The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (top 5 books to read .txt) đ
- Author: Wilkie Collins
Book online «The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (top 5 books to read .txt) đ». Author Wilkie Collins
Sergeant Cuff looked up at meâflat against the wallâwithout stirring a hand, or moving a muscle of his melancholy face.
âAh,â he said, âyouâve guessed it at last.â
My hand dropped from his collar, and my head sunk on my breast. Please to remember, as some excuse for my breaking out as I did, that I had served the family for fifty years. Miss Rachel had climbed upon my knees, and pulled my whiskers, many and many a time when she was a child. Miss Rachel, with all her faults, had been, to my mind, the dearest and prettiest and best young mistress that ever an old servant waited on, and loved. I begged Sergeantâs Cuffâs pardon, but I am afraid I did it with watery eyes, and not in a very becoming way.
âDonât distress yourself, Mr. Betteredge,â says the Sergeant, with more kindness than I had any right to expect from him. âIn my line of life if we were quick at taking offence, we shouldnât be worth salt to our porridge. If itâs any comfort to you, collar me again. You donât in the least know how to do it; but Iâll overlook your awkwardness in consideration of your feelings.â
He curled up at the corners of his lips, and, in his own dreary way, seemed to think he had delivered himself of a very good joke.
I led him into my own little sitting-room, and closed the door.
âTell me the truth, Sergeant,â I said. âWhat do you suspect? Itâs no kindness to hide it from me now.â
âI donât suspect,â said Sergeant Cuff. âI know.â
My unlucky temper began to get the better of me again.
âDo you mean to tell me, in plain English,â I said, âthat Miss Rachel has stolen her own Diamond?â
âYes,â says the Sergeant; âthat is what I mean to tell you, in so many words. Miss Verinder has been in secret possession of the Moonstone from first to last; and she has taken Rosanna Spearman into her confidence, because she has calculated on our suspecting Rosanna Spearman of the theft. There is the whole case in a nutshell. Collar me again, Mr. Betteredge. If itâs any vent to your feelings, collar me again.â
God help me! my feelings were not to be relieved in that way. âGive me your reasons!â That was all I could say to him.
âYou shall hear my reasons tomorrow,â said the Sergeant. âIf Miss Verinder refuses to put off her visit to her aunt (which you will find Miss Verinder will do), I shall be obliged to lay the whole case before your mistress tomorrow. And, as I donât know what may come of it, I shall request you to be present, and to hear what passes on both sides. Let the matter rest for tonight. No, Mr. Betteredge, you donât get a word more on the subject of the Moonstone out of me. There is your table spread for supper. Thatâs one of the many human infirmities which I always treat tenderly. If you will ring the bell, Iâll say grace. âFor what we are going to receiveââââ
âI wish you a good appetite to it, Sergeant,â I said. âMy appetite is gone. Iâll wait and see you served, and then Iâll ask you to excuse me, if I go away, and try to get the better of this by myself.â
I saw him served with the best of everythingâand I shouldnât have been sorry if the best of everything had choked him. The head gardener (Mr. Begbie) came in at the same time, with his weekly account. The Sergeant got on the subject of roses and the merits of grass walks and gravel walks immediately. I left the two together, and went out with a heavy heart. This was the first trouble I remember for many a long year which wasnât to be blown off by a whiff of tobacco, and which was even beyond the reach of Robinson Crusoe.
Being restless and miserable, and having no particular room to go to, I took a turn on the terrace, and thought it over in peace and quietness by myself. It doesnât much matter what my thoughts were. I felt wretchedly old, and worn out, and unfit for my placeâand began to wonder, for the first time in my life, when it would please God to take me. With all this, I held firm, notwithstanding, to my belief in Miss Rachel. If Sergeant Cuff had been Solomon in all his glory, and had told me that my young lady had mixed herself up in a mean and guilty plot, I should have had but one answer for Solomon, wise as he was, âYou donât know her; and I do.â
My meditations were interrupted by Samuel. He brought me a written message from my mistress.
Going into the house to get a light to read it by, Samuel remarked that there seemed a change coming in the weather. My troubled mind had prevented me from noticing it before. But, now my attention was roused, I heard the dogs uneasy, and the wind moaning low. Looking up at the sky, I saw the rack of clouds getting blacker and blacker, and hurrying faster and faster over a watery moon. Wild weather comingâSamuel was right, wild weather coming.
The message from my lady informed me, that the magistrate at Frizinghall had written to remind her about the three Indians. Early in the coming week, the rogues must needs be released, and left free to follow their own devices. If we had any more questions to ask them, there was no time to lose. Having forgotten to mention this, when she had last seen Sergeant Cuff, my mistress now desired me to supply the omission. The Indians had gone clean out of my head (as they have, no doubt, gone clean out of yours). I didnât see much use in stirring that subject again. However, I obeyed my orders on the spot, as a matter of course.
I found Sergeant Cuff and the gardener, with a bottle of Scotch whisky between them, head over ears in an argument on the growing of roses. The Sergeant was so deeply interested that he held up his hand, and signed to me not to interrupt the discussion, when I came in. As far as I could understand it, the question between them was, whether the white moss rose did, or did not, require to be budded on the dog-rose to make it grow well. Mr. Begbie said, Yes; and Sergeant Cuff said, No. They appealed to me, as hotly as a couple of boys. Knowing nothing whatever about the growing of roses, I steered a middle courseâjust as her Majestyâs judges do, when the scales of justice bother them by hanging even to a hair. âGentlemen,â I remarked, âthere is much to be said on both sides.â In the temporary lull produced by that impartial sentence, I laid my ladyâs written message on the table, under the eyes of Sergeant Cuff.
I had got by this time, as nearly as might be, to hate the Sergeant. But truth compels me to acknowledge that, in respect of readiness of mind, he was a wonderful man.
In half a minute after he had read the message, he had looked back into his memory for Superintendent Seegraveâs report; had picked out that part of it in which the Indians were concerned; and was ready with his answer. A certain great traveller, who understood the Indians and their language, had figured in Mr. Seegraveâs report, hadnât he? Very well. Did I know the gentlemanâs name and address? Very well again. Would I write them on the back of my ladyâs message? Much obliged to me. Sergeant Cuff would look that gentleman up, when he went to Frizinghall in the morning.
âDo you expect anything to come of it?â I asked. âSuperintendent Seegrave found the Indians as innocent as the babe unborn.â
âSuperintendent Seegrave has been proved wrong, up to this time, in all his conclusions,â answered the Sergeant. âIt may be worth while to find out tomorrow whether Superintendent Seegrave was wrong about the Indians as well.â With that he turned to Mr. Begbie, and took up the argument again exactly at the place where it had left off. âThis question between us is a question of soils and seasons, and patience and pains, Mr. Gardener. Now let me put it to you from another point of view. You take your white moss roseâââ
By that time, I had closed the door on them, and was out of hearing of the rest of the dispute.
In the passage, I met Penelope hanging about, and asked what she was waiting for.
She was waiting for her young ladyâs bell, when her young lady chose to call her back to go on with the packing for the next dayâs journey. Further inquiry revealed to me, that Miss Rachel had given it as a reason for wanting to go to her aunt at Frizinghall, that the house was unendurable to her, and that she could bear the odious presence of a policeman under the same roof with herself no longer. On being informed, half an hour since, that her departure would be delayed till two in the afternoon, she had flown into a violent passion. My lady, present at the time, had severely rebuked her, and then (having apparently something to say, which was reserved for her daughterâs private ear) had sent Penelope out of the room. My girl was in wretchedly low spirits about the changed state of things in the house. âNothing goes right, father; nothing is like what it used to be. I feel as if some dreadful misfortune was hanging over us all.â
That was my feeling too. But I put a good face on it, before my daughter. Miss Rachelâs bell rang while we were talking. Penelope ran up the back stairs to go on with the packing. I went by the other way to the hall, to see what the glass said about the change in the weather.
Just as I approached the swing-door leading into the hall from the servantsâ offices, it was violently opened from the other side, and Rosanna Spearman ran by me, with a miserable look of pain in her face, and one of her hands pressed hard over her heart, as if the pang was in that quarter. âWhatâs the matter, my girl?â I asked, stopping her. âAre you ill?â âFor Godâs sake, donât speak to me,â she answered, and twisted herself out of my hands, and ran on towards the servantsâ staircase. I called to the cook (who was within hearing) to look after the poor girl. Two other persons proved to be within hearing, as well as the cook. Sergeant Cuff darted softly out of my room, and asked what was the matter. I answered, âNothing.â Mr. Franklin, on the other side, pulled open the swing-door, and beckoning me into the hall, inquired if I had seen anything of Rosanna Spearman.
âShe has just passed me, sir, with a very disturbed face, and in a very odd manner.â
âI am afraid I am innocently the cause of that disturbance, Betteredge.â
âYou, sir!â
âI canât explain it,â says Mr. Franklin; âbut, if the girl is concerned in the loss of the Diamond, I do really believe she was on the point of confessing everythingâto me, of all the people in the worldânot two minutes since.â
Looking towards the swing-door, as he said those last words, I fancied I saw it opened a little way from the inner side.
Was there anybody listening? The door fell to, before I could get to it. Looking through, the moment after, I thought I saw the tails of Sergeant Cuffâs respectable black coat disappearing round the corner of the passage. He knew, as well as I did, that he could expect no more help from me, now that I had discovered the turn which his investigations were really taking. Under those circumstances, it was quite in his character to help himself, and to do it by the underground way.
Not feeling sure that I had really seen the Sergeantâand not desiring to make needless mischief, where, Heaven knows, there was mischief enough going on alreadyâI told Mr. Franklin that I thought one of the dogs had got into the houseâand then begged him to describe what had happened between Rosanna and himself.
âWere you passing through the hall, sir?â I asked. âDid you meet her accidentally, when she spoke to you?â
Mr. Franklin pointed to the billiard-table.
âI was knocking the balls about,â he said, âand trying to get this miserable business of the Diamond out of my mind. I happened to look upâand there stood Rosanna Spearman at the side of me, like a ghost! Her stealing on me in that way was so strange, that
Comments (0)