The Moonstone Page 50
FOURTH NARRATIVE
Extracted from the Journal of EZRA JENNINGS
1849.--June 15.... With some interruption from patients, and someinterruption from pain, I finished my letter to Miss Verinder in timefor to-day's post. I failed to make it as short a letter as I couldhave wished. But I think I have made it plain. It leaves her entirelymistress of her own decision. If she consents to assist the experiment,she consents of her own free will, and not as a favour to Mr. FranklinBlake or to me.
June 16th.--Rose late, after a dreadful night; the vengeance ofyesterday's opium, pursuing me through a series of frightful dreams.At one time I was whirling through empty space with the phantoms of thedead, friends and enemies together. At another, the one belovedface which I shall never see again, rose at my bedside, hideouslyphosphorescent in the black darkness, and glared and grinned at me. Aslight return of the old pain, at the usual time in the early morning,was welcome as a change. It dispelled the visions--and it was bearablebecause it did that.
My bad night made it late in the morning, before I could get to Mr.Franklin Blake. I found him stretched on the sofa, breakfasting onbrandy and soda-water, and a dry biscuit.
"I am beginning, as well as you could possibly wish," he said. "Amiserable, restless night; and a total failure of appetite this morning.Exactly what happened last year, when I gave up my cigars. The sooner Iam ready for my second dose of laudanum, the better I shall be pleased."
"You shall have it on the earliest possible day," I answered. "In themeantime, we must be as careful of your health as we can. If we allowyou to become exhausted, we shall fail in that way. You must get anappetite for your dinner. In other words, you must get a ride or a walkthis morning, in the fresh air."
"I will ride, if they can find me a horse here. By-the-by, I wrote toMr. Bruff, yesterday. Have you written to Miss Verinder?"
"Yes--by last night's post."
"Very good. We shall have some news worth hearing, to tell each otherto-morrow. Don't go yet! I have a word to say to you. You appeared tothink, yesterday, that our experiment with the opium was not likely tobe viewed very favourably by some of my friends. You were quite right. Icall old Gabriel Betteredge one of my friends; and you will be amused tohear that he protested strongly when I saw him yesterday. 'You have donea wonderful number of foolish things in the course of your life, Mr.Franklin, but this tops them all!' There is Betteredge's opinion! Youwill make allowance for his prejudices, I am sure, if you and he happento meet?"
I left Mr. Blake, to go my rounds among my patients; feeling the betterand the happier even for the short interview that I had had with him.
What is the secret of the attraction that there is for me in this man?Does it only mean that I feel the contrast between the frankly kindmanner in which he has allowed me to become acquainted with him, and themerciless dislike and distrust with which I am met by other people? Oris there really something in him which answers to the yearning that Ihave for a little human sympathy--the yearning, which has survived thesolitude and persecution of many years; which seems to grow keener andkeener, as the time comes nearer and nearer when I shall endure and feelno more? How useless to ask these questions! Mr. Blake has given me anew interest in life. Let that be enough, without seeking to know whatthe new interest is.
June 17th.--Before breakfast, this morning, Mr. Candy informed me thathe was going away for a fortnight, on a visit to a friend in the southof England. He gave me as many special directions, poor fellow, aboutthe patients, as if he still had the large practice which he possessedbefore he was taken ill. The practice is worth little enough now! Otherdoctors have superseded HIM; and nobody who can help it will employ me.
It is perhaps fortunate that he is to be away just at this time. Hewould have been mortified if I had not informed him of the experimentwhich I am going to try with Mr. Blake. And I hardly know whatundesirable results might not have happened, if I had taken him into myconfidence. Better as it is. Unquestionably, better as it is.
The post brought me Miss Verinder's answer, after Mr. Candy had left thehouse.
A charming letter! It gives me the highest opinion of her. There is noattempt to conceal the interest that she feels in our proceedings. Shetells me, in the prettiest manner, that my letter has satisfied herof Mr. Blake's innocence, without the slightest need (so far as sheis concerned) of putting my assertion to the proof. She even upbraidsherself--most undeservedly, poor thing!--for not having divined at thetime what the true solution of the mystery might really be. The motiveunderlying all this proceeds evidently from something more thana generous eagerness to make atonement for a wrong which she hasinnocently inflicted on another person. It is plain that she has lovedhim, throughout the estrangement between them. In more than one placethe rapture of discovering that he has deserved to be loved, breaks itsway innocently through the stoutest formalities of pen and ink, andeven defies the stronger restraint still of writing to a stranger. Isit possible (I ask myself, in reading this delightful letter) that I,of all men in the world, am chosen to be the means of bringing these twoyoung people together again? My own happiness has been trampled underfoot; my own love has been torn from me. Shall I live to see a happinessof others, which is of my making--a love renewed, which is of mybringing back? Oh merciful Death, let me see it before your arms enfoldme, before your voice whispers to me, "Rest at last!"
There are two requests contained in the letter. One of them prevents mefrom showing it to Mr. Franklin Blake. I am authorised to tell him thatMiss Verinder willingly consents to place her house at our disposal;and, that said, I am desired to add no more.
So far, it is easy to comply with her wishes. But the second requestembarrasses me seriously.
Not content with having written to Mr. Betteredge, instructing him tocarry out whatever directions I may have to give, Miss Verinder asksleave to assist me, by personally superintending the restoration of herown sitting-room. She only waits a word of reply from me to make thejourney to Yorkshire, and to be present as one of the witnesses on thenight when the opium is tried for the second time.
Here, again, there is a motive under the surface; and, here again, Ifancy that I can find it out.
What she has forbidden me to tell Mr. Franklin Blake, she is (as Iinterpret it) eager to tell him with her own lips, BEFORE he is putto the test which is to vindicate his character in the eyes of otherpeople. I understand and admire this generous anxiety to acquit him,without waiting until his innocence may, or may not, be proved. Itis the atonement that she is longing to make, poor girl, after havinginnocently and inevitably wronged him. But the thing cannot be done. Ihave no sort of doubt that the agitation which a meeting between themwould produce on both sides--reviving dormant feelings, appealing to oldmemories, awakening new hopes--would, in their effect on the mind of Mr.Blake, be almost certainly fatal to the success of our experiment. It ishard enough, as things are, to reproduce in him the conditions as theyexisted, or nearly as they existed, last year. With new interests andnew emotions to agitate him, the attempt would be simply useless.
And yet, knowing this, I cannot find it in my heart to disappoint her. Imust try if I can discover some new arrangement, before post-time, whichwill allow me to say Yes to Miss Verinder, without damage to the servicewhich I have bound myself to render to Mr. Franklin Blake.
Two o'clock.--I have just returned from my round of medical visits;having begun, of course, by calling at the hotel.
Mr. Blake's report of the night is the same as before. He has had someintervals of broken sleep, and no more. But he feels it less to-day,having slept after yesterday's dinner. This after-dinner sleep is theresult, no doubt, of the ride which I advised him to take. I fear Ishall have to curtail his restorative exercise in the fresh air. He mustnot be too well; he must not be too ill. It is a case (as a sailor wouldsay) of very fine steering.
He has not heard yet from Mr. Bruff. I found him eager to know if I hadreceived any answer from Miss Verinder.
I told him exactl
y what I was permitted to tell, and no more. It wasquite needless to invent excuses for not showing him the letter. He toldme bitterly enough, poor fellow, that he understood the delicacy whichdisinclined me to produce it. "She consents, of course, as a matter ofcommon courtesy and common justice," he said. "But she keeps her ownopinion of me, and waits to see the result." I was sorely tempted tohint that he was now wronging her as she had wronged him. On reflection,I shrank from forestalling her in the double luxury of surprising andforgiving him.
My visit was a very short one. After the experience of the other night,I have been compelled once more to give up my dose of opium. As anecessary result, the agony of the disease that is in me has got theupper hand again. I felt the attack coming on, and left abruptly, so asnot to alarm or distress him. It only lasted a quarter of an hour thistime, and it left me strength enough to go on with my work.
Five o'clock.--I have written my reply to Miss Verinder.
The arrangement I have proposed reconciles the interests on both sides,if she will only consent to it. After first stating the objectionsthat there are to a meeting between Mr. Blake and herself, beforethe experiment is tried, I have suggested that she should so time herjourney as to arrive at the house privately, on the evening when we makethe attempt. Travelling by the afternoon train from London, she woulddelay her arrival until nine o'clock. At that hour, I have undertaken tosee Mr. Blake safely into his bedchamber; and so to leave Miss Verinderfree to occupy her own rooms until the time comes for administeringthe laudanum. When that has been done, there can be no objection to herwatching the result, with the rest of us. On the next morning, she shallshow Mr. Blake (if she likes) her correspondence with me, and shallsatisfy him in that way that he was acquitted in her estimation, beforethe question of his innocence was put to the proof.
In that sense, I have written to her. This is all that I can do to-day.To-morrow I must see Mr. Betteredge, and give the necessary directionsfor reopening the house.
June 18th.--Late again, in calling on Mr. Franklin Blake. More of thathorrible pain in the early morning; followed, this time, by completeprostration, for some hours. I foresee, in spite of the penalties whichit exacts from me, that I shall have to return to the opium for thehundredth time. If I had only myself to think of, I should prefer thesharp pains to the frightful dreams. But the physical suffering exhaustsme. If I let myself sink, it may end in my becoming useless to Mr. Blakeat the time when he wants me most.
It was nearly one o'clock before I could get to the hotel to-day. Thevisit, even in my shattered condition, proved to be a most amusingone--thanks entirely to the presence on the scene of Gabriel Betteredge.
I found him in the room, when I went in. He withdrew to the window andlooked out, while I put my first customary question to my patient. Mr.Blake had slept badly again, and he felt the loss of rest this morningmore than he had felt it yet.
I asked next if he had heard from Mr. Bruff.
A letter had reached him that morning. Mr. Bruff expressed the strongestdisapproval of the course which his friend and client was taking undermy advice. It was mischievous--for it excited hopes that might never berealised. It was quite unintelligible to HIS mind, except that itlooked like a piece of trickery, akin to the trickery of mesmerism,clairvoyance, and the like. It unsettled Miss Verinder's house, andit would end in unsettling Miss Verinder herself. He had put the case(without mentioning names) to an eminent physician; and the eminentphysician had smiled, had shaken his head, and had said--nothing. Onthese grounds, Mr. Bruff entered his protest, and left it there.
My next inquiry related to the subject of the Diamond. Had the lawyerproduced any evidence to prove that the jewel was in London?
No, the lawyer had simply declined to discuss the question. He washimself satisfied that the Moonstone had been pledged to Mr. Luker. Hiseminent absent friend, Mr. Murthwaite (whose consummate knowledge ofthe Indian character no one could deny), was satisfied also. Under thesecircumstances, and with the many demands already made on him, he mustdecline entering into any disputes on the subject of evidence. Timewould show; and Mr. Bruff was willing to wait for time.
It was quite plain--even if Mr. Blake had not made it plainer stillby reporting the substance of the letter, instead of reading what wasactually written--that distrust of me was at the bottom of all this.Having myself foreseen that result, I was neither mortified norsurprised. I asked Mr. Blake if his friend's protest had shaken him. Heanswered emphatically, that it had not produced the slightest effecton his mind. I was free after that to dismiss Mr. Bruff fromconsideration--and I did dismiss him accordingly.
A pause in the talk between us, followed--and Gabriel Betteredge cameout from his retirement at the window.
"Can you favour me with your attention, sir?" he inquired, addressinghimself to me.
"I am quite at your service," I answered.
Betteredge took a chair and seated himself at the table. He produced ahuge old-fashioned leather pocket-book, with a pencil of dimensions tomatch. Having put on his spectacles, he opened the pocket-book, at ablank page, and addressed himself to me once more.
"I have lived," said Betteredge, looking at me sternly, "nigh on fiftyyears in the service of my late lady. I was page-boy before that, in theservice of the old lord, her father. I am now somewhere between seventyand eighty years of age--never mind exactly where! I am reckoned to havegot as pretty a knowledge and experience of the world as most men. Andwhat does it all end in? It ends, Mr. Ezra Jennings, in a conjuringtrick being performed on Mr. Franklin Blake, by a doctor's assistantwith a bottle of laudanum--and by the living jingo, I'm appointed, in myold age, to be conjurer's boy!"
Mr. Blake burst out laughing. I attempted to speak. Betteredge held uphis hand, in token that he had not done yet.
"Not a word, Mr. Jennings!" he said, "It don't want a word, sir, fromyou. I have got my principles, thank God. If an order comes to me, whichis own brother to an order come from Bedlam, it don't matter. So longas I get it from my master or mistress, as the case may be, I obey it. Imay have my own opinion, which is also, you will please to remember, theopinion of Mr. Bruff--the Great Mr. Bruff!" said Betteredge, raising hisvoice, and shaking his head at me solemnly. "It don't matter; I withdrawmy opinion, for all that. My young lady says, 'Do it.' And I say, 'Miss,it shall be done.' Here I am, with my book and my pencil--the latter notpointed so well as I could wish, but when Christians take leave of theirsenses, who is to expect that pencils will keep their points? Giveme your orders, Mr. Jennings. I'll have them in writing, sir. I'mdetermined not to be behind 'em, or before 'em, by so much as a hair'sbreadth. I'm a blind agent--that's what I am. A blind agent!" repeatedBetteredge, with infinite relish of his own description of himself.
"I am very sorry," I began, "that you and I don't agree----"
"Don't bring ME, into it!" interposed Betteredge. "This is not amatter of agreement, it's a matter of obedience. Issue your directions,sir--issue your directions!"
Mr. Blake made me a sign to take him at his word. I "issued mydirections" as plainly and as gravely as I could.
"I wish certain parts of the house to be reopened," I said, "and to befurnished, exactly as they were furnished at this time last year."
Betteredge gave his imperfectly-pointed pencil a preliminary lick withhis tongue. "Name the parts, Mr. Jennings!" he said loftily.
"First, the inner hall, leading to the chief staircase."
"'First, the inner hall,'" Betteredge wrote. "Impossible to furnishthat, sir, as it was furnished last year--to begin with."
"Why?"
"Because there was a stuffed buzzard, Mr. Jennings, in the hall lastyear. When the family left, the buzzard was put away with the otherthings. When the buzzard was put away--he burst."
"We will except the buzzard then."
Betteredge took a note of the exception. "'The inner hall to befurnished again, as furnished last year. A burst buzzard aloneexcepted.' Please to go on, Mr. Jennings."
"The carpet to be laid
down on the stairs, as before."
"'The carpet to be laid down on the stairs, as before.' Sorry todisappoint you, sir. But that can't be done either."
"Why not?"
"Because the man who laid that carpet down is dead, Mr. Jennings--andthe like of him for reconciling together a carpet and a corner, is notto be found in all England, look where you may."
"Very well. We must try the next best man in England."
Betteredge took another note; and I went on issuing my directions.
"Miss Verinder's sitting-room to be restored exactly to what it waslast year. Also, the corridor leading from the sitting-room to the firstlanding. Also, the second corridor, leading from the second landing tothe best bedrooms. Also, the bedroom occupied last June by Mr. FranklinBlake."
Betteredge's blunt pencil followed me conscientiously, word by word."Go on, sir," he said, with sardonic gravity. "There's a deal of writingleft in the point of this pencil yet."
I told him that I had no more directions to give. "Sir," saidBetteredge, "in that case, I have a point or two to put on my ownbehalf." He opened the pocket-book at a new page, and gave theinexhaustible pencil another preliminary lick.
"I wish to know," he began, "whether I may, or may not, wash myhands----"
"You may decidedly," said Mr. Blake. "I'll ring for the waiter."
"----of certain responsibilities," pursued Betteredge, impenetrablydeclining to see anybody in the room but himself and me. "As to MissVerinder's sitting-room, to begin with. When we took up the carpetlast year, Mr. Jennings, we found a surprising quantity of pins. Am Iresponsible for putting back the pins?"
"Certainly not."
Betteredge made a note of that concession, on the spot.
"As to the first corridor next," he resumed. "When we movedthe ornaments in that part, we moved a statue of a fat nakedchild--profanely described in the catalogue of the house as 'Cupid,god of Love.' He had two wings last year, in the fleshy part of hisshoulders. My eye being off him, for the moment, he lost one of them. AmI responsible for Cupid's wing?"
I made another concession, and Betteredge made another note.
"As to the second corridor," he went on. "There having been nothing init, last year, but the doors of the rooms (to every one of which I canswear, if necessary), my mind is easy, I admit, respecting that part ofthe house only. But, as to Mr. Franklin's bedroom (if THAT is to beput back to what it was before), I want to know who is responsible forkeeping it in a perpetual state of litter, no matter how often it maybe set right--his trousers here, his towels there, and his French novelseverywhere. I say, who is responsible for untidying the tidiness of Mr.Franklin's room, him or me?"
Mr. Blake declared that he would assume the whole responsibility withthe greatest pleasure. Betteredge obstinately declined to listen to anysolution of the difficulty, without first referring it to my sanctionand approval. I accepted Mr. Blake's proposal; and Betteredge made alast entry in the pocket-book to that effect.
"Look in when you like, Mr. Jennings, beginning from to-morrow," hesaid, getting on his legs. "You will find me at work, with the necessarypersons to assist me. I respectfully beg to thank you, sir, foroverlooking the case of the stuffed buzzard, and the other case ofthe Cupid's wing--as also for permitting me to wash my hands of allresponsibility in respect of the pins on the carpet, and the litter inMr. Franklin's room. Speaking as a servant, I am deeply indebted to you.Speaking as a man, I consider you to be a person whose head is fullof maggots, and I take up my testimony against your experiment as adelusion and a snare. Don't be afraid, on that account, of my feelingsas a man getting in the way of my duty as a servant! You shall beobeyed. The maggots notwithstanding, sir, you shall be obeyed. If itends in your setting the house on fire, Damme if I send for the engines,unless you ring the bell and order them first!"
With that farewell assurance, he made me a bow, and walked out of theroom.
"Do you think we can depend on him?" I asked.
"Implicitly," answered Mr. Blake. "When we go to the house, we shallfind nothing neglected, and nothing forgotten."
June 19th.--Another protest against our contemplated proceedings! From alady this time.
The morning's post brought me two letters. One from Miss Verinder,consenting, in the kindest manner, to the arrangement that I haveproposed. The other from the lady under whose care she is living--oneMrs. Merridew.
Mrs. Merridew presents her compliments, and does not pretend tounderstand the subject on which I have been corresponding with MissVerinder, in its scientific bearings. Viewed in its social bearings,however, she feels free to pronounce an opinion. I am probably, Mrs.Merridew thinks, not aware that Miss Verinder is barely nineteen yearsof age. To allow a young lady, at her time of life, to be present(without a "chaperone") in a house full of men among whom a medicalexperiment is being carried on, is an outrage on propriety which Mrs.Merridew cannot possibly permit. If the matter is allowed to proceed,she will feel it to be her duty--at a serious sacrifice of her ownpersonal convenience--to accompany Miss Verinder to Yorkshire. Underthese circumstances, she ventures to request that I will kindlyreconsider the subject; seeing that Miss Verinder declines to be guidedby any opinion but mine. Her presence cannot possibly be necessary; anda word from me, to that effect, would relieve both Mrs. Merridew andmyself of a very unpleasant responsibility.
Translated from polite commonplace into plain English, the meaning ofthis is, as I take it, that Mrs. Merridew stands in mortal fear of theopinion of the world. She has unfortunately appealed to the very lastman in existence who has any reason to regard that opinion with respect.I won't disappoint Miss Verinder; and I won't delay a reconciliationbetween two young people who love each other, and who have been partedtoo long already. Translated from plain English into polite commonplace,this means that Mr. Jennings presents his compliments to Mrs. Merridew,and regrets that he cannot feel justified in interfering any farther inthe matter.
Mr. Blake's report of himself, this morning, was the same as before.We determined not to disturb Betteredge by overlooking him at the houseto-day. To-morrow will be time enough for our first visit of inspection.
June 20th.--Mr. Blake is beginning to feel his continued restlessness atnight. The sooner the rooms are refurnished, now, the better.
On our way to the house, this morning, he consulted me, with somenervous impatience and irresolution, about a letter (forwarded to himfrom London) which he had received from Sergeant Cuff.
The Sergeant writes from Ireland. He acknowledges the receipt (throughhis housekeeper) of a card and message which Mr. Blake left at hisresidence near Dorking, and announces his return to England as likelyto take place in a week or less. In the meantime, he requests to befavoured with Mr. Blake's reasons for wishing to speak to him (asstated in the message) on the subject of the Moonstone. If Mr. Blakecan convict him of having made any serious mistake, in the course of hislast year's inquiry concerning the Diamond, he will consider it a duty(after the liberal manner in which he was treated by the late LadyVerinder) to place himself at that gentleman's disposal. If not, hebegs permission to remain in his retirement, surrounded by the peacefulhorticultural attractions of a country life.
After reading the letter, I had no hesitation in advising Mr. Blaketo inform Sergeant Cuff, in reply, of all that had happened sincethe inquiry was suspended last year, and to leave him to draw his ownconclusions from the plain facts.
On second thoughts I also suggested inviting the Sergeant to be presentat the experiment, in the event of his returning to England in time tojoin us. He would be a valuable witness to have, in any case; and, if Iproved to be wrong in believing the Diamond to be hidden in Mr. Blake'sroom, his advice might be of great importance, at a future stage ofthe proceedings over which I could exercise no control. This lastconsideration appeared to decide Mr. Blake. He promised to follow myadvice.
The sound of the hammer informed us that the work of re-furnishing wasin full progress, as we entered the drive that led to the house.<
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Betteredge, attired for the occasion in a fisherman's red cap, and anapron of green baize, met us in the outer hall. The moment he saw me,he pulled out the pocket-book and pencil, and obstinately insisted ontaking notes of everything that I said to him. Look where we might, wefound, as Mr. Blake had foretold that the work was advancing as rapidlyand as intelligently as it was possible to desire. But there was stillmuch to be done in the inner hall, and in Miss Verinder's room. Itseemed doubtful whether the house would be ready for us before the endof the week.
Having congratulated Betteredge on the progress that he had made (hepersisted in taking notes every time I opened my lips; declining, atthe same time, to pay the slightest attention to anything said by Mr.Blake); and having promised to return for a second visit of inspectionin a day or two, we prepared to leave the house, going out by the backway. Before we were clear of the passages downstairs, I was stopped byBetteredge, just as I was passing the door which led into his own room.
"Could I say two words to you in private?" he asked, in a mysteriouswhisper.
I consented of course. Mr. Blake walked on to wait for me in the garden,while I accompanied Betteredge into his room. I fully anticipated ademand for certain new concessions, following the precedent alreadyestablished in the cases of the stuffed buzzard, and the Cupid's wing.To my great surprise, Betteredge laid his hand confidentially on my arm,and put this extraordinary question to me:
"Mr. Jennings, do you happen to be acquainted with ROBINSON CRUSOE?"
I answered that I had read ROBINSON CRUSOE when I was a child.
"Not since then?" inquired Betteredge.
"Not since then."
He fell back a few steps, and looked at me with an expression ofcompassionate curiosity, tempered by superstitious awe.
"He has not read ROBINSON CRUSOE since he was a child," said Betteredge,speaking to himself--not to me. "Let's try how ROBINSON CRUSOE strikeshim now!"
He unlocked a cupboard in a corner, and produced a dirty and dog's-earedbook, which exhaled a strong odour of stale tobacco as he turned overthe leaves. Having found a passage of which he was apparently insearch, he requested me to join him in the corner; still mysteriouslyconfidential, and still speaking under his breath.
"In respect to this hocus-pocus of yours, sir, with the laudanum and Mr.Franklin Blake," he began. "While the workpeople are in the house, myduty as a servant gets the better of my feelings as a man. When theworkpeople are gone, my feelings as a man get the better of my duty as aservant. Very good. Last night, Mr. Jennings, it was borne in powerfullyon my mind that this new medical enterprise of yours would end badly.If I had yielded to that secret Dictate, I should have put all thefurniture away again with my own hand, and have warned the workmen offthe premises when they came the next morning."
"I am glad to find, from what I have seen up-stairs," I said, "that youresisted the secret Dictate."
"Resisted isn't the word," answered Betteredge. "Wrostled is the word. Iwrostled, sir, between the silent orders in my bosom pulling me one way,and the written orders in my pocket-book pushing me the other,until (saving your presence) I was in a cold sweat. In that dreadfulperturbation of mind and laxity of body, to what remedy did I apply? Tothe remedy, sir, which has never failed me yet for the last thirty yearsand more--to This Book!"
He hit the book a sounding blow with his open hand, and struck out of ita stronger smell of stale tobacco than ever.
"What did I find here," pursued Betteredge, "at the first page Iopened? This awful bit, sir, page one hundred and seventy-eight, asfollows.--'Upon these, and many like Reflections, I afterwards made ita certain rule with me, That whenever I found those secret Hints orPressings of my Mind, to doing, or not doing any Thing that presented;or to going this Way, or that Way, I never failed to obey the secretDictate.' As I live by bread, Mr. Jennings, those were the first wordsthat met my eye, exactly at the time when I myself was setting thesecret Dictate at defiance! You don't see anything at all out of thecommon in that, do you, sir?"
"I see a coincidence--nothing more."
"You don't feel at all shaken, Mr. Jennings, in respect to this medicalenterprise of yours?
"Not the least in the world."
Betteredge stared hard at me, in dead silence. He closed the bookwith great deliberation; he locked it up again in the cupboard withextraordinary care; he wheeled round, and stared hard at me once more.Then he spoke.
"Sir," he said gravely, "there are great allowances to be made for a manwho has not read ROBINSON CRUSOE since he was a child. I wish you goodmorning."
He opened his door with a low bow, and left me at liberty to find my ownway into the garden. I met Mr. Blake returning to the house.
"You needn't tell me what has happened," he said. "Betteredge has playedhis last card: he has made another prophetic discovery in ROBINSONCRUSOE. Have you humoured his favourite delusion? No? You have let himsee that you don't believe in ROBINSON CRUSOE? Mr. Jennings! you havefallen to the lowest possible place in Betteredge's estimation. Say whatyou like, and do what you like, for the future. You will find that hewon't waste another word on you now."
June 21st.--A short entry must suffice in my journal to-day.
Mr. Blake has had the worst night that he has passed yet. I have beenobliged, greatly against my will, to prescribe for him. Men of hissensitive organisation are fortunately quick in feeling the effect ofremedial measures. Otherwise, I should be inclined to fear that he willbe totally unfit for the experiment when the time comes to try it.
As for myself, after some little remission of my pains for the last twodays I had an attack this morning, of which I shall say nothing but thatit has decided me to return to the opium. I shall close this book, andtake my full dose--five hundred drops.
June 22nd.--Our prospects look better to-day. Mr. Blake's nervoussuffering is greatly allayed. He slept a little last night. MY night,thanks to the opium, was the night of a man who is stunned. I can'tsay that I woke this morning; the fitter expression would be, that Irecovered my senses.
We drove to the house to see if the refurnishing was done. It will becompleted to-morrow--Saturday. As Mr. Blake foretold, Betteredge raisedno further obstacles. From first to last, he was ominously polite, andominously silent.
My medical enterprise (as Betteredge calls it) must now, inevitably, bedelayed until Monday next. To-morrow evening the workmen will be late inthe house. On the next day, the established Sunday tyranny which is oneof the institutions of this free country, so times the trains as to makeit impossible to ask anybody to travel to us from London. Until Mondaycomes, there is nothing to be done but to watch Mr. Blake carefully, andto keep him, if possible, in the same state in which I find him to-day.
In the meanwhile, I have prevailed on him to write to Mr. Bruff, makinga point of it that he shall be present as one of the witnesses. Iespecially choose the lawyer, because he is strongly prejudiced againstus. If we convince HIM, we place our victory beyond the possibility ofdispute.
Mr. Blake has also written to Sergeant Cuff; and I have sent a lineto Miss Verinder. With these, and with old Betteredge (who is really aperson of importance in the family) we shall have witnesses enough forthe purpose--without including Mrs. Merridew, if Mrs. Merridew persistsin sacrificing herself to the opinion of the world.
June 23rd.--The vengeance of the opium overtook me again last night. Nomatter; I must go on with it now till Monday is past and gone.
Mr. Blake is not so well again to-day. At two this morning, he confessesthat he opened the drawer in which his cigars are put away. Heonly succeeded in locking it up again by a violent effort. His nextproceeding, in case of temptation, was to throw the key out of window.The waiter brought it in this morning, discovered at the bottom of anempty cistern--such is Fate! I have taken possession of the key untilTuesday next.
June 24th.--Mr. Blake and I took a long drive in an open carriage. Weboth felt beneficially the blessed influence of the soft summer air. Idined with him at the hotel. To my great
relief--for I found him in anover-wrought, over-excited state this morning--he had two hours' soundsleep on the sofa after dinner. If he has another bad night, now--I amnot afraid of the consequence.
June 25th, Monday.--The day of the experiment! It is five o'clock in theafternoon. We have just arrived at the house.
The first and foremost question, is the question of Mr. Blake's health.
So far as it is possible for me to judge, he promises (physicallyspeaking) to be quite as susceptible to the action of the opium to-nightas he was at this time last year. He is, this afternoon, in a state ofnervous sensitiveness which just stops short of nervous irritation. Hechanges colour readily; his hand is not quite steady; and he starts atchance noises, and at unexpected appearances of persons and things.
These results have all been produced by deprivation of sleep, which isin its turn the nervous consequence of a sudden cessation in the habitof smoking, after that habit has been carried to an extreme. Here arethe same causes at work again, which operated last year; and here are,apparently, the same effects. Will the parallel still hold good, whenthe final test has been tried? The events of the night must decide.
While I write these lines, Mr. Blake is amusing himself at the billiardtable in the inner hall, practising different strokes in the game, ashe was accustomed to practise them when he was a guest in this housein June last. I have brought my journal here, partly with a view tooccupying the idle hours which I am sure to have on my hands betweenthis and to-morrow morning; partly in the hope that something may happenwhich it may be worth my while to place on record at the time.
Have I omitted anything, thus far? A glance at yesterday's entry showsme that I have forgotten to note the arrival of the morning's post. Letme set this right before I close these leaves for the present, and joinMr. Blake.
I received a few lines then, yesterday, from Miss Verinder. She hasarranged to travel by the afternoon train, as I recommended. Mrs.Merridew has insisted on accompanying her. The note hints that the oldlady's generally excellent temper is a little ruffled, and requests alldue indulgence for her, in consideration of her age and her habits.I will endeavour, in my relations with Mrs. Merridew, to emulate themoderation which Betteredge displays in his relations with me. Hereceived us to-day, portentously arrayed in his best black suit, andhis stiffest white cravat. Whenever he looks my way, he remembers thatI have not read ROBINSON CRUSOE since I was a child, and he respectfullypities me.
Yesterday, also, Mr. Blake had the lawyer's answer. Mr. Bruff acceptsthe invitation--under protest. It is, he thinks, clearly necessary thata gentleman possessed of the average allowance of common sense, shouldaccompany Miss Verinder to the scene of, what we will venture to call,the proposed exhibition. For want of a better escort, Mr. Bruff himselfwill be that gentleman.--So here is poor Miss Verinder provided with two"chaperones." It is a relief to think that the opinion of the world mustsurely be satisfied with this!
Nothing has been heard of Sergeant Cuff. He is no doubt still inIreland. We must not expect to see him to-night.
Betteredge has just come in, to say that Mr. Blake has asked for me. Imust lay down my pen for the present.
* * * * *
Seven o'clock.--We have been all over the refurnished rooms andstaircases again; and we have had a pleasant stroll in the shrubbery,which was Mr. Blake's favourite walk when he was here last. In this way,I hope to revive the old impressions of places and things as vividly aspossible in his mind.
We are now going to dine, exactly at the hour at which the birthdaydinner was given last year. My object, of course, is a purely medicalone in this case. The laudanum must find the process of digestion, asnearly as may be, where the laudanum found it last year.
At a reasonable time after dinner I propose to lead the conversationback again--as inartificially as I can--to the subject of the Diamond,and of the Indian conspiracy to steal it. When I have filled his mindwith these topics, I shall have done all that it is in my power to do,before the time comes for giving him the second dose.
* * * * *
Half-past eight.--I have only this moment found an opportunity ofattending to the most important duty of all; the duty of looking in thefamily medicine chest, for the laudanum which Mr. Candy used last year.
Ten minutes since, I caught Betteredge at an unoccupied moment, and toldhim what I wanted. Without a word of objection, without so much as anattempt to produce his pocket-book, he led the way (making allowancesfor me at every step) to the store-room in which the medicine chest iskept.
I discovered the bottle, carefully guarded by a glass stopper tiedover with leather. The preparation which it contained was, as I hadanticipated, the common Tincture of Opium. Finding the bottle still wellfilled, I have resolved to use it, in preference to employing either ofthe two preparations with which I had taken care to provide myself, incase of emergency.
The question of the quantity which I am to administer presents certaindifficulties. I have thought it over, and have decided on increasing thedose.
My notes inform me that Mr. Candy only administered twenty-five minims.This is a small dose to have produced the results which followed--evenin the case of a person so sensitive as Mr. Blake. I think it highlyprobable that Mr. Candy gave more than he supposed himself to havegiven--knowing, as I do, that he has a keen relish of the pleasures ofthe table, and that he measured out the laudanum on the birthday, afterdinner. In any case, I shall run the risk of enlarging the dose to fortyminims. On this occasion, Mr. Blake knows beforehand that he is going totake the laudanum--which is equivalent, physiologically speaking, to hishaving (unconsciously to himself) a certain capacity in him to resistthe effects. If my view is right, a larger quantity is thereforeimperatively required, this time, to repeat the results which thesmaller quantity produced, last year.
* * * * *
Ten o'clock.--The witnesses, or the company (which shall I call them?)reached the house an hour since.
A little before nine o'clock, I prevailed on Mr. Blake to accompany meto his bedroom; stating, as a reason, that I wished him to look roundit, for the last time, in order to make quite sure that nothing had beenforgotten in the refurnishing of the room. I had previously arrangedwith Betteredge, that the bedchamber prepared for Mr. Bruff shouldbe the next room to Mr. Blake's, and that I should be informed of thelawyer's arrival by a knock at the door. Five minutes after the clock inthe hall had struck nine, I heard the knock; and, going out immediately,met Mr. Bruff in the corridor.
My personal appearance (as usual) told against me. Mr. Bruff's distrustlooked at me plainly enough out of Mr. Bruff's eyes. Being well usedto producing this effect on strangers, I did not hesitate a moment insaying what I wanted to say, before the lawyer found his way into Mr.Blake's room.
"You have travelled here, I believe, in company with Mrs. Merridew andMiss Verinder?" I said.
"Yes," answered Mr. Bruff, as drily as might be.
"Miss Verinder has probably told you, that I wish her presence in thehouse (and Mrs. Merridew's presence of course) to be kept a secret fromMr. Blake, until my experiment on him has been tried first?"
"I know that I am to hold my tongue, sir!" said Mr. Bruff, impatiently."Being habitually silent on the subject of human folly, I am all thereadier to keep my lips closed on this occasion. Does that satisfy you?"
I bowed, and left Betteredge to show him to his room. Betteredge gaveme one look at parting, which said, as if in so many words, "You havecaught a Tartar, Mr. Jennings--and the name of him is Bruff."
It was next necessary to get the meeting over with the two ladies. Idescended the stairs--a little nervously, I confess--on my way to MissVerinder's sitting-room.
The gardener's wife (charged with looking after the accommodation of theladies) met me in the first-floor corridor. This excellent womantreats me with an excessive civility which is plainly the offspring ofdown-right terror. She stares, trembles, and curtseys, whenever I speakto her. On my asking for Miss Verinder, she stared, trembled, and wouldno
doubt have curtseyed next, if Miss Verinder herself had not cut thatceremony short, by suddenly opening her sitting-room door.
"Is that Mr. Jennings?" she asked.
Before I could answer, she came out eagerly to speak to me in thecorridor. We met under the light of a lamp on a bracket. At the firstsight of me, Miss Verinder stopped, and hesitated. She recovered herselfinstantly, coloured for a moment--and then, with a charming frankness,offered me her hand.
"I can't treat you like a stranger, Mr. Jennings," she said. "Oh, if youonly knew how happy your letters have made me!"
She looked at my ugly wrinkled face, with a bright gratitude so new tome in my experience of my fellow-creatures, that I was at a loss how toanswer her. Nothing had prepared me for her kindness and her beauty.The misery of many years has not hardened my heart, thank God. I was asawkward and as shy with her, as if I had been a lad in my teens.
"Where is he now?" she asked, giving free expression to her one dominantinterest--the interest in Mr. Blake. "What is he doing? Has he spokenof me? Is he in good spirits? How does he bear the sight of the house,after what happened in it last year? When are you going to give himthe laudanum? May I see you pour it out? I am so interested; I am soexcited--I have ten thousand things to say to you, and they all crowdtogether so that I don't know what to say first. Do you wonder at theinterest I take in this?"
"No," I said. "I venture to think that I thoroughly understand it."
She was far above the paltry affectation of being confused. She answeredme as she might have answered a brother or a father.
"You have relieved me of indescribable wretchedness; you have given mea new life. How can I be ungrateful enough to have any concealmentfrom you? I love him," she said simply, "I have loved him from first tolast--even when I was wronging him in my own thoughts; even when I wassaying the hardest and the cruellest words to him. Is there any excusefor me, in that? I hope there is--I am afraid it is the only excuse Ihave. When to-morrow comes, and he knows that I am in the house, do youthink----"
She stopped again, and looked at me very earnestly.
"When to-morrow comes," I said, "I think you have only to tell him whatyou have just told me."
Her face brightened; she came a step nearer to me. Her fingers triflednervously with a flower which I had picked in the garden, and which Ihad put into the button-hole of my coat.
"You have seen a great deal of him lately," she said. "Have you, reallyand truly, seen THAT?"
"Really and truly," I answered. "I am quite certain of what will happento-morrow. I wish I could feel as certain of what will happen to-night."
At that point in the conversation, we were interrupted by the appearanceof Betteredge with the tea-tray. He gave me another significant look ashe passed on into the sitting-room. "Aye! aye! make your hay while thesun shines. The Tartar's upstairs, Mr. Jennings--the Tartar's upstairs!"
We followed him into the room. A little old lady, in a corner,very nicely dressed, and very deeply absorbed over a smart piece ofembroidery, dropped her work in her lap, and uttered a faint littlescream at the first sight of my gipsy complexion and my piebald hair.
"Mrs. Merridew," said Miss Verinder, "this is Mr. Jennings."
"I beg Mr. Jennings's pardon," said the old lady, looking at MissVerinder, and speaking at me. "Railway travelling always makes menervous. I am endeavouring to quiet my mind by occupying myself asusual. I don't know whether my embroidery is out of place, on thisextraordinary occasion. If it interferes with Mr. Jennings's medicalviews, I shall be happy to put it away of course."
I hastened to sanction the presence of the embroidery, exactly as I hadsanctioned the absence of the burst buzzard and the Cupid's wing. Mrs.Merridew made an effort--a grateful effort--to look at my hair. No! itwas not to be done. Mrs. Merridew looked back again at Miss Verinder.
"If Mr. Jennings will permit me," pursued the old lady, "I should liketo ask a favour. Mr. Jennings is about to try a scientific experimentto-night. I used to attend scientific experiments when I was a girl atschool. They invariably ended in an explosion. If Mr. Jennings will beso very kind, I should like to be warned of the explosion this time.With a view to getting it over, if possible, before I go to bed."
I attempted to assure Mrs. Merridew that an explosion was not includedin the programme on this occasion.
"No," said the old lady. "I am much obliged to Mr. Jennings--I am awarethat he is only deceiving me for my own good. I prefer plain dealing.I am quite resigned to the explosion--but I DO want to get it over, ifpossible, before I go to bed."
Here the door opened, and Mrs. Merridew uttered another little scream.The advent of the explosion? No: only the advent of Betteredge.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Jennings," said Betteredge, in his mostelaborately confidential manner. "Mr. Franklin wishes to know where youare. Being under your orders to deceive him, in respect to the presenceof my young lady in the house, I have said I don't know. That you willplease to observe, was a lie. Having one foot already in the grave, sir,the fewer lies you expect me to tell, the more I shall be indebted toyou, when my conscience pricks me and my time comes."
There was not a moment to be wasted on the purely speculative questionof Betteredge's conscience. Mr. Blake might make his appearance insearch of me, unless I went to him at once in his own room. MissVerinder followed me out into the corridor.
"They seem to be in a conspiracy to persecute you," she said. "What doesit mean?"
"Only the protest of the world, Miss Verinder--on a very smallscale--against anything that is new."
"What are we to do with Mrs. Merridew?"
"Tell her the explosion will take place at nine to-morrow morning."
"So as to send her to bed?"
"Yes--so as to send her to bed."
Miss Verinder went back to the sitting-room, and I went upstairs to Mr.Blake.
To my surprise I found him alone; restlessly pacing his room, and alittle irritated at being left by himself.
"Where is Mr. Bruff?" I asked.
He pointed to the closed door of communication between the two rooms.Mr. Bruff had looked in on him, for a moment; had attempted to renew hisprotest against our proceedings; and had once more failed to produce thesmallest impression on Mr. Blake. Upon this, the lawyer had taken refugein a black leather bag, filled to bursting with professional papers."The serious business of life," he admitted, "was sadly out of place onsuch an occasion as the present. But the serious business of lifemust be carried on, for all that. Mr. Blake would perhaps kindly makeallowance for the old-fashioned habits of a practical man. Time wasmoney--and, as for Mr. Jennings, he might depend on it that Mr. Bruffwould be forthcoming when called upon." With that apology, the lawyerhad gone back to his own room, and had immersed himself obstinately inhis black bag.
I thought of Mrs. Merridew and her embroidery, and of Betteredge andhis conscience. There is a wonderful sameness in the solid side of theEnglish character--just as there is a wonderful sameness in the solidexpression of the English face.
"When are you going to give me the laudanum?" asked Mr. Blakeimpatiently.
"You must wait a little longer," I said. "I will stay and keep youcompany till the time comes."
It was then not ten o'clock. Inquiries which I had made, at varioustimes, of Betteredge and Mr. Blake, had led me to the conclusion thatthe dose of laudanum given by Mr. Candy could not possibly have beenadministered before eleven. I had accordingly determined not to try thesecond dose until that time.
We talked a little; but both our minds were preoccupied by the comingordeal. The conversation soon flagged--then dropped altogether. Mr.Blake idly turned over the books on his bedroom table. I had takenthe precaution of looking at them, when we first entered the room. THEGUARDIAN; THE TATLER; Richardson's PAMELA; Mackenzie's MAN OF FEELING;Roscoe's LORENZO DE MEDICI; and Robertson's CHARLES THE FIFTH--allclassical works; all (of course) immeasurably superior to anythingproduced in later times; and all (from my present point of view)possessing the on
e great merit of enchaining nobody's interest, andexciting nobody's brain. I left Mr. Blake to the composing influenceof Standard Literature, and occupied myself in making this entry in myjournal.
My watch informs me that it is close on eleven o'clock. I must shut upthese leaves once more.
* * * * *
Two o'clock A.M.--The experiment has been tried. With what result, I amnow to describe.
At eleven o'clock, I rang the bell for Betteredge, and told Mr. Blakethat he might at last prepare himself for bed.
I looked out of the window at the night. It was mild and rainy,resembling, in this respect, the night of the birthday--the twenty-firstof June, last year. Without professing to believe in omens, it was atleast encouraging to find no direct nervous influences--no stormy orelectric perturbations--in the atmosphere. Betteredge joined me at thewindow, and mysteriously put a little slip of paper into my hand. Itcontained these lines:
"Mrs. Merridew has gone to bed, on the distinct understanding that theexplosion is to take place at nine to-morrow morning, and that I am notto stir out of this part of the house until she comes and sets mefree. She has no idea that the chief scene of the experiment is mysitting-room--or she would have remained in it for the whole night! I amalone, and very anxious. Pray let me see you measure out the laudanum; Iwant to have something to do with it, even in the unimportant characterof a mere looker-on.--R.V."
I followed Betteredge out of the room, and told him to remove themedicine-chest into Miss Verinder's sitting-room.
The order appeared to take him completely by surprise. He looked as ifhe suspected me of some occult medical design on Miss Verinder! "MightI presume to ask," he said, "what my young lady and the medicine-chesthave got to do with each other?"
"Stay in the sitting-room, and you will see."
Betteredge appeared to doubt his own unaided capacity to superintend meeffectually, on an occasion when a medicine-chest was included in theproceedings.
"Is there any objection, sir" he asked, "to taking Mr. Bruff into thispart of the business?"
"Quite the contrary! I am now going to ask Mr. Bruff to accompany medown-stairs."
Betteredge withdrew to fetch the medicine-chest, without another word.I went back into Mr. Blake's room, and knocked at the doorof communication. Mr. Bruff opened it, with his papers in hishand--immersed in Law; impenetrable to Medicine.
"I am sorry to disturb you," I said. "But I am going to prepare thelaudanum for Mr. Blake; and I must request you to be present, and to seewhat I do."
"Yes?" said Mr. Bruff, with nine-tenths of his attention riveted on hispapers, and with one-tenth unwillingly accorded to me. "Anything else?"
"I must trouble you to return here with me, and to see me administer thedose."
"Anything else?"
"One thing more. I must put you to the inconvenience of remaining in Mr.Blake's room, and of waiting to see what happens."
"Oh, very good!" said Mr. Bruff. "My room, or Mr. Blake's room--itdoesn't matter which; I can go on with my papers anywhere. Unless youobject, Mr. Jennings, to my importing THAT amount of common sense intothe proceedings?"
Before I could answer, Mr. Blake addressed himself to the lawyer,speaking from his bed.
"Do you really mean to say that you don't feel any interest in what weare going to do?" he asked. "Mr. Bruff, you have no more imaginationthan a cow!"
"A cow is a very useful animal, Mr. Blake," said the lawyer. With thatreply he followed me out of the room, still keeping his papers in hishand.
We found Miss Verinder, pale and agitated, restlessly pacing hersitting-room from end to end. At a table in a corner stood Betteredge,on guard over the medicine-chest. Mr. Bruff sat down on the first chairthat he could find, and (emulating the usefulness of the cow) plungedback again into his papers on the spot.
Miss Verinder drew me aside, and reverted instantly to her oneall-absorbing interest--her interest in Mr. Blake.
"How is he now?" she asked. "Is he nervous? is he out of temper? Do youthink it will succeed? Are you sure it will do no harm?"
"Quite sure. Come, and see me measure it out."
"One moment! It is past eleven now. How long will it be before anythinghappens?"
"It is not easy to say. An hour perhaps."
"I suppose the room must be dark, as it was last year?"
"Certainly."
"I shall wait in my bedroom--just as I did before. I shall keep the doora little way open. It was a little way open last year. I will watch thesitting-room door; and the moment it moves, I will blow out my light. Itall happened in that way, on my birthday night. And it must all happenagain in the same way, musn't it?"
"Are you sure you can control yourself, Miss Verinder?"
"In HIS interests, I can do anything!" she answered fervently.
One look at her face told me that I could trust her. I addressed myselfagain to Mr. Bruff.
"I must trouble you to put your papers aside for a moment," I said.
"Oh, certainly!" He got up with a start--as if I had disturbed him at aparticularly interesting place--and followed me to the medicine-chest.There, deprived of the breathless excitement incidental to the practiceof his profession, he looked at Betteredge--and yawned wearily.
Miss Verinder joined me with a glass jug of cold water, which she hadtaken from a side-table. "Let me pour out the water," she whispered. "Imust have a hand in it!"
I measured out the forty minims from the bottle, and poured the laudanuminto a medicine glass. "Fill it till it is three parts full," I said,and handed the glass to Miss Verinder. I then directed Betteredge tolock up the medicine chest; informing him that I had done with it now. Alook of unutterable relief overspread the old servant's countenance. Hehad evidently suspected me of a medical design on his young lady!
After adding the water as I had directed, Miss Verinder seized amoment--while Betteredge was locking the chest, and while Mr. Bruff waslooking back to his papers--and slyly kissed the rim of the medicineglass. "When you give it to him," said the charming girl, "give it tohim on that side!"
I took the piece of crystal which was to represent the Diamond from mypocket, and gave it to her.
"You must have a hand in this, too," I said. "You must put it where youput the Moonstone last year."
She led the way to the Indian cabinet, and put the mock Diamond into thedrawer which the real Diamond had occupied on the birthday night. Mr.Bruff witnessed this proceeding, under protest, as he had witnessedeverything else. But the strong dramatic interest which the experimentwas now assuming, proved (to my great amusement) to be too much forBetteredge's capacity of self restraint. His hand trembled as he heldthe candle, and he whispered anxiously, "Are you sure, miss, it's theright drawer?"
I led the way out again, with the laudanum and water in my hand. At thedoor, I stopped to address a last word to Miss Verinder.
"Don't be long in putting out the lights," I said.
"I will put them out at once," she answered. "And I will wait in mybedroom, with only one candle alight."
She closed the sitting-room door behind us. Followed by Mr. Bruff andBetteredge, I went back to Mr. Blake's room.
We found him moving restlessly from side to side of the bed, andwondering irritably whether he was to have the laudanum that night. Inthe presence of the two witnesses, I gave him the dose, and shook up hispillows, and told him to lie down again quietly and wait.
His bed, provided with light chintz curtains, was placed, with the headagainst the wall of the room, so as to leave a good open space on eitherside of it. On one side, I drew the curtains completely--and in thepart of the room thus screened from his view, I placed Mr. Bruff andBetteredge, to wait for the result. At the bottom of the bed I half drewthe curtains--and placed my own chair at a little distance, so that Imight let him see me or not see me, speak to me or not speak to me, justas the circumstances might direct. Having already been informed that healways slept with a light in the room, I placed one of the two lightedcandles on
a little table at the head of the bed, where the glare ofthe light would not strike on his eyes. The other candle I gave to Mr.Bruff; the light, in this instance, being subdued by the screen of thechintz curtains. The window was open at the top, so as to ventilate theroom. The rain fell softly, the house was quiet. It was twenty minutespast eleven, by my watch, when the preparations were completed, and Itook my place on the chair set apart at the bottom of the bed.
Mr. Bruff resumed his papers, with every appearance of being as deeplyinterested in them as ever. But looking towards him now, I saw certainsigns and tokens which told me that the Law was beginning to lose itshold on him at last. The suspended interest of the situation in whichwe were now placed was slowly asserting its influence even on HISunimaginative mind. As for Betteredge, consistency of principle anddignity of conduct had become, in his case, mere empty words. He forgotthat I was performing a conjuring trick on Mr. Franklin Blake; he forgotthat I had upset the house from top to bottom; he forgot that I had notread ROBINSON CRUSOE since I was a child. "For the Lord's sake, sir," hewhispered to me, "tell us when it will begin to work."
"Not before midnight," I whispered back. "Say nothing, and sit still."
Betteredge dropped to the lowest depth of familiarity with me, without astruggle to save himself. He answered by a wink!
Looking next towards Mr. Blake, I found him as restless as ever in hisbed; fretfully wondering why the influence of the laudanum had not begunto assert itself yet. To tell him, in his present humour, that the morehe fidgeted and wondered, the longer he would delay the result for whichwe were now waiting, would have been simply useless. The wiser course totake was to dismiss the idea of the opium from his mind, by leading himinsensibly to think of something else.
With this view, I encouraged him to talk to me; contriving so to directthe conversation, on my side, as to lead it back again to the subjectwhich had engaged us earlier in the evening--the subject of the Diamond.I took care to revert to those portions of the story of the Moonstone,which related to the transport of it from London to Yorkshire; tothe risk which Mr. Blake had run in removing it from the bank atFrizinghall: and to the unexpected appearance of the Indians at thehouse, on the evening of the birthday. And I purposely assumed, inreferring to these events, to have misunderstood much of what Mr. Blakehimself had told me a few hours since. In this way, I set him talkingon the subject with which it was now vitally important to fill hismind--without allowing him to suspect that I was making him talk for apurpose. Little by little, he became so interested in putting me rightthat he forgot to fidget in the bed. His mind was far away from thequestion of the opium, at the all-important time when his eyes firsttold me that the opium was beginning to lay its hold on his brain.
I looked at my watch. It wanted five minutes to twelve, when thepremonitory symptoms of the working of the laudanum first showedthemselves to me.
At this time, no unpractised eyes would have detected any change in him.But, as the minutes of the new morning wore away, the swiftly-subtleprogress of the influence began to show itself more plainly. Thesublime intoxication of opium gleamed in his eyes; the dew of a stealthyperspiration began to glisten on his face. In five minutes more, thetalk which he still kept up with me, failed in coherence. He heldsteadily to the subject of the Diamond; but he ceased to complete hissentences. A little later, the sentences dropped to single words. Then,there was an interval of silence. Then, he sat up in bed. Then, stillbusy with the subject of the Diamond, he began to talk again--not tome, but to himself. That change told me that the first stage in theexperiment was reached. The stimulant influence of the opium had gothim.
The time, now, was twenty-three minutes past twelve. The next half hour,at most, would decide the question of whether he would, or would not,get up from his bed, and leave the room.
In the breathless interest of watching him--in the unutterable triumphof seeing the first result of the experiment declare itself in themanner, and nearly at the time, which I had anticipated--I had utterlyforgotten the two companions of my night vigil. Looking towards themnow, I saw the Law (as represented by Mr. Bruff's papers) lying unheededon the floor. Mr. Bruff himself was looking eagerly through a creviceleft in the imperfectly-drawn curtains of the bed. And Betteredge,oblivious of all respect for social distinctions, was peeping over Mr.Bruff's shoulder.
They both started back, on finding that I was looking at them, like twoboys caught out by their schoolmaster in a fault. I signed to them totake off their boots quietly, as I was taking off mine. If Mr. Blakegave us the chance of following him, it was vitally necessary to followhim without noise.
Ten minutes passed--and nothing happened. Then, he suddenly threw thebed-clothes off him. He put one leg out of bed. He waited.
"I wish I had never taken it out of the bank," he said to himself. "Itwas safe in the bank."
My heart throbbed fast; the pulses at my temples beat furiously. Thedoubt about the safety of the Diamond was, once more, the dominantimpression in his brain! On that one pivot, the whole success of theexperiment turned. The prospect thus suddenly opened before me was toomuch for my shattered nerves. I was obliged to look away from him--or Ishould have lost my self-control.
There was another interval of silence.
When I could trust myself to look back at him he was out of his bed,standing erect at the side of it. The pupils of his eyes were nowcontracted; his eyeballs gleamed in the light of the candle as he movedhis head slowly to and fro. He was thinking; he was doubting--he spokeagain.
"How do I know?" he said. "The Indians may be hidden in the house."
He stopped, and walked slowly to the other end of the room. Heturned--waited--came back to the bed.
"It's not even locked up," he went on. "It's in the drawer of hercabinet. And the drawer doesn't lock."
He sat down on the side of the bed. "Anybody might take it," he said.
He rose again restlessly, and reiterated his first words.
"How do I know? The Indians may be hidden in the house."
He waited again. I drew back behind the half curtain of the bed. Helooked about the room, with a vacant glitter in his eyes. It was abreathless moment. There was a pause of some sort. A pause in theaction of the opium? a pause in the action of the brain? Who could tell?Everything depended, now, on what he did next.
He laid himself down again on the bed!
A horrible doubt crossed my mind. Was it possible that the sedativeaction of the opium was making itself felt already? It was not in myexperience that it should do this. But what is experience, where opiumis concerned? There are probably no two men in existence on whomthe drug acts in exactly the same manner. Was some constitutionalpeculiarity in him, feeling the influence in some new way? Were we tofail on the very brink of success?
No! He got up again abruptly. "How the devil am I to sleep," he said,"with THIS on my mind?"
He looked at the light, burning on the table at the head of his bed.After a moment, he took the candle in his hand.
I blew out the second candle, burning behind the closed curtains. I drewback, with Mr. Bruff and Betteredge, into the farthest corner by thebed. I signed to them to be silent, as if their lives had depended onit.
We waited--seeing and hearing nothing. We waited, hidden from him by thecurtains.
The light which he was holding on the other side of us moved suddenly.The next moment he passed us, swift and noiseless, with the candle inhis hand.
He opened the bedroom door, and went out.
We followed him along the corridor. We followed him down the stairs. Wefollowed him along the second corridor. He never looked back; he neverhesitated.
He opened the sitting-room door, and went in, leaving it open behindhim.
The door was hung (like all the other doors in the house) on largeold-fashioned hinges. When it was opened, a crevice was opened betweenthe door and the post. I signed to my two companions to lookthrough this, so as to keep them from showing themselves. I placedmyself--outside the door also
--on the opposite side. A recess in thewall was at my left hand, in which I could instantly hide myself, if heshowed any signs of looking back into the corridor.
He advanced to the middle of the room, with the candle still in hishand: he looked about him--but he never looked back.
I saw the door of Miss Verinder's bedroom, standing ajar. She had putout her light. She controlled herself nobly. The dim white outline ofher summer dress was all that I could see. Nobody who had not known itbeforehand would have suspected that there was a living creature in theroom. She kept back, in the dark: not a word, not a movement escapedher.
It was now ten minutes past one. I heard, through the dead silence, thesoft drip of the rain and the tremulous passage of the night air throughthe trees.
After waiting irresolute, for a minute or more, in the middle of theroom, he moved to the corner near the window, where the Indian cabinetstood.
He put his candle on the top of the cabinet. He opened, and shut, onedrawer after another, until he came to the drawer in which the mockDiamond was put. He looked into the drawer for a moment. Then he tookthe mock Diamond out with his right hand. With the other hand, he tookthe candle from the top of the cabinet.
He walked back a few steps towards the middle of the room, and stoodstill again.
Thus far, he had exactly repeated what he had done on the birthdaynight. Would his next proceeding be the same as the proceeding of lastyear? Would he leave the room? Would he go back now, as I believed hehad gone back then, to his bed-chamber? Would he show us what he haddone with the Diamond, when he had returned to his own room?
His first action, when he moved once more, proved to be an action whichhe had not performed, when he was under the influence of the opium forthe first time. He put the candle down on a table, and wandered on alittle towards the farther end of the room. There was a sofa there.He leaned heavily on the back of it, with his left hand--then rousedhimself, and returned to the middle of the room. I could now see hiseyes. They were getting dull and heavy; the glitter in them was fastdying out.
The suspense of the moment proved too much for Miss Verinder'sself-control. She advanced a few steps--then stopped again. Mr. Bruffand Betteredge looked across the open doorway at me for the first time.The prevision of a coming disappointment was impressing itself on theirminds as well as on mine.
Still, so long as he stood where he was, there was hope. We waited, inunutterable expectation, to see what would happen next.
The next event was decisive. He let the mock Diamond drop out of hishand.
It fell on the floor, before the doorway--plainly visible to him, andto everyone. He made no effort to pick it up: he looked down atit vacantly, and, as he looked, his head sank on his breast. Hestaggered--roused himself for an instant--walked back unsteadily to thesofa--and sat down on it. He made a last effort; he tried to rise, andsank back. His head fell on the sofa cushions. It was then twenty-fiveminutes past one o'clock. Before I had put my watch back in my pocket,he was asleep.
It was all over now. The sedative influence had got him; the experimentwas at an end.
I entered the room, telling Mr. Bruff and Betteredge that they mightfollow me. There was no fear of disturbing him. We were free to move andspeak.
"The first thing to settle," I said, "is the question of what we are todo with him. He will probably sleep for the next six or seven hours, atleast. It is some distance to carry him back to his own room. When I wasyounger, I could have done it alone. But my health and strength are notwhat they were--I am afraid I must ask you to help me."
Before they could answer, Miss Verinder called to me softly. She met meat the door of her room, with a light shawl, and with the counterpanefrom her own bed.
"Do you mean to watch him while he sleeps?" she asked.
"Yes, I am not sure enough of the action of the opium in his case to bewilling to leave him alone."
She handed me the shawl and the counterpane.
"Why should you disturb him?" she whispered. "Make his bed on the sofa.I can shut my door, and keep in my room."
It was infinitely the simplest and the safest way of disposing ofhim for the night. I mentioned the suggestion to Mr. Bruff andBetteredge--who both approved of my adopting it. In five minutes I hadlaid him comfortably on the sofa, and had covered him lightly withthe counterpane and the shawl. Miss Verinder wished us good night, andclosed the door. At my request, we three then drew round the table inthe middle of the room, on which the candle was still burning, and onwhich writing materials were placed.
"Before we separate," I began, "I have a word to say about theexperiment which has been tried to-night. Two distinct objects were tobe gained by it. The first of these objects was to prove, that Mr. Blakeentered this room, and took the Diamond, last year, acting unconsciouslyand irresponsibly, under the influence of opium. After what you haveboth seen, are you both satisfied, so far?"
They answered me in the affirmative, without a moment's hesitation.
"The second object," I went on, "was to discover what he did with theDiamond, after he was seen by Miss Verinder to leave her sitting-roomwith the jewel in his hand, on the birthday night. The gaining of thisobject depended, of course, on his still continuing exactly to repeathis proceedings of last year. He has failed to do that; and the purposeof the experiment is defeated accordingly. I can't assert that I amnot disappointed at the result--but I can honestly say that I am notsurprised by it. I told Mr. Blake from the first, that our completesuccess in this matter depended on our completely reproducing in him thephysical and moral conditions of last year--and I warned him that thiswas the next thing to a downright impossibility. We have only partiallyreproduced the conditions, and the experiment has been only partiallysuccessful in consequence. It is also possible that I may haveadministered too large a dose of laudanum. But I myself look upon thefirst reason that I have given, as the true reason why we have to lamenta failure, as well as to rejoice over a success."
After saying those words, I put the writing materials before Mr. Bruff,and asked him if he had any objection--before we separated for thenight--to draw out, and sign, a plain statement of what he had seen.He at once took the pen, and produced the statement with the fluentreadiness of a practised hand.
"I owe you this," he said, signing the paper, "as some atonement forwhat passed between us earlier in the evening. I beg your pardon,Mr. Jennings, for having doubted you. You have done Franklin Blake aninestimable service. In our legal phrase, you have proved your case."
Betteredge's apology was characteristic of the man.
"Mr. Jennings," he said, "when you read ROBINSON CRUSOE again (which Istrongly recommend you to do), you will find that he never scruples toacknowledge it, when he turns out to have been in the wrong. Pleaseto consider me, sir, as doing what Robinson Crusoe did, on the presentoccasion." With those words he signed the paper in his turn.
Mr. Bruff took me aside, as we rose from the table.
"One word about the Diamond," he said. "Your theory is that FranklinBlake hid the Moonstone in his room. My theory is, that the Moonstoneis in the possession of Mr. Luker's bankers in London. We won't disputewhich of us is right. We will only ask, which of us is in a position toput his theory to the test?"
"The test, in my case," I answered, "has been tried to-night, and hasfailed."
"The test, in my case," rejoined Mr. Bruff, "is still in process oftrial. For the last two days I have had a watch set for Mr. Luker at thebank; and I shall cause that watch to be continued until the last dayof the month. I know that he must take the Diamond himself out of hisbankers' hands--and I am acting on the chance that the person who haspledged the Diamond may force him to do this by redeeming the pledge.In that case I may be able to lay my hand on the person. If I succeed, Iclear up the mystery, exactly at the point where the mystery baffles usnow! Do you admit that, so far?"
I admitted it readily.
"I am going back to town by the morning train," pursued the lawyer. "Imay hear, when I return, that
a discovery has been made--and it may beof the greatest importance that I should have Franklin Blake at hand toappeal to, if necessary. I intend to tell him, as soon as he wakes, thathe must return with me to London. After all that has happened, may Itrust to your influence to back me?"
"Certainly!" I said.
Mr. Bruff shook hands with me, and left the room. Betteredge followedhim out; I went to the sofa to look at Mr. Blake. He had not moved sinceI had laid him down and made his bed--he lay locked in a deep and quietsleep.
While I was still looking at him, I heard the bedroom door softlyopened. Once more, Miss Verinder appeared on the threshold, in herpretty summer dress.
"Do me a last favour?" she whispered. "Let me watch him with you."
I hesitated--not in the interests of propriety; only in the interest ofher night's rest. She came close to me, and took my hand.
"I can't sleep; I can't even sit still, in my own room," she said. "Oh,Mr. Jennings, if you were me, only think how you would long to sit andlook at him. Say, yes! Do!"
Is it necessary to mention that I gave way? Surely not!
She drew a chair to the foot of the sofa. She looked at him in a silentecstasy of happiness, till the tears rose in her eyes. She dried hereyes, and said she would fetch her work. She fetched her work, and neverdid a single stitch of it. It lay in her lap--she was not even able tolook away from him long enough to thread her needle. I thought of my ownyouth; I thought of the gentle eyes which had once looked love at me. Inthe heaviness of my heart I turned to my Journal for relief, and wrotein it what is written here.
So we kept our watch together in silence. One of us absorbed in hiswriting; the other absorbed in her love.
Hour after hour he lay in his deep sleep. The light of the new day grewand grew in the room, and still he never moved.
Towards six o'clock, I felt the warning which told me that my painswere coming back. I was obliged to leave her alone with him for a littlewhile. I said I would go up-stairs, and fetch another pillow for him outof his room. It was not a long attack, this time. In a little while Iwas able to venture back, and let her see me again.
I found her at the head of the sofa, when I returned. She was justtouching his forehead with her lips. I shook my head as soberly as Icould, and pointed to her chair. She looked back at me with a brightsmile, and a charming colour in her face. "You would have done it," shewhispered, "in my place!"
* * * * *
It is just eight o'clock. He is beginning to move for the first time.
Miss Verinder is kneeling by the side of the sofa. She has so placedherself that when his eyes first open, they must open on her face.
Shall I leave them together?
Yes!
* * * * *
Eleven o'clock.--The house is empty again. They have arranged it amongthemselves; they have all gone to London by the ten o'clock train. Mybrief dream of happiness is over. I have awakened again to the realitiesof my friendless and lonely life.
I dare not trust myself to write down, the kind words that have beensaid to me especially by Miss Verinder and Mr. Blake. Besides, it isneedless. Those words will come back to me in my solitary hours, andwill help me through what is left of the end of my life. Mr. Blake is towrite, and tell me what happens in London. Miss Verinder is to return toYorkshire in the autumn (for her marriage, no doubt); and I am to take aholiday, and be a guest in the house. Oh me, how I felt, as the gratefulhappiness looked at me out of her eyes, and the warm pressure of herhand said, "This is your doing!"
My poor patients are waiting for me. Back again, this morning, to theold routine! Back again, to-night, to the dreadful alternative betweenthe opium and the pain!
God be praised for His mercy! I have seen a little sunshine--I have hada happy time.
FIFTH NARRATIVE
The Story Resumed by FRANKLIN BLAKE