The Moonstone
fingers unfastening his bandage, and extracting his gag. He looked in
amazement at two respectable strangers, and faintly articulated, “What
does it mean?” The two respectable strangers looked back, and said,
“Exactly the question we were going to ask _you_.”
The inevitable explanation followed. No! Let me be scrupulously
particular. Sal volatile and water followed, to compose dear Mr.
Godfrey’s nerves. The explanation came next.
It appeared from the statement of the landlord and landlady of the
house (persons of good repute in the neighbourhood), that their first
and second floor apartments had been engaged, on the previous day, for
a week certain, by a most respectable-looking gentleman—the same who
has been already described as answering the door to Mr. Godfrey’s
knock. The gentleman had paid the week’s rent and all the week’s extras
in advance, stating that the apartments were wanted for three Oriental
noblemen, friends of his, who were visiting England for the first time.
Early on the morning of the outrage, two of the Oriental strangers,
accompanied by their respectable English friend, took possession of the
apartments. The third was expected to join them shortly; and the
luggage (reported as very bulky) was announced to follow when it had
passed through the Custom-house, late in the afternoon. Not more than
ten minutes previous to Mr. Godfrey’s visit, the third foreigner had
arrived. Nothing out of the common had happened, to the knowledge of
the landlord and landlady downstairs, until within the last five
minutes—when they had seen the three foreigners, accompanied by their
respectable English friend, all leave the house together, walking
quietly in the direction of the Strand. Remembering that a visitor had
called, and not having seen the visitor also leave the house, the
landlady had thought it rather strange that the gentleman should be
left by himself upstairs. After a short discussion with her husband,
she had considered it advisable to ascertain whether anything was
wrong. The result had followed, as I have already attempted to describe
it; and there the explanation of the landlord and the landlady came to
an end.
An investigation was next made in the room. Dear Mr. Godfrey’s property
was found scattered in all directions. When the articles were
collected, however, nothing was missing; his watch, chain, purse, keys,
pocket-handkerchief, note-book, and all his loose papers had been
closely examined, and had then been left unharmed to be resumed by the
owner. In the same way, not the smallest morsel of property belonging
to the proprietors of the house had been abstracted. The Oriental
noblemen had removed their own illuminated manuscript, and had removed
nothing else.
What did it mean? Taking the worldly point of view, it appeared to mean
that Mr. Godfrey had been the victim of some incomprehensible error,
committed by certain unknown men. A dark conspiracy was on foot in the
midst of us; and our beloved and innocent friend had been entangled in
its meshes. When the Christian hero of a hundred charitable victories
plunges into a pitfall that has been dug for him by mistake, oh, what a
warning it is to the rest of us to be unceasingly on our guard! How
soon may our own evil passions prove to be Oriental noblemen who pounce
on us unawares!
I could write pages of affectionate warning on this one theme, but
(alas!) I am not permitted to improve—I am condemned to narrate. My
wealthy relative’s cheque—henceforth, the incubus of my existence—warns
me that I have not done with this record of violence yet. We must leave
Mr. Godfrey to recover in Northumberland Street, and must follow the
proceedings of Mr. Luker at a later period of the day.
After leaving the bank, Mr. Luker had visited various parts of London
on business errands. Returning to his own residence, he found a letter
waiting for him, which was described as having been left a short time
previously by a boy. In this case, as in Mr. Godfrey’s case, the
handwriting was strange; but the name mentioned was the name of one of
Mr. Luker’s customers. His correspondent announced (writing in the
third person—apparently by the hand of a deputy) that he had been
unexpectedly summoned to London. He had just established himself in
lodgings in Alfred Place, Tottenham Court Road; and he desired to see
Mr. Luker immediately, on the subject of a purchase which he
contemplated making. The gentleman was an enthusiastic collector of
Oriental antiquities, and had been for many years a liberal patron of
the establishment in Lambeth. Oh, when shall we wean ourselves from the
worship of Mammon! Mr. Luker called a cab, and drove off instantly to
his liberal patron.
Exactly what had happened to Mr. Godfrey in Northumberland Street now
happened to Mr. Luker in Alfred Place. Once more the respectable man
answered the door, and showed the visitor upstairs into the back
drawing-room. There, again, lay the illuminated manuscript on a table.
Mr. Luker’s attention was absorbed, as Mr. Godfrey’s attention had been
absorbed, by this beautiful work of Indian art. He too was aroused from
his studies by a tawny naked arm round his throat, by a bandage over
his eyes, and by a gag in his mouth. He too was thrown prostrate and
searched to the skin. A longer interval had then elapsed than had
passed in the experience of Mr. Godfrey; but it had ended as before, in
the persons of the house suspecting something wrong, and going upstairs
to see what had happened. Precisely the same explanation which the
landlord in Northumberland Street had given to Mr. Godfrey, the
landlord in Alfred Place now gave to Mr. Luker. Both had been imposed
on in the same way by the plausible address and well-filled purse of
the respectable stranger, who introduced himself as acting for his
foreign friends. The one point of difference between the two cases
occurred when the scattered contents of Mr. Luker’s pockets were being
collected from the floor. His watch and purse were safe, but (less
fortunate than Mr. Godfrey) one of the loose papers that he carried
about him had been taken away. The paper in question acknowledged the
receipt of a valuable of great price which Mr. Luker had that day left
in the care of his bankers. This document would be useless for purposes
of fraud, inasmuch as it provided that the valuable should only be
given up on the personal application of the owner. As soon as he
recovered himself, Mr. Luker hurried to the bank, on the chance that
the thieves who had robbed him might ignorantly present themselves with
the receipt. Nothing had been seen of them when he arrived at the
establishment, and nothing was seen of them afterwards. Their
respectable English friend had (in the opinion of the bankers) looked
the receipt over before they attempted to make use of it, and had given
them the necessary warning in good time.
Information of both outrages was communicated to the police, and the
needful investigations were pursued, I believe, with great energy. The
authorities held that a robbery had been planned, on insufficient
information received by the thieves. They had been plainly not sure
whether Mr. Luker had, or had not, trusted the transmission of his
precious gem to another person; and poor polite Mr. Godfrey had paid
the penalty of having been seen accidentally speaking to him. Add to
this, that Mr. Godfrey’s absence from our Monday evening meeting had
been occasioned by a consultation of the authorities, at which he was
requested to assist—and all the explanations required being now given,
I may proceed with the simpler story of my own little personal
experiences in Montagu Square.
I was punctual to the luncheon hour on Tuesday. Reference to my diary
shows this to have been a chequered day—much in it to be devoutly
regretted, much in it to be devoutly thankful for.
Dear Aunt Verinder received me with her usual grace and kindness. But I
noticed, after a little while, that something was wrong. Certain
anxious looks escaped my aunt, all of which took the direction of her
daughter. I never see Rachel myself without wondering how it can be
that so insignificant-looking a person should be the child of such
distinguished parents as Sir John and Lady Verinder. On this occasion,
however, she not only disappointed—she really shocked me. There was an
absence of all lady-like restraint in her language and manner most
painful to see. She was possessed by some feverish excitement which
made her distressingly loud when she laughed, and sinfully wasteful and
capricious in what she ate and drank at lunch. I felt deeply for her
poor mother, even before the true state of the case had been
confidentially made known to me.
Luncheon over, my aunt said: “Remember what the doctor told you,
Rachel, about quieting yourself with a book after taking your meals.”
“I’ll go into the library, mamma,” she answered. “But if Godfrey calls,
mind I am told of it. I am dying for more news of him, after his
adventure in Northumberland Street.” She kissed her mother on the
forehead, and looked my way. “Good-bye, Clack,” she said, carelessly.
Her insolence roused no angry feeling in me; I only made a private
memorandum to pray for her.
When we were left by ourselves, my aunt told me the whole horrible
story of the Indian Diamond, which, I am happy to know, it is not
necessary to repeat here. She did not conceal from me that she would
have preferred keeping silence on the subject. But when her own
servants all knew of the loss of the Moonstone, and when some of the
circumstances had actually found their way into the newspapers—when
strangers were speculating whether there was any connection between
what had happened at Lady Verinder’s country house, and what had
happened in Northumberland Street and Alfred Place—concealment was not
to be thought of; and perfect frankness became a necessity as well as a
virtue.
Some persons, hearing what I now heard, would have been probably
overwhelmed with astonishment. For my own part, knowing Rachel’s spirit
to have been essentially unregenerate from her childhood upwards, I was
prepared for whatever my aunt could tell me on the subject of her
daughter. It might have gone on from bad to worse till it ended in
Murder; and I should still have said to myself, The natural result! oh,
dear, dear, the natural result! The one thing that _did_ shock me was
the course my aunt had taken under the circumstances. Here surely was a
case for a clergyman, if ever there was one yet! Lady Verinder had
thought it a case for a physician. All my poor aunt’s early life had
been passed in her father’s godless household. The natural result
again! Oh, dear, dear, the natural result again!
“The doctors recommend plenty of exercise and amusement for Rachel, and
strongly urge me to keep her mind as much as possible from dwelling on
the past,” said Lady Verinder.
“Oh, what heathen advice!” I thought to myself. “In this Christian
country, what heathen advice!”
My aunt went on, “I do my best to carry out my instructions. But this
strange adventure of Godfrey’s happens at a most unfortunate time.
Rachel has been incessantly restless and excited since she first heard
of it. She left me no peace till I had written and asked my nephew
Ablewhite to come here. She even feels an interest in the other person
who was roughly used—Mr. Luker, or some such name—though the man is, of
course, a total stranger to her.”
“Your knowledge of the world, dear aunt, is superior to mine,” I
suggested diffidently. “But there must be a reason surely for this
extraordinary conduct on Rachel’s part. She is keeping a sinful secret
from you and from everybody. May there not be something in these recent
events which threatens her secret with discovery?”