The Moonstone

"I only got back from Ireland last night," said the Sergeant, coming

round to the practical object of his visit, in his own impenetrable

manner. "Before I went to bed, I read your letter, telling me what has

happened since my inquiry after the Diamond was suspended last year.

There's only one thing to be said about the matter on my side. I

completely mistook my case. How any man living was to have seen things

in their true light, in such a situation as mine was at the time, I

don't profess to know. But that doesn't alter the facts as they stand.

I own that I made a mess of it. Not the first mess, Mr. Blake, which

has distinguished my professional career! It's only in books that the

officers of the detective force are superior to the weakness of making a

mistake."

"You have come in the nick of time to recover your reputation," I said.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Blake," rejoined the Sergeant. "Now I have

retired from business, I don't care a straw about my reputation. I

have done with my reputation, thank God! I am here, sir, in grateful

remembrance of the late Lady Verinder's liberality to me. I will go

back to my old work--if you want me, and if you will trust me--on that

consideration, and on no other. Not a farthing of money is to pass, if

you please, from you to me. This is on honour. Now tell me, Mr. Blake,

how the case stands since you wrote to me last."

I told him of the experiment with the opium, and of what had occurred

afterwards at the bank in Lombard Street. He was greatly struck by the

experiment--it was something entirely new in his experience. And he was

particularly interested in the theory of Ezra Jennings, relating to what

I had done with the Diamond, after I had left Rachel's sitting-room, on

the birthday night.

"I don't hold with Mr. Jennings that you hid the Moonstone," said

Sergeant Cuff. "But I agree with him, that you must certainly have taken

it back to your own room."

"Well?" I asked. "And what happened then?"

"Have you no suspicion yourself of what happened, sir?"

"None whatever."

"Has Mr. Bruff no suspicion?"

"No more than I have."

Sergeant Cuff rose, and went to my writing-table. He came back with a

sealed envelope. It was marked "Private;" it was addressed to me; and it

had the Sergeant's signature in the corner.