Information of both outrages was communicated to the police, and the
needful investigations were pursued, I believe, with great energy.
The authorities held that a robbery had been planned, on insufficient
information received by the thieves. They had been plainly not sure
whether Mr. Luker had, or had not, trusted the transmission of his
precious gem to another person; and poor polite Mr. Godfrey had paid the
penalty of having been seen accidentally speaking to him. Add to this,
that Mr. Godfrey's absence from our Monday evening meeting had been
occasioned by a consultation of the authorities, at which he was
requested to assist--and all the explanations required being now
given, I may proceed with the simpler story of my own little personal
experiences in Montagu Square.
I was punctual to the luncheon hour on Tuesday. Reference to my diary
shows this to have been a chequered day--much in it to be devoutly
regretted, much in it to be devoutly thankful for.
Dear Aunt Verinder received me with her usual grace and kindness. But I
noticed, after a little while, that something was wrong. Certain anxious
looks escaped my aunt, all of which took the direction of her daughter.
I never see Rachel myself without wondering how it can be that so
insignificant-looking a person should be the child of such distinguished
parents as Sir John and Lady Verinder. On this occasion, however, she
not only disappointed--she really shocked me. There was an absence of
all lady-like restraint in her language and manner most painful to
see. She was possessed by some feverish excitement which made her
distressingly loud when she laughed, and sinfully wasteful and
capricious in what she ate and drank at lunch. I felt deeply for
her poor mother, even before the true state of the case had been
confidentially made known to me.
Luncheon over, my aunt said: "Remember what the doctor told you, Rachel,
about quieting yourself with a book after taking your meals."
"I'll go into the library, mamma," she answered. "But if Godfrey
calls, mind I am told of it. I am dying for more news of him, after
his adventure in Northumberland Street." She kissed her mother on the
forehead, and looked my way. "Good-bye, Clack," she said, carelessly.
Her insolence roused no angry feeling in me; I only made a private
memorandum to pray for her.
When we were left by ourselves, my aunt told me the whole horrible story
of the Indian Diamond, which, I am happy to know, it is not necessary to
repeat here. She did not conceal from me that she would have preferred
keeping silence on the subject. But when her own servants all knew
of the loss of the Moonstone, and when some of the circumstances had
actually found their way into the newspapers--when strangers were
speculating whether there was any connection between what had
happened at Lady Verinder's country-house, and what had happened in
Northumberland Street and Alfred Place--concealment was not to be
thought of; and perfect frankness became a necessity as well as a
virtue.