บทที่ บทที่ 21 · Chapter XXI

The first words, when we had taken our seats, were spoken by my lady.

“Sergeant Cuff,” she said, “there was perhaps some excuse for the

inconsiderate manner in which I spoke to you half an hour since. I have

no wish, however, to claim that excuse. I say, with perfect sincerity,

that I regret it, if I wronged you.”

The grace of voice and manner with which she made him that atonement

had its due effect on the Sergeant. He requested permission to justify

himself—putting his justification as an act of respect to my mistress.

It was impossible, he said, that he could be in any way responsible for

the calamity, which had shocked us all, for this sufficient reason,

that his success in bringing his inquiry to its proper end depended on

his neither saying nor doing anything that could alarm Rosanna

Spearman. He appealed to me to testify whether he had, or had not,

carried that object out. I could, and did, bear witness that he had.

And there, as I thought, the matter might have been judiciously left to

come to an end.

Sergeant Cuff, however, took it a step further, evidently (as you shall

now judge) with the purpose of forcing the most painful of all possible

explanations to take place between her ladyship and himself.

“I have heard a motive assigned for the young woman’s suicide,” said

the Sergeant, “which may possibly be the right one. It is a motive

quite unconnected with the case which I am conducting here. I am bound

to add, however, that my own opinion points the other way. Some

unbearable anxiety in connexion with the missing Diamond, has, I

believe, driven the poor creature to her own destruction. I don’t

pretend to know what that unbearable anxiety may have been. But I think

(with your ladyship’s permission) I can lay my hand on a person who is

capable of deciding whether I am right or wrong.”

“Is the person now in the house?” my mistress asked, after waiting a

little.

“The person has left the house, my lady.”

That answer pointed as straight to Miss Rachel as straight could be. A

silence dropped on us which I thought would never come to an end. Lord!

how the wind howled, and how the rain drove at the window, as I sat

there waiting for one or other of them to speak again!

“Be so good as to express yourself plainly,” said my lady. “Do you

refer to my daughter?”

“I do,” said Sergeant Cuff, in so many words.

My mistress had her cheque-book on the table when we entered the

room—no doubt to pay the Sergeant his fee. She now put it back in the

drawer. It went to my heart to see how her poor hand trembled—the hand

that had loaded her old servant with benefits; the hand that, I pray

God, may take mine, when my time comes, and I leave my place for ever!

“I had hoped,” said my lady, very slowly and quietly, “to have

recompensed your services, and to have parted with you without Miss

Verinder’s name having been openly mentioned between us as it has been

mentioned now. My nephew has probably said something of this, before

you came into my room?”

“Mr. Blake gave his message, my lady. And I gave Mr. Blake a reason——”

“It is needless to tell me your reason. After what you have just said,

you know as well as I do that you have gone too far to go back. I owe

it to myself, and I owe it to my child, to insist on your remaining

here, and to insist on your speaking out.”

The Sergeant looked at his watch.

“If there had been time, my lady,” he answered, “I should have

preferred writing my report, instead of communicating it by word of

mouth. But, if this inquiry is to go on, time is of too much importance

to be wasted in writing. I am ready to go into the matter at once. It

is a very painful matter for me to speak of, and for you to hear.”

There my mistress stopped him once more.

“I may possibly make it less painful to you, and to my good servant and

friend here,” she said, “if I set the example of speaking boldly, on my

side. You suspect Miss Verinder of deceiving us all, by secreting the

Diamond for some purpose of her own? Is that true?”

“Quite true, my lady.”

“Very well. Now, before you begin, I have to tell you, as Miss

Verinder’s mother, that she is _absolutely incapable_ of doing what you

suppose her to have done. Your knowledge of her character dates from a

day or two since. My knowledge of her character dates from the

beginning of her life. State your suspicion of her as strongly as you

please—it is impossible that you can offend me by doing so. I am sure,

beforehand, that (with all your experience) the circumstances have

fatally misled you in this case. Mind! I am in possession of no private

information. I am as absolutely shut out of my daughter’s confidence as

you are. My one reason for speaking positively, is the reason you have

heard already. I know my child.”

She turned to me, and gave me her hand. I kissed it in silence. “You

may go on,” she said, facing the Sergeant again as steadily as ever.

Sergeant Cuff bowed. My mistress had produced but one effect on him.

His hatchet-face softened for a moment, as if he was sorry for her. As

to shaking him in his own conviction, it was plain to see that she had

not moved him by a single inch. He settled himself in his chair; and he

began his vile attack on Miss Rachel’s character in these words:

“I must ask your ladyship,” he said, “to look this matter in the face,

from my point of view as well as from yours. Will you please to suppose

yourself coming down here, in my place, and with my experience? and

will you allow me to mention very briefly what that experience has

been?”

My mistress signed to him that she would do this. The Sergeant went on:

“For the last twenty years,” he said, “I have been largely employed in

cases of family scandal, acting in the capacity of confidential man.

The one result of my domestic practice which has any bearing on the

matter now in hand, is a result which I may state in two words. It is

well within my experience, that young ladies of rank and position do

occasionally have private debts which they dare not acknowledge to

their nearest relatives and friends. Sometimes, the milliner and the

jeweller are at the bottom of it. Sometimes, the money is wanted for

purposes which I don’t suspect in this case, and which I won’t shock

you by mentioning. Bear in mind what I have said, my lady—and now let

us see how events in this house have forced me back on my own

experience, whether I liked it or not!”

He considered with himself for a moment, and went on—with a horrid

clearness that obliged you to understand him; with an abominable

justice that favoured nobody.

“My first information relating to the loss of the Moonstone,” said the

Sergeant, “came to me from Superintendent Seegrave. He proved to my

complete satisfaction that he was perfectly incapable of managing the

case. The one thing he said which struck me as worth listening to, was

this—that Miss Verinder had declined to be questioned by him, and had

spoken to him with a perfectly incomprehensible rudeness and contempt.

I thought this curious—but I attributed it mainly to some clumsiness on

the Superintendent’s part which might have offended the young lady.

After that, I put it by in my mind, and applied myself, single-handed,

to the case. It ended, as you are aware, in the discovery of the smear

on the door, and in Mr. Franklin Blake’s evidence satisfying me, that

this same smear, and the loss of the Diamond, were pieces of the same

puzzle. So far, if I suspected anything, I suspected that the Moonstone

had been stolen, and that one of the servants might prove to be the

thief. Very good. In this state of things, what happens? Miss Verinder

suddenly comes out of her room, and speaks to me. I observe three

suspicious appearances in that young lady. She is still violently

agitated, though more than four-and-twenty hours have passed since the

Diamond was lost. She treats me as she has already treated

Superintendent Seegrave. And she is mortally offended with Mr. Franklin

Blake. Very good again. Here (I say to myself) is a young lady who has

lost a valuable jewel—a young lady, also, as my own eyes and ears

inform me, who is of an impetuous temperament. Under these

circumstances, and with that character, what does she do? She betrays

an incomprehensible resentment against Mr. Blake, Mr. Superintendent,

and myself—otherwise, the very three people who have all, in their

different ways, been trying to help her to recover her lost jewel.

Having brought my inquiry to that point—_then_, my lady, and not till

then, I begin to look back into my own mind for my own experience. My

own experience explains Miss Verinder’s otherwise incomprehensible

conduct. It associates her with those other young ladies that I know

of. It tells me she has debts she daren’t acknowledge, that must be

paid. And it sets me asking myself, whether the loss of the Diamond may

not mean—that the Diamond must be secretly pledged to pay them. That is

the conclusion which my experience draws from plain facts. What does

your ladyship’s experience say against it?”

“What I have said already,” answered my mistress. “The circumstances

have misled you.”

I said nothing on my side. _Robinson Crusoe_—God knows how—had got into

my muddled old head. If Sergeant Cuff had found himself, at that

moment, transported to a desert island, without a man Friday to keep

him company, or a ship to take him off—he would have found himself

exactly where I wished him to be! (_Nota bene:_—I am an average good

Christian, when you don’t push my Christianity too far. And all the

rest of you—which is a great comfort—are, in this respect, much the

same as I am.)

Sergeant Cuff went on:

“Right or wrong, my lady,” he said, “having drawn my conclusion, the

next thing to do was to put it to the test. I suggested to your

ladyship the examination of all the wardrobes in the house. It was a

means of finding the article of dress which had, in all probability,

made the smear; and it was a means of putting my conclusion to the

test. How did it turn out? Your ladyship consented; Mr. Blake

consented; Mr. Ablewhite consented. Miss Verinder alone stopped the

whole proceeding by refusing point-blank. That result satisfied me that

my view was the right one. If your ladyship and Mr. Betteredge persist

in not agreeing with me, you must be blind to what happened before you

this very day. In your hearing, I told the young lady that her leaving

the house (as things were then) would put an obstacle in the way of my

recovering her jewel. You saw yourselves that she drove off in the face

of that statement. You saw yourself that, so far from forgiving Mr.

Blake for having done more than all the rest of you to put the clue

into my hands, she publicly insulted Mr. Blake, on the steps of her

mother’s house. What do these things mean? If Miss Verinder is not

privy to the suppression of the Diamond, what do these things mean?”

This time he looked my way. It was downright frightful to hear him

piling up proof after proof against Miss Rachel, and to know, while one

was longing to defend her, that there was no disputing the truth of

what he said. I am (thank God!) constitutionally superior to reason.

This enabled me to hold firm to my lady’s view, which was my view also.

This roused my spirit, and made me put a bold face on it before

Sergeant Cuff. Profit, good friends, I beseech you, by my example. It

will save you from many troubles of the vexing sort. Cultivate a

superiority to reason, and see how you pare the claws of all the

sensible people when they try to scratch you for your own good!

Finding that I made no remark, and that my mistress made no remark,

Sergeant Cuff proceeded. Lord! how it did enrage me to notice that he

was not in the least put out by our silence!

“There is the case, my lady, as it stands against Miss Verinder alone,”

he said. “The next thing is to put the case as it stands against Miss

Verinder and the deceased Rosanna Spearman taken together. We will go

back for a moment, if you please, to your daughter’s refusal to let her

wardrobe be examined. My mind being made up, after that circumstance, I

had two questions to consider next. First, as to the right method of

conducting my inquiry. Second, as to whether Miss Verinder had an

accomplice among the female servants in the house. After carefully

thinking it over, I determined to conduct the inquiry in, what we

should call at our office, a highly irregular manner. For this reason:

I had a family scandal to deal with, which it was my business to keep

within the family limits. The less noise made, and the fewer strangers

employed to help me, the better. As to the usual course of taking

people in custody on suspicion, going before the magistrate, and all

the rest of it—nothing of the sort was to be thought of, when your

ladyship’s daughter was (as I believed) at the bottom of the whole

business. In this case, I felt that a person of Mr. Betteredge’s

character and position in the house—knowing the servants as he did, and

having the honour of the family at heart—would be safer to take as an

assistant than any other person whom I could lay my hand on. I should

have tried Mr. Blake as well—but for one obstacle in the way. _He_ saw

the drift of my proceedings at a very early date; and, with his

interest in Miss Verinder, any mutual understanding was impossible

between him and me. I trouble your ladyship with these particulars to

show you that I have kept the family secret within the family circle. I

am the only outsider who knows it—and my professional existence depends

on holding my tongue.”

Here I felt that _my_ professional existence depended on not holding

_my_ tongue. To be held up before my mistress, in my old age, as a sort

of deputy-policeman, was, once again, more than my Christianity was

strong enough to bear.

“I beg to inform your ladyship,” I said, “that I never, to my

knowledge, helped this abominable detective business, in any way, from

first to last; and I summon Sergeant Cuff to contradict me, if he

dares!”

Having given vent in those words, I felt greatly relieved. Her ladyship

honoured me by a little friendly pat on the shoulder. I looked with

righteous indignation at the Sergeant, to see what he thought of such a

testimony as _that!_ The Sergeant looked back like a lamb, and seemed

to like me better than ever.

My lady informed him that he might continue his statement. “I

understand,” she said, “that you have honestly done your best, in what

you believe to be my interest. I am ready to hear what you have to say

next.”

“What I have to say next,” answered Sergeant Cuff, “relates to Rosanna

Spearman. I recognised the young woman, as your ladyship may remember,

when she brought the washing-book into this room. Up to that time I was

inclined to doubt whether Miss Verinder had trusted her secret to

anyone. When I saw Rosanna, I altered my mind. I suspected her at once

of being privy to the suppression of the Diamond. The poor creature has

met her death by a dreadful end, and I don’t want your ladyship to

think, now she’s gone, that I was unduly hard on her. If this had been

a common case of thieving, I should have given Rosanna the benefit of

the doubt just as freely as I should have given it to any of the other

servants in the house. Our experience of the Reformatory women is, that

when tried in service—and when kindly and judiciously treated—they

prove themselves in the majority of cases to be honestly penitent, and

honestly worthy of the pains taken with them. But this was not a common

case of thieving. It was a case—in my mind—of a deeply planned fraud,

with the owner of the Diamond at the bottom of it. Holding this view,

the first consideration which naturally presented itself to me, in

connection with Rosanna, was this: Would Miss Verinder be satisfied

(begging your ladyship’s pardon) with leading us all to think that the

Moonstone was merely lost? Or would she go a step further, and delude

us into believing that the Moonstone was stolen? In the latter event

there was Rosanna Spearman—with the character of a thief—ready to her

hand; the person of all others to lead your ladyship off, and to lead

me off, on a false scent.”

Was it possible (I asked myself) that he could put his case against

Miss Rachel and Rosanna in a more horrid point of view than this? It

_was_ possible, as you shall now see.

“I had another reason for suspecting the deceased woman,” he said,

“which appears to me to have been stronger still. Who would be the very

person to help Miss Verinder in raising money privately on the Diamond?

Rosanna Spearman. No young lady in Miss Verinder’s position could

manage such a risky matter as that by herself. A go-between she must

have, and who so fit, I ask again, as Rosanna Spearman? Your ladyship’s

deceased housemaid was at the top of her profession when she was a

thief. She had relations, to my certain knowledge, with one of the few

men in London (in the money-lending line) who would advance a large sum

on such a notable jewel as the Moonstone, without asking awkward

questions, or insisting on awkward conditions. Bear this in mind, my

lady; and now let me show you how my suspicions have been justified by

Rosanna’s own acts, and by the plain inferences to be drawn from them.”

He thereupon passed the whole of Rosanna’s proceedings under review.

You are already as well acquainted with those proceedings as I am; and

you will understand how unanswerably this part of his report fixed the

guilt of being concerned in the disappearance of the Moonstone on the

memory of the poor dead girl. Even my mistress was daunted by what he

said now. She made him no answer when he had done. It didn’t seem to

matter to the Sergeant whether he was answered or not. On he went

(devil take him!), just as steady as ever.

“Having stated the whole case as I understand it,” he said, “I have

only to tell your ladyship, now, what I propose to do next. I see two

ways of bringing this inquiry successfully to an end. One of those ways

I look upon as a certainty. The other, I admit, is a bold experiment,

and nothing more. Your ladyship shall decide. Shall we take the

certainty first?”

My mistress made him a sign to take his own way, and choose for

himself.

“Thank you,” said the Sergeant. “We’ll begin with the certainty, as

your ladyship is so good as to leave it to me. Whether Miss Verinder

remains at Frizinghall, or whether she returns here, I propose, in

either case, to keep a careful watch on all her proceedings—on the

people she sees, on the rides and walks she may take, and on the

letters she may write and receive.”

“What next?” asked my mistress.

“I shall next,” answered the Sergeant, “request your ladyship’s leave

to introduce into the house, as a servant in the place of Rosanna

Spearman, a woman accustomed to private inquiries of this sort, for

whose discretion I can answer.”

“What next?” repeated my mistress.

“Next,” proceeded the Sergeant, “and last, I propose to send one of my

brother-officers to make an arrangement with that money-lender in

London, whom I mentioned just now as formerly acquainted with Rosanna

Spearman—and whose name and address, your ladyship may rely on it, have

been communicated by Rosanna to Miss Verinder. I don’t deny that the

course of action I am now suggesting will cost money, and consume time.

But the result is certain. We run a line round the Moonstone, and we

draw that line closer and closer till we find it in Miss Verinder’s

possession, supposing she decides to keep it. If her debts press, and

she decides on sending it away, then we have our man ready, and we meet

the Moonstone on its arrival in London.”

To hear her own daughter made the subject of such a proposal as this,

stung my mistress into speaking angrily for the first time.

“Consider your proposal declined, in every particular,” she said. “And

go on to your other way of bringing the inquiry to an end.”

“My other way,” said the Sergeant, going on as easy as ever, “is to try

that bold experiment to which I have alluded. I think I have formed a

pretty correct estimate of Miss Verinder’s temperament. She is quite

capable (according to my belief) of committing a daring fraud. But she

is too hot and impetuous in temper, and too little accustomed to deceit

as a habit, to act the hypocrite in small things, and to restrain

herself under all provocations. Her feelings, in this case, have

repeatedly got beyond her control, at the very time when it was plainly

her interest to conceal them. It is on this peculiarity in her

character that I now propose to act. I want to give her a great shock

suddenly, under circumstances that will touch her to the quick. In

plain English, I want to tell Miss Verinder, without a word of warning,

of Rosanna’s death—on the chance that her own better feelings will

hurry her into making a clean breast of it. Does your ladyship accept

_that_ alternative?”

My mistress astonished me beyond all power of expression. She answered

him on the instant:

“Yes; I do.”

“The pony-chaise is ready,” said the Sergeant. “I wish your ladyship

good morning.”

My lady held up her hand, and stopped him at the door.

“My daughter’s better feelings shall be appealed to, as you propose,”

she said. “But I claim the right, as her mother, of putting her to the

test myself. You will remain here, if you please; and I will go to

Frizinghall.”

For once in his life, the great Cuff stood speechless with amazement,

like an ordinary man.

My mistress rang the bell, and ordered her waterproof things. It was

still pouring with rain; and the close carriage had gone, as you know,

with Miss Rachel to Frizinghall. I tried to dissuade her ladyship from

facing the severity of the weather. Quite useless! I asked leave to go

with her, and hold the umbrella. She wouldn’t hear of it. The

pony-chaise came round, with the groom in charge. “You may rely on two

things,” she said to Sergeant Cuff, in the hall. “I will try the

experiment on Miss Verinder as boldly as you could try it yourself. And

I will inform you of the result, either personally or by letter, before

the last train leaves for London tonight.”

With that, she stepped into the chaise, and, taking the reins herself,

drove off to Frizinghall.