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THE MOONSTONE
Besides, the dog wasa good creature, and deserved a good physicking; he did indeed.
Saturday, the last day of the week, is also the last day in
mynarrative.
The morning's post brought me a surprise in the shape of a
London newspaper. The handwriting on the direction puzzled
me. Icompared it with the money-lender's name and address
as recorded in my pocket-book, and identifi ed it at once as the
writing of Sergeant Cuff.
Looking through the paper eagerly enough, after this
discovery,I found an ink-mark drawn round one of the police
reports. Here itis, at your service. Read it as I read it, and you
will set theright value on the Sergeant's polite attention in
sending me thenews of the day:
«LAMBETH – Shortly before the closing of the court, Mr.
SeptimusLuker, the well-known dealer in ancient gems, carvings, intagli,&c., &c., applied to the sitting magistrate for advice.
Theapplicant stated that he had been annoyed, at intervals
throughoutthe day, by the proceedings of some of those strolling Indians whoinfest the streets. The persons complained
of were three in number.After having been sent away by the
police, they had returned againand again, and had attempted
to enter the house on pretence ofasking for charity. Warned
off in the front, they had beendiscovered again at the back of
the premises. Besides the annoyancecomplained of, Mr. Luker
expressed himself as being under someapprehension that robbery might be contemplated. His collectioncontained many
unique gems, both classical and Oriental, of thehighest value.
He had only the day before been compelled to dismissa skilled
workman in ivory carving from his employment (a native
ofIndia, as we understood), on suspicion of attempted theft;
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WILKIE COLLINS
and hefelt by no means sure that this man and the street jugglers of whomhe complained, might not be acting in concert.
It might be theirobject to collect a crowd, and create a disturbance in the street,and, in the confusion thus caused, to obtain
access to the house.In reply to the magistrate, Mr. Luker admitted that he had noevidence to produce of any attempt at robbery being incontemplation. He could speak positively to the
annoyance andinterruption caused by the Indians, but not to
anything else. Themagistrate remarked that, if the annoyance
were repeated, theapplicant could summon the Indians to that
court, where they mighteasily be dealt with under the Act. As
to the valuables in Mr.Luker's possession, Mr. Luker himself
must take the best measuresfor their safe custody. He would
do well perhaps to communicatewith the police, and to adopt
such additional precautions as theirexperience might suggest.
The applicant thanked his worship, andwithdrew.»
One of the wise ancients is reported (I forget on what occasion)as having recommended his fellow-creatures to «look
to the end.»Looking to the end of these pages of mine, and
wondering for somedays past how I should manage to write it,
I fi nd my plainstatement of facts coming to a conclusion, most
appropriately, ofi ts own self. We have gone on, in this matter
of the Moonstone,from one marvel to another; and here we
end with the greatestmarvel of all – namely, the accomplishment of Sergeant Cuff's threepredictions in less than a week
from the time when he had madethem.
After hearing from the Yollands on the Monday, I had now
heardof the Indians, and heard of the money-lender, in the
news fromLondon – Miss Rachel herself remember, being
also in London at thetime. You see, I put things at their worst,
even when they telldead against my own view. If you desert
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THE MOONSTONE
me, and side with theSergeant, on the evidence before you – if
the only rationalexplanation you can see is, that Miss Rachel
and Mr. Luker musthave got together, and that the Moonstone
must be now in pledge inthe money-lender's house – I own,
I can't blame you for arriving atthat conclusion. In the dark, I
have brought you thus far. In thedark I am compelled to leave
you, with my best respects.
Why compelled? it may be asked. Why not take the persons
whohave gone along with me, so far, up into those regions of
superiorenlightenment in which I sit myself?
In answer to this, I can only state that I am acting underorders, and that those orders have been given to me (as Iunderstand) in the interests of truth. I am forbidden to tell morein
this narrative than I knew myself at the time. Or, to put itplainer, I am to keep strictly within the limits of my ownexperience,
and am not to inform you of what other persons toldme – for
the very suffi cient reason that you are to have theinformation
from those other persons themselves, at fi rst hand. Inthis matter of the Moonstone the plan is, not to present reports,but to
produce witnesses. I picture to myself a member of thefamily
reading these pages fi fty years hence. Lord! what acompliment
he will feel it, to be asked to take nothing onhear-say, and to
be treated in all respects like a Judge on thebench.
At this place, then, we part – for the present, at least – afterlong journeying together, with a companionable feeling, I
hope, onboth sides. The devil's dance of the Indian Diamond
has threadedits way to London; and to London you must go
after it, leaving meat the country-house. Please to excuse the
faults of thiscomposition – my talking so much of myself, and
being too familiar, Iam afraid, with you. I mean no harm; and
I drink most respectfully(having just done dinner) to your
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WILKIE COLLINS
health and prosperity, in atankard of her ladyship's ale. May
you fi nd in these leaves of mywriting, what ROBINSON CRUSOE found in his experience on the desertisland – namely,
«something to comfort yourselves from, and to set inthe Description of Good and Evil, on the Credit Side of theAccount.»
– Farewell.
THE END OF THE FIRST PERIOD.
SECOND PERIOD
THE DISCOVERY
OF THE TRUTH (1848-1849)
The events related in several narratives.
FIRST NARRATIVE
CONTRIBUTED BY MISS CLACK;
NIECE OF THE LATE
SIR JOHNVERINDER
CHAPTER I
I am indebted to my dear parents (both now in heaven) for
havinghad habits of order and regularity instilled into me at a
veryearly age.
In that happy bygone time, I was taught to keep my hair
tidy atall hours of the day and night, and to fold up every article of myclothing carefully, in the same order, on the same
chair, in thesame place at the foot of the bed, before retiring
to rest. Anentry of the day's events in my little diary invariably precededthe folding up. The «Evening Hymn» (repeated
in bed) invariablyfollowed the folding up. And the sweet sleep
of childhoodinvariably followed the «Evening Hymn.»
In later life (alas!) the Hymn has been succeeded by sad
andbitter meditations; and the sweet sleep has been but ill
exchangedfor the broken slumbers which haunt the uneasy
pillow of care. Onthe other hand, I have continued to fold my
clothes, and to keep mylittle diary. The former habit links me
to my happychildhood – before papa was ruined. The latter
habit – hitherto mainlyuseful in helping me to discipline the
fallen nature which we allinherit from Adam – has unexpectedly proved important to my humbleinterests in quite another
way. It has enabled poor Me to serve thecaprice of a wealthy
member of the family into which my late unclemarried. I am
fortunate enough to be useful to Mr. FranklinBlake.
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WILKIE COLLINS
I have been cut off from all news of my relatives by marriagefor some time past. When we are isolated and poor, we
are notinfrequently forgotten. I am now living, for economy's
sake, in alittle town in Brittany, inhabited by a select circle of
seriousEnglish friends, and possessed of the inestimable advantages of aProtestant clergyman and a cheap market.
In this retirement – a Patmos amid the howling ocean of
poperythat surrounds us – a letter from England has reached
me at last. Ifi nd my insignifi cant existence suddenly remembered by Mr. FranklinBlake. My wealthy relative – would that
I could add myspiritually-wealthy relative! – writes, without
even an attempt atdisguising that he wants something of me.
The whim has seized himto stir up the deplorable scandal of
the Moonstone: and I am tohelp him by writing the account
of what I myself witnessed whilevisiting at Aunt Verinder's
house in London. Pecuniary remunerationis offered to me –
with the want of feeling peculiar to the rich. Iam to re-open
wounds that Time has barely closed; I am to recallthe most
intensely painful remembrances – and this done, I am to feelmyself compensated by a new laceration, in the shape of Mr.
Blake'scheque. My nature is weak. It cost me a hard struggle,
beforeChristian humility conquered sinful pride, and self-denial acceptedthe cheque.
Without my diary, I doubt – pray let me express it in the
grossestterms! – if I could have honestly earned my money.
With my diary, thepoor labourer (who forgives Mr. Blake for
insulting her) is worthyof her hire. Nothing escaped me at the
time I was visiting dearAunt Verinder. Everything was entered
(thanks to my early training)day by day as it happened; and
everything down to the smallestparticular, shall be told here.
My sacred regard for truth is(thank God) far above my respect
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THE MOONSTONE
for persons. It will be easy forMr. Blake to suppress what may
not prove to be suffi cientlyfl attering in these pages to the person chiefl y concerned in them.He has purchased my time, but
not even HIS wealth can purchase myconscience too.*
* NOTE. ADDED BY FRANKLIN BLAKE. – Miss Clack may
make her mind quite easy on this point. Nothing will be added, altered or removed, in her manuscript, or in any of the other manuscripts which pass through my hands. Whatever opinions any of the
writers may express, whatever peculiarities of treatment may mark,
and perhaps in a literary sense, disfi gure the narratives which I am
now collecting, not a line will be tampered with anywhere, from
fi rst to last. As genuine documents they are sent to me – and as
genuine documents I shall preserve them, endorsed by the attestations of witnesses who can speak to the facts. It only remains to
be added that «the person chiefl y concerned» in Miss Clack's narrative, is happy enough at the present moment, not only to brave
the smartest exercise of Miss Clack's pen, but even to recognise its
unquestionable value as an instrument for the exhibition of Miss
Clack's character.
My diary informs me, that I was accidentally passing AuntVerinder's house in Montagu Square, on Monday, 3rd July,
1848.
Seeing the shutters opened, and the blinds drawn up, I
felt thatit would be an act of polite attention to knock, and
makeinquiries. The person who answered the door, informed
me that myaunt and her daughter (I really cannot call her my
cousin!) hadarrived from the country a week since, and meditated making somestay in London. I sent up a message at once,
declining to disturbthem, and only begging to know whether
I could be of any use.
The person who answered the door, took my message in
insolentsilence, and left me standing in the hall. She is the
daughter of aheathen old man named Betteredge – long, too
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WILKIE COLLINS
long, tolerated in myaunt's family. I sat down in the hall to wait
for my answer – and,having always a few tracts in my bag, I
selected one which provedto be quite providentially applicable
to the person who answeredthe door. The hall was dirty, and
the chair was hard; but theblessed consciousness of returning
good for evil raised me quiteabove any trifl ing considerations
of that kind. The tract was oneof a series addressed to young
women on the sinfulness of dress. Instyle it was devoutly familiar. Its title was, «A Word With You OnYour Cap-Ribbons.»
«My lady is much obliged, and begs you will come and
lunchto-morrow at two.»
I passed over the manner in which she gave her message,
and thedreadful boldness of her look. I thanked this young
castaway; and Isaid, in a tone of Christian interest, «Will you
favour me byaccepting a tract?»
She looked at the title. «Is it written by a man or a
woman,Miss? If it's written by a woman, I had rather not read
it on thataccount. If it's written by a man, I beg to inform him
that heknows nothing about it.» She handed me back the tract,
and openedthe door. We must sow the good seed somehow. I
waited till the doorwas shut on me, and slipped the tract into
the letter-box. When Ihad dropped another tract through the
area railings, I feltrelieved, in some small degree, of a heavy
responsibility towardsothers.
We had a meeting that evening of the Select Committee
of theMothers'-Small-Clothes-Conversion-Society. The object
of thisexcellent Charity is – as all serious people know – to
rescueunredeemed fathers' trousers from the pawnbroker,
and to preventtheir resumption, on the part of the irreclaimable parent, byabridging them immediately to suit the proportions of the innocentson. I was a member, at that time, of the
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