sergeant'sopinion of the measures which we had taken at the bank.

  "Very well intended, sir," he answered, "and quite the right thing todo. But there was another person who ought to have been looked afterbesides Mr. Luker."

  "The person named in the letter you have just given to me?"

  "Yes, Mr. Blake, the person named in the letter. It can't be helped now.I shall have something to propose to you and Mr. Bruff, sir, when thetime comes. Let's wait, first, and see if the boy has anything to tellus that is worth hearing."

  It was close on ten o'clock, and the boy had not made his appearance.Sergeant Cuff talked of other matters. He asked after his old friendBetteredge, and his old enemy the gardener. In a minute more, he wouldno doubt have got from this, to the subject of his favourite roses, ifmy servant had not interrupted us by announcing that the boy was below.

  On being brought into the room, Gooseberry stopped at the thresholdof the door, and looked distrustfully at the stranger who was in mycompany. I told the boy to come to me.

  "You may speak before this gentleman," I said. "He is here to assist me;and he knows all that has happened. Sergeant Cuff," I added, "this isthe boy from Mr. Bruff's office."

  In our modern system of civilisation, celebrity (no matter of what kind)is the lever that will move anything. The fame of the great Cuff hadeven reached the ears of the small Gooseberry. The boy's ill-fixedeyes rolled, when I mentioned the illustrious name, till I thought theyreally must have dropped on the carpet.

  "Come here, my lad," said the Sergeant, "and let's hear what you have gotto tell us."

  The notice of the great man--the hero of many a famous story in everylawyer's office in London--appeared to fascinate the boy. He placedhimself in front of Sergeant Cuff, and put his hands behind him, afterthe approved fashion of a neophyte who is examined in his catechism.

  "What is your name?" said the Sergeant, beginning with the firstquestion in the catechism.

  "Octavius Guy," answered the boy. "They call me Gooseberry at the officebecause of my eyes."

  "Octavius Guy, otherwise Gooseberry," pursued the Sergeant, with theutmost gravity, "you were missed at the bank yesterday. What were youabout?"

  "If you please, sir, I was following a man."

  "Who was he?"

  "A tall man, sir, with a big black beard, dressed like a sailor."

  "I remember the man!" I broke in. "Mr. Bruff and I thought he was a spyemployed by the Indians."

  Sergeant Cuff did not appear to be much impressed by what Mr. Bruff andI had thought. He went on catechising Gooseberry.

  "Well?" he said--"and why did you follow the sailor?"

  "If you please, sir, Mr. Bruff wanted to know whether Mr. Luker passedanything to anybody on his way out of the bank. I saw Mr. Luker passsomething to the sailor with the black beard."

  "Why didn't you tell Mr. Bruff what you saw?"

  "I hadn't time to tell anybody, sir, the sailor went out in such ahurry."

  "And you ran out after him--eh?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Gooseberry," said the Sergeant, patting his head, "you have gotsomething in that small skull of yours--and it isn't cotton-wool. I amgreatly pleased with you, so far."

  The boy blushed with pleasure. Sergeant Cuff went on.

  "Well? and what did the sailor do, when he got into the street?"

  "He called a cab, sir."

  "And what did you do?"

  "Held on behind, and run after it."

  Before the Sergeant could put his next question, another visitor wasannounced--the head clerk from Mr. Bruff's office.

  Feeling the importance of not interrupting Sergeant Cuff's examinationof the boy, I received the clerk in another room. He came with bad newsof his employer. The agitation and excitement of the last two days hadproved too much for Mr. Bruff. He had awoke that morning with an attackof gout; he was confined to his room at Hampstead; and, in the presentcritical condition of our affairs, he was very uneasy at being compelledto leave me without the advice and assistance of an experienced person.The chief clerk had received orders to hold himself at my disposal, andwas willing to do his best to replace Mr. Bruff.

  I wrote at once to quiet the old gentleman's mind, by telling him ofSergeant Cuff's visit: adding that Gooseberry was at that moment underexamination; and promising to inform Mr. Bruff, either personally, or byletter, of whatever might occur later in the day. Having despatchedthe clerk to Hampstead with my note, I returned to the room which I hadleft, and found Sergeant Cuff at the fireplace, in the act of ringingthe bell.

  "I beg your pardon, Mr. Blake," said the Sergeant. "I was just going tosend word by your servant that I wanted to speak to you. There isn't adoubt on my mind that this boy--this most meritorious boy," added theSergeant, patting Gooseberry on the head, "has followed the right man.Precious time has been lost, sir, through your unfortunately not beingat home at half past ten last night. The only thing to do, now, is tosend for a cab immediately."

  In five minutes more, Sergeant Cuff and I (with Gooseberry on the box toguide the driver) were on our way eastward, towards the City.

  "One of these days," said the Sergeant, pointing through the frontwindow of the cab, "that boy will do great things in my late profession.He is the brightest and cleverest little chap I have met with, for manya long year past. You shall hear the substance, Mr. Blake, of what hetold me while you were out of the room. You were present, I think, whenhe mentioned that he held on behind the cab, and ran after it?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, sir, the cab went from Lombard Street to the Tower Wharf. Thesailor with the black beard got out, and spoke to the steward of theRotterdam steamboat, which was to start next morning. He asked ifhe could be allowed to go on board at once, and sleep in his berthover-night. The steward said, No. The cabins, and berths, and beddingwere all to have a thorough cleaning that evening, and no passengercould be allowed to come on board, before the morning. The sailor turnedround, and left the wharf. When he got into the street again, the boynoticed for the first time, a man dressed like a respectable mechanic,walking on the opposite side of the road, and apparently keepingthe sailor in view. The sailor stopped at an eating-house in theneighbourhood, and went in. The boy--not being able to make up his mind,at the moment--hung about among some other boys, staring at the goodthings in the eating-house window. He noticed the mechanic waiting, ashe himself was waiting--but still on the opposite side of the street.After a minute, a cab came by slowly, and stopped where the mechanicwas standing. The boy could only see plainly one person in the cab, wholeaned forward at the window to speak to the mechanic. He described thatperson, Mr. Blake, without any prompting from me, as having a dark face,like the face of an Indian."

  It was plain, by this time, that Mr. Bruff and I had made anothermistake. The sailor with the black beard was clearly not a spy in theservice of the Indian conspiracy. Was he, by any possibility, the manwho had got the Diamond?

  "After a little," pursued the Sergeant, "the cab moved on slowlydown the street. The mechanic crossed the road, and went into theeating-house. The boy waited outside till he was hungry and tired--andthen went into the eating-house, in his turn. He had a shilling in hispocket; and he dined sumptuously, he tells me, on a black-pudding, aneel-pie, and a bottle of ginger-beer. What can a boy not digest? Thesubstance in question has never been found yet."

  "What did he see in the eating-house?" I asked.

  "Well, Mr. Blake, he saw the sailor reading the newspaper at one table,and the mechanic reading the newspaper at another. It was dusk beforethe sailor got up, and left the place. He looked about him suspic
iouslywhen he got out into the street. The boy--BEING a boy--passed unnoticed.The mechanic had not come out yet. The sailor walked on, looking abouthim, and apparently not very certain of where he was going next. Themechanic appeared once more, on the opposite side of the road. Thesailor went on, till he got to Shore Lane, leading into Lower ThamesStreet. There he stopped before a public-house, under the sign of 'TheWheel of Fortune,' and, after examining the place outside, went in.Gooseberry went in too. There were a great many people, mostly of thedecent sort, at the bar. 'The Wheel of Fortune' is a very respectablehouse, Mr. Blake; famous for its porter and pork-pies."

  The Sergeant's digressions irritated me. He saw it; and confined himselfmore strictly to Gooseberry's evidence when he went on.

  "The sailor," he resumed, "asked if he could have a bed. The landlordsaid 'No; they were full.' The barmaid corrected him, and said 'NumberTen was empty.' A waiter was sent for to show the sailor to Number Ten.Just before that, Gooseberry had noticed the mechanic among the peopleat the bar. Before the waiter had answered the call, the mechanic hadvanished. The sailor was taken off to his room. Not knowing what to donext, Gooseberry had the wisdom to wait and see if anything happened.Something did happen. The landlord was called for. Angry voices wereheard up-stairs. The mechanic suddenly made his appearance again,collared by the landlord, and exhibiting, to Gooseberry's greatsurprise, all the signs and tokens of being drunk. The landlord thrusthim out at the door, and threatened him with the police if he came back.From the altercation between them, while this was going on, it appearedthat the man had been discovered in Number Ten, and had declared withdrunken obstinacy that he had taken the room. Gooseberry was so struckby this sudden intoxication of a previously sober person, that hecouldn't resist running out after the mechanic into the street. As longas he was in sight of the public-house, the man reeled about in the mostdisgraceful manner. The moment he turned the corner of the street, herecovered his balance instantly, and became as sober a member of societyas you could wish to see. Gooseberry went back to 'The Wheel of Fortune'in a very bewildered state of mind. He waited about again, on the chanceof something happening. Nothing happened; and nothing more was to beheard, or seen, of the sailor. Gooseberry decided on going back to theoffice. Just as he came to this conclusion, who should appear, on theopposite side of the street as usual, but the mechanic again! He lookedup at one particular window at the top of the public-house, which wasthe only one that had a light in it. The light seemed to relieve hismind. He left the place directly. The boy made his way back to Gray'sInn--got your card and message--called--and failed to find you. Thereyou have the state of the case, Mr. Blake, as it stands at the presenttime."

  "What is your own opinion of the case, Sergeant?"

  "I think it's serious, sir. Judging by what the boy saw, the Indians arein it, to begin with."

  "Yes. And the sailor is evidently the person to whom Mr. Luker passedthe Diamond. It seems odd that Mr. Bruff, and I, and the man in Mr.Bruff's employment, should all have been mistaken about who the personwas."

  "Not at all, Mr. Blake. Considering the risk that person ran, it'slikely enough that Mr. Luker purposely misled you, by previousarrangement between them."

  "Do you understand the proceedings at the public-house?" I asked. "Theman dressed like a mechanic was acting of course in the employmentof the Indians. But I am as much puzzled to account for his suddenassumption of drunkenness as Gooseberry himself."

  "I think I can give a guess at what it means, sir," said the Sergeant."If you will reflect, you will see that the man must have had somepretty strict instructions from the Indians. They were far toonoticeable themselves to risk being seen at the bank, or in thepublic-house--they were obliged to trust everything to theirdeputy. Very good. Their deputy hears a certain number named in thepublic-house, as the number of the room which the sailor is to have forthe night--that being also the room (unless our notion is allwrong) which the Diamond is to have for the night, too. Under thosecircumstances, the Indians, you may rely on it, would insist on having adescription of the room--of its position in the house, of its capabilityof being approached from the outside, and so on. What was the man to do,with such orders as these? Just what he did! He ran up-stairs to geta look at the room, before the sailor was taken into it. He was foundthere, making his observations--and he shammed drunk, as the easiest wayof getting out of the difficulty. That's how I read the riddle. After hewas turned out of the public-house, he probably went with his report tothe place where his employers were waiting for him. And his employers,no doubt, sent him back to make sure that the sailor was really settledat the public-house till the next morning. As for what happened at 'TheWheel of Fortune,' after the boy left--we ought to have discovered thatlast night. It's eleven in the morning, now. We must hope for the best,and find out what we can."

  In a quarter of an hour more, the cab stopped in Shore Lane, andGooseberry opened the door for us to get out.

  "All right?" asked the Sergeant.

  "All right," answered the boy.

  The moment we entered "The Wheel of Fortune" it was plain even to myinexperienced eyes that there was something wrong in the house.

  The only person behind the counter at which the liquors were served, wasa bewildered servant girl, perfectly ignorant of the business. One ortwo customers, waiting for their morning drink, were tapping impatientlyon the counter with their money. The bar-maid appeared from the innerregions of the parlour, excited and preoccupied. She answered SergeantCuff's inquiry for the landlord, by telling him sharply that her masterwas up-stairs, and was not to be bothered by anybody.

  "Come along with me, sir," said Sergeant Cuff, coolly leading the wayup-stairs, and beckoning to the boy to follow him.

  The barmaid called to her master, and warned him that strangerswere intruding themselves into the house. On the first floor we wereencountered by the Landlord, hurrying down, in a highly irritated state,to see what was the matter.

  "Who the devil are you? and what do you want here?" he asked.

  "Keep your temper," said the Sergeant, quietly. "I'll tell you who I amto begin with. I am Sergeant Cuff."

  The illustrious name instantly produced its effect. The angry landlordthrew open the door of a sitting-room, and asked the Sergeant's pardon.

  "I am annoyed and out of sorts, sir--that's the truth," he said."Something unpleasant has happened in the house this morning. A man inmy way of business has a deal to upset his temper, Sergeant Cuff."

  "Not a doubt of it," said the Sergeant. "I'll come at once, if you willallow me, to what brings us here. This gentleman and I want to troubleyou with a few inquiries, on a matter of some interest to both of us."

  "Relating to what, sir?" asked the landlord.

  "Relating to a dark man, dressed like a sailor, who slept here lastnight."

  "Good God! that's the man who is upsetting the whole house at thismoment!" exclaimed the landlord. "Do you, or does this gentleman knowanything about him?"

  "We can't be certain till we see him," answered the Sergeant.

  "See him?" echoed the landlord. "That's the one thing that nobody hasbeen able to do since seven o'clock this morning. That was the time whenhe left word, last night, that he was to be called. He WAS called--andthere was no getting an answer from him, and no opening his door to seewhat was the matter. They tried again at eight, and they tried againat nine. No use! There was the door still locked--and not a sound to beheard in the room! I have been out this morning--and I only got back aquarter of an hour ago. I have hammered at the door myself--and all tono purpose. The potboy has gone to fetch a carpenter. If you can waita few minutes, gentlemen, we will have the door opened, and see what itmeans."

  "Was the man drunk last night?" asked Sergeant Cuff.

  "Perfectly sober, sir--or I would never have let him sleep in my house."

  "Did he pay for his bed beforehand?"

  "No."

  "Could he leave the room in any way, without going out by the door?"

 
"The room is a garret," said the landlord. "But there's a trap-door inthe ceiling, leading out on to the roof--and a little lower down thestreet, there's an empty house under repair. Do you think, Sergeant, theblackguard has got off in that way, without paying?"

  "A sailor," said Sergeant Cuff, "might have done it--early in themorning, before the street was astir. He would be used to climbing, andhis head wouldn't fail him on the roofs of the houses."

  As he spoke, the arrival of the carpenter was announced. We all wentup-stairs, at once, to the top story. I noticed that the Sergeant wasunusually grave, even for him. It also struck me as odd that he told theboy (after having previously encouraged him to follow us), to wait inthe room below till we came down again.

  The carpenter's hammer and chisel disposed of the resistance of the doorin a few minutes. But some article of furniture had been placed againstit inside, as a barricade. By pushing at the door, we thrust thisobstacle aside, and so got admission to the room. The landlord enteredfirst; the Sergeant second; and I third. The other persons presentfollowed us.

  We all looked towards the bed, and all started.

  The man had not left the room. He lay, dressed, on the bed--with a whitepillow over his face, which completely hid it from view.

  "What does that mean?" said the landlord, pointing to the pillow.

  Sergeant Cuff led the way to the bed, without answering, and removed thepillow.

  The man's swarthy face was placid and still; his black hair and beardwere slightly, very slightly, discomposed. His eyes stared wide-open,glassy and vacant, at the ceiling. The filmy look and the fixedexpression of them horrified me. I turned away, and went to the openwindow. The rest of them remained, where Sergeant Cuff remained, at thebed.

  "He's in a fit!" I heard the landlord say.

  "He's dead," the Sergeant answered. "Send for the nearest doctor, andsend for the police."

  The waiter was despatched on both errands. Some strange fascinationseemed to hold Sergeant Cuff to the bed. Some strange curiosity seemedto keep the rest of them waiting, to see what the Sergeant would donext.

  I turned again to the window. The moment afterwards, I felt a soft pullat my coat-tails, and a small voice whispered, "Look here, sir!"

  Gooseberry had followed us into the room. His loose eyes rolledfrightfully--not in terror, but in exultation. He had made adetective-discovery on his own account. "Look here, sir," herepeated--and led me to a table in the corner of the room.

  On the table stood a little wooden box, open, and empty. On one side ofthe box lay some jewellers' cotton. On the other side, was a tornsheet of white paper, with a seal on it, partly destroyed, and withan inscription in writing, which was still perfectly legible. Theinscription was in these words:

  "Deposited with Messrs. Bushe, Lysaught, and Bushe, by Mr. SeptimusLuker, of Middlesex Place, Lambeth, a small wooden box, sealed up inthis envelope, and containing a valuable of great price. The box, whenclaimed, to be only given up by Messrs. Bushe and Co. on the personalapplication of Mr. Luker."

  Those lines removed all further doubt, on one point at least. The sailorhad been in possession of the Moonstone, when he had left the bank onthe previous day.

  I felt another pull at my coat-tails. Gooseberry had not done with meyet.

  "Robbery!" whispered the boy, pointing, in high delight, to the emptybox.

  "You were told to wait down-stairs," I said. "Go away!"

  "And Murder!" added Gooseberry, pointing, with a keener relish still, tothe man on the bed.

  There was something so hideous in the boy's enjoyment of the horror ofthe scene, that I took him by the two shoulders and put him out of theroom.

  At the moment when I crossed the threshold of the door, I heard SergeantCuff's voice, asking where I was. He met me, as I returned into theroom, and forced me to go back with him to the bedside.

  "Mr. Blake!" he said. "Look at the man's face. It is a facedisguised--and here's a proof of it!"

  He traced with his finger a thin line of livid white, running backwardfrom the dead man's forehead, between the swarthy complexion, and theslightly-disturbed black hair. "Let's see what is under this," said theSergeant, suddenly seizing the black hair, with a firm grip of his hand.

  My nerves were not strong enough to bear it. I turned away again fromthe bed.

  The first sight that met my eyes, at the other end of the room, wasthe irrepressible Gooseberry, perched on a chair, and looking withbreathless interest, over the heads of his elders, at the Sergeant'sproceedings.

  "He's pulling off his wig!" whispered Gooseberry, compassionating myposition, as the only person in the room who could see nothing.

  There was a pause--and then a cry of astonishment among the people roundthe bed.

  "He's pulled off his beard!" cried Gooseberry.

  There was another pause--Sergeant Cuff asked for something. The landlordwent to the wash-hand-stand, and returned to the bed with a basin ofwater and a towel.

  Gooseberry danced with excitement on the chair. "Come up here, alongwith me, sir! He's washing off his complexion now!"

  The Sergeant suddenly burst his way through the people about him,and came, with horror in his face, straight to the place where I wasstanding.

  "Come back to the bed, sir!" he began. He looked at me closer, andchecked himself "No!" he resumed. "Open the sealed letter first--theletter I gave you this morning."

  I opened the letter.

  "Read the name, Mr. Blake, that I have written inside."

  I read the name that he had written. It was GODFREY ABLEWHITE.

  "Now," said the Sergeant, "come with me, and look at the man on thebed."

  I went with him, and looked at the man on the bed.

  GODFREY ABLEWHITE!

  SIXTH NARRATIVE

  Contributed by SERGEANT CUFF