The Moonstone - Page 250/404

Mr. Bruff looked unaffectedly distressed.

"If you insist on an answer," he said, "I own I can place no other

interpretation on her conduct than that."

I rang the bell, and directed my servant to pack my portmanteau, and to

send out for a railway guide. Mr. Bruff asked, in astonishment, what I

was going to do.

"I am going to Yorkshire," I answered, "by the next train."

"May I ask for what purpose?"

"Mr. Bruff, the assistance I innocently rendered to the inquiry after

the Diamond was an unpardoned offence, in Rachel's mind, nearly a year

since; and it remains an unpardoned offence still. I won't accept that

position! I am determined to find out the secret of her silence towards

her mother, and her enmity towards me. If time, pains, and money can do

it, I will lay my hand on the thief who took the Moonstone!"

The worthy old gentleman attempted to remonstrate--to induce me to

listen to reason--to do his duty towards me, in short. I was deaf to

everything that he could urge. No earthly consideration would, at that

moment, have shaken the resolution that was in me.

"I shall take up the inquiry again," I went on, "at the point where I

dropped it; and I shall follow it onwards, step by step, till I come to

the present time. There are missing links in the evidence, as I left it,

which Gabriel Betteredge can supply, and to Gabriel Betteredge I go!"

Towards sunset that evening I stood again on the well-remembered

terrace, and looked once more at the peaceful old country house. The

gardener was the first person whom I saw in the deserted grounds. He had

left Betteredge, an hour since, sunning himself in the customary corner

of the back yard. I knew it well; and I said I would go and seek him

myself.

I walked round by the familiar paths and passages, and looked in at the

open gate of the yard.

There he was--the dear old friend of the happy days that were never to

come again--there he was in the old corner, on the old beehive chair,

with his pipe in his mouth, and his ROBINSON CRUSOE on his lap, and his

two friends, the dogs, dozing on either side of him! In the position

in which I stood, my shadow was projected in front of me by the last

slanting rays of the sun. Either the dogs saw it, or their keen scent

informed them of my approach; they started up with a growl. Starting

in his turn, the old man quieted them by a word, and then shaded his

failing eyes with his hand, and looked inquiringly at the figure at the

gate.

My own eyes were full of tears. I was obliged to wait a moment before I

could trust myself to speak to him.