One of the wise ancients is reported (I forget on what occasion) as
having recommended his fellow-creatures to "look to the end." Looking to
the end of these pages of mine, and wondering for some days past how I
should manage to write it, I find my plain statement of facts coming to
a conclusion, most appropriately, of its own self. We have gone on, in
this matter of the Moonstone, from one marvel to another; and here we end
with the greatest marvel of all--namely, the accomplishment of Sergeant
Cuff's three predictions in less than a week from the time when he had
made them.
After hearing from the Yollands on the Monday, I had now heard of the
Indians, and heard of the money-lender, in the news from London--Miss
Rachel herself remember, being also in London at the time. You see, I
put things at their worst, even when they tell dead against my own view.
If you desert me, and side with the Sergeant, on the evidence before
you--if the only rational explanation you can see is, that Miss Rachel
and Mr. Luker must have got together, and that the Moonstone must be
now in pledge in the money-lender's house--I own, I can't blame you for
arriving at that conclusion. In the dark, I have brought you thus far.
In the dark I am compelled to leave you, with my best respects.
Why compelled? it may be asked. Why not take the persons who have gone
along with me, so far, up into those regions of superior enlightenment
in which I sit myself?
In answer to this, I can only state that I am acting under orders,
and that those orders have been given to me (as I understand) in the
interests of truth. I am forbidden to tell more in this narrative than
I knew myself at the time. Or, to put it plainer, I am to keep strictly
within the limits of my own experience, and am not to inform you of what
other persons told me--for the very sufficient reason that you are to
have the information from those other persons themselves, at first hand.
In this matter of the Moonstone the plan is, not to present reports, but
to produce witnesses. I picture to myself a member of the family reading
these pages fifty years hence. Lord! what a compliment he will feel
it, to be asked to take nothing on hear-say, and to be treated in all
respects like a Judge on the bench.
At this place, then, we part--for the present, at least--after long
journeying together, with a companionable feeling, I hope, on both
sides. The devil's dance of the Indian Diamond has threaded its way
to London; and to London you must go after it, leaving me at the
country-house. Please to excuse the faults of this composition--my
talking so much of myself, and being too familiar, I am afraid, with
you. I mean no harm; and I drink most respectfully (having just done
dinner) to your health and prosperity, in a tankard of her ladyship's
ale. May you find in these leaves of my writing, what ROBINSON CRUSOE
found in his experience on the desert island--namely, "something to
comfort yourselves from, and to set in the Description of Good and Evil,
on the Credit Side of the Account."--Farewell.