The Moonstone - Page 30/404

This was the sum-total of what I had to tell Mr. Franklin. I remarked

that he listened more and more eagerly the longer I went on. Also, that

the story of the Colonel being sent away from his sister's door, on the

occasion of his niece's birthday, seemed to strike Mr. Franklin like a

shot that had hit the mark. Though he didn't acknowledge it, I saw that

I had made him uneasy, plainly enough, in his face.

"You have said your say, Betteredge," he remarked. "It's my turn now.

Before, however, I tell you what discoveries I have made in London, and

how I came to be mixed up in this matter of the Diamond, I want to know

one thing. You look, my old friend, as if you didn't quite understand

the object to be answered by this consultation of ours. Do your looks

belie you?"

"No, sir," I said. "My looks, on this occasion at any rate, tell the

truth."

"In that case," says Mr. Franklin, "suppose I put you up to my point

of view, before we go any further. I see three very serious questions

involved in the Colonel's birthday-gift to my cousin Rachel. Follow me

carefully, Betteredge; and count me off on your fingers, if it will

help you," says Mr. Franklin, with a certain pleasure in showing how

clear-headed he could be, which reminded me wonderfully of old times

when he was a boy. "Question the first: Was the Colonel's Diamond the

object of a conspiracy in India? Question the second: Has the conspiracy

followed the Colonel's Diamond to England? Question the third: Did the

Colonel know the conspiracy followed the Diamond; and has he purposely

left a legacy of trouble and danger to his sister, through the innocent

medium of his sister's child? THAT is what I am driving at, Betteredge.

Don't let me frighten you."

It was all very well to say that, but he HAD frightened me.

If he was right, here was our quiet English house suddenly invaded by

a devilish Indian Diamond--bringing after it a conspiracy of living

rogues, set loose on us by the vengeance of a dead man. There was our

situation as revealed to me in Mr. Franklin's last words! Who ever heard

the like of it--in the nineteenth century, mind; in an age of progress,

and in a country which rejoices in the blessings of the British

constitution? Nobody ever heard the like of it, and, consequently,

nobody can be expected to believe it. I shall go on with my story,

however, in spite of that.

When you get a sudden alarm, of the sort that I had got now, nine times

out of ten the place you feel it in is your stomach. When you feel it

in your stomach, your attention wanders, and you begin to fidget. I

fidgeted silently in my place on the sand. Mr. Franklin noticed me,

contending with a perturbed stomach or mind--which you please; they mean

the same thing--and, checking himself just as he was starting with his

part of the story, said to me sharply, "What do you want?"