The Moonstone

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.