The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (top 5 books to read .txt) đ
- Author: Wilkie Collins
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âThat will do,â I said. âWe really must go.â
Without paying the least attention to me, Mrs. Yolland took another dive into the rubbish, and came up out of it, this time, with a dog-chain.
âWeigh it in your hand, sir,â she said to the Sergeant. âWe had three of these; and Rosanna has taken two of them. âWhat can you want, my dear, with a couple of dogâs chains?â says I. âIf I join them together theyâll do round my box nicely,â says she. âRopeâs cheapest,â says I. âChainâs surest,â says she. âWho ever heard of a box corded with chain,â says I. âOh, Mrs. Yolland, donât make objections!â says she; âlet me have my chains!â A strange girl, Mr. Cuffâgood as gold, and kinder than a sister to my Lucyâbut always a little strange. There! I humoured her. Three and sixpence. On the word of an honest woman, three and sixpence, Mr. Cuff!â
âEach?â says the Sergeant.
âBoth together!â says Mrs. Yolland. âThree and sixpence for the two.â
âGiven away, maâam,â says the Sergeant, shaking his head. âClean given away!â
âThereâs the money,â says Mrs. Yolland, getting back sideways to the little heap of silver on the table, as if it drew her in spite of herself. âThe tin case and the dog chains were all she bought, and all she took away. One and ninepence and three and sixpenceâtotal, five and three. With my love and respectsâand I canât find it in my conscience to take a poor girlâs savings, when she may want them herself.â
âI canât find it in my conscience, maâam, to give the money back,â says Sergeant Cuff. âYou have as good as made her a present of the thingsâyou have indeed.â
âIs that your sincere opinion, sir?â says Mrs. Yolland brightening up wonderfully.
âThere canât be a doubt about it,â answered the Sergeant. âAsk Mr. Betteredge.â
It was no use asking me. All they got out of me was, âGood-night.â
âBother the money!â says Mrs. Yolland. With these words, she appeared to lose all command over herself; and, making a sudden snatch at the heap of silver, put it back, holus-bolus, in her pocket. âIt upsets oneâs temper, it does, to see it lying there, and nobody taking it,â cries this unreasonable woman, sitting down with a thump, and looking at Sergeant Cuff, as much as to say, âItâs in my pocket again nowâget it out if you can!â
This time, I not only went to the door, but went fairly out on the road back. Explain it how you may, I felt as if one or both of them had mortally offended me. Before I had taken three steps down the village, I heard the Sergeant behind me.
âThank you for your introduction, Mr. Betteredge,â he said. âI am indebted to the fishermanâs wife for an entirely new sensation. Mrs. Yolland has puzzled me.â
It was on the tip of my tongue to have given him a sharp answer, for no better reason than thisâthat I was out of temper with him, because I was out of temper with myself. But when he owned to being puzzled, a comforting doubt crossed my mind whether any great harm had been done after all. I waited in discreet silence to hear more.
âYes,â says the Sergeant, as if he was actually reading my thoughts in the dark. âInstead of putting me on the scent, it may console you to know, Mr. Betteredge (with your interest in Rosanna), that you have been the means of throwing me off. What the girl has done, tonight, is clear enough, of course. She has joined the two chains, and has fastened them to the hasp in the tin case. She has sunk the case, in the water or in the quicksand. She has made the loose end of the chain fast to some place under the rocks, known only to herself. And she will leave the case secure at its anchorage till the present proceedings have come to an end; after which she can privately pull it up again out of its hiding-place, at her own leisure and convenience. All perfectly plain, so far. But,â says the Sergeant, with the first tone of impatience in his voice that I had heard yet, âthe mystery isâwhat the devil has she hidden in the tin case?â
I thought to myself, âThe Moonstone!â But I only said to Sergeant Cuff, âCanât you guess?â
âItâs not the Diamond,â says the Sergeant. âThe whole experience of my life is at fault, if Rosanna Spearman has got the Diamond.â
On hearing those words, the infernal detective-fever began, I suppose, to burn in me again. At any rate, I forgot myself in the interest of guessing this new riddle. I said rashly, âThe stained dress!â
Sergeant Cuff stopped short in the dark, and laid his hand on my arm.
âIs anything thrown into that quicksand of yours, ever thrown up on the surface again?â he asked.
âNever,â I answered. âLight or heavy whatever goes into the Shivering Sand is sucked down, and seen no more.â
âDoes Rosanna Spearman know that?â
âShe knows it as well as I do.â
âThen,â says the Sergeant, âwhat on earth has she got to do but to tie up a bit of stone in the stained dress and throw it into the quicksand? There isnât the shadow of a reason why she should have hidden itâand yet she must have hidden it. Query,â says the Sergeant, walking on again, âis the paint-stained dress a petticoat or a night-gown? or is it something else which there is a reason for preserving at any risk? Mr. Betteredge, if nothing occurs to prevent it, I must go to Frizinghall tomorrow, and discover what she bought in the town, when she privately got the materials for making the substitute dress. Itâs a risk to leave the house, as things are nowâbut itâs a worse risk still to stir another step in this matter in the dark. Excuse my being a little out of temper; Iâm degraded in my own estimationâI have let Rosanna Spearman puzzle me.â
When we got back, the servants were at supper. The first person we saw in the outer yard was the policeman whom Superintendent Seegrave had left at the Sergeantâs disposal. The Sergeant asked if Rosanna Spearman had returned. Yes. When? Nearly an hour since. What had she done? She had gone upstairs to take off her bonnet and cloakâand she was now at supper quietly with the rest.
Without making any remark, Sergeant Cuff walked on, sinking lower and lower in his own estimation, to the back of the house. Missing the entrance in the dark, he went on (in spite of my calling to him) till he was stopped by a wicket-gate which led into the garden. When I joined him to bring him back by the right way, I found that he was looking up attentively at one particular window, on the bedroom floor, at the back of the house.
Looking up, in my turn, I discovered that the object of his contemplation was the window of Miss Rachelâs room, and that lights were passing backwards and forwards there as if something unusual was going on.
âIsnât that Miss Verinderâs room?â asked Sergeant Cuff.
I replied that it was, and invited him to go in with me to supper. The Sergeant remained in his place, and said something about enjoying the smell of the garden at night. I left him to his enjoyment. Just as I was turning in at the door, I heard âThe Last Rose of Summerâ at the wicket-gate. Sergeant Cuff had made another discovery! And my young ladyâs window was at the bottom of it this time!
The latter reflection took me back again to the Sergeant, with a polite intimation that I could not find it in my heart to leave him by himself. âIs there anything you donât understand up there?â I added, pointing to Miss Rachelâs window.
Judging by his voice, Sergeant Cuff had suddenly risen again to the right place in his own estimation. âYou are great people for betting in Yorkshire, are you not?â he asked.
âWell?â I said. âSuppose we are?â
âIf I was a Yorkshireman,â proceeded the Sergeant, taking my arm, âI would lay you an even sovereign, Mr. Betteredge, that your young lady has suddenly resolved to leave the house. If I won on that event, I should offer to lay another sovereign, that the idea has occurred to her within the last hour.â The first of the Sergeantâs guesses startled me. The second mixed itself up somehow in my head with the report we had heard from the policeman, that Rosanna Spearman had returned from the sands within the last hour. The two together had a curious effect on me as we went in to supper. I shook off Sergeant Cuffâs arm, and, forgetting my manners, pushed by him through the door to make my own inquiries for myself.
Samuel, the footman, was the first person I met in the passage.
âHer ladyship is waiting to see you and Sergeant Cuff,â he said, before I could put any questions to him.
âHow long has she been waiting?â asked the Sergeantâs voice behind me.
âFor the last hour, sir.â
There it was again! Rosanna had come back; Miss Rachel had taken some resolution out of the common; and my lady had been waiting to see the Sergeantâall within the last hour! It was not pleasant to find these very different persons and things linking themselves together in this way. I went on upstairs, without looking at Sergeant Cuff, or speaking to him. My hand took a sudden fit of trembling as I lifted it to knock at my mistressâs door.
âI shouldnât be surprised,â whispered the Sergeant over my shoulder, âif a scandal was to burst up in the house tonight. Donât be alarmed! I have put the muzzle on worse family difficulties than this, in my time.â
As he said the words I heard my mistressâs voice calling to us to come in.
We found my lady with no light in the room but the reading-lamp. The shade was screwed down so as to overshadow her face. Instead of looking up at us in her usual straightforward way, she sat close at the table, and kept her eyes fixed obstinately on an open book.
âOfficer,â she said, âis it important to the inquiry you are conducting, to know beforehand if any person now in this house wishes to leave it?â
âMost important, my lady.â
âI have to tell you, then, that Miss Verinder proposes going to stay with her aunt, Mrs. Ablewhite, of Frizinghall. She has arranged to leave us the first thing tomorrow morning.â
Sergeant Cuff looked at me. I made a step forward to speak to my mistressâand, feeling my heart fail me (if I must own it), took a step back again, and said nothing.
âMay I ask your ladyship when Miss Verinder informed you that she was going to her auntâs?â inquired the Sergeant.
âAbout an hour since,â answered my mistress.
Sergeant Cuff looked at me once more. They say old peopleâs hearts are not very easily moved. My heart couldnât have thumped much harder than it did now, if I had been five-and-twenty again!
âI have no claim, my lady,â says the Sergeant, âto control Miss Verinderâs actions. All I can ask you to do is to put off her departure, if possible, till later in the day. I must go to Frizinghall myself tomorrow morningâand I shall be back by two oâclock, if not before. If Miss Verinder can be kept here till that time, I should wish to say two words to herâunexpectedlyâbefore she goes.â
My lady directed me to give the coachman her orders, that the carriage was not to come for Miss Rachel until two oâclock. âHave you more to say?â she asked of the Sergeant, when this had been done.
âOnly one thing, your ladyship. If Miss Verinder is surprised at this change in the arrangements, please not to mention Me as being the cause of putting off her journey.â
My mistress lifted her head suddenly from her book as if she was going to say somethingâchecked herself by a great effortâand, looking back again at the open page, dismissed us with a sign of her hand.
âThatâs a wonderful woman,â said Sergeant Cuff, when we were out in the hall again. âBut for her self-control, the mystery that puzzles you, Mr. Betteredge, would have been at an end tonight.â
At those words, the truth rushed at last into my stupid old head. For the moment, I suppose I must have gone clean out of my senses. I seized the Sergeant by the collar of his coat, and pinned him against the wall.
âDamn you!â I cried out, âthereâs something
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