Sergeant Cuff led the way to the bed, without answering, and removed the pillow.
The man's swarthy face was placid and still; his black hair and beard were slightly, very slightly, discomposed.His eyes stared wide-open, glassy and vacant, at the ceiling.The filmy look and the fixed expression of them horrified me.I turned away, and went to the open window.The rest of them remained, where Sergeant Cuff remained, at the bed.
`He's in a fit!' I heard the landlord say.
`He's dead,' the Sergeant answered.`Send for the nearest doctor, and send for the police.'
The waiter was dispatched on both errands.Some strange fascination seemed to hold Sergeant Cuff to the bed.Some strange curiosity seemed to keep the rest of them waiting, to see what the Sergeant would do next.
I turned again to the window.The moment afterwards, I felt a soft pull at my coat-tails, and a small voice whispered, `Look here, sir!'
Gooseberry had followed us into the room.His loose eyes rolled frightfully--not in terror, but in exultation.He had made a detective-discovery on his own account.`Look here, sir,' he repeated--and led me to a table in the corner of the room.
On the table stood a little wooden box, open, and empty.On one side of the box lay some jewellers' cotton.On the other side, was a torn sheet of white paper, with a seal on it, partly destroyed, and with an inscription in writing, which was still perfectly legible.The inscription was in these words:
`Deposited with Messrs.Bushe, Lysaught, and Bushe, by Mr.Septimus Luker, of Middlesex Place, Lambeth, a small wooden box, sealed up in this envelope, and containing a valuable of great price.The box, when claimed, to be only given up by Messrs.Bushe and Co.on the personal application of Mr.Luker.'
Those lines removed all further doubt, on one point at least.The sailor had been in possession of the Moonstone, when he had left the bank on the previous day.
I felt another pull at my coat-tails.Gooseberry had not done with me yet.
`Robbery!' whispered the boy, pointing, in high delight, to the empty box.
`You were told to wait downstairs,' I said.`Go away!'
`And Murder!' added Gooseberry, pointing, with a keener relish still, to the man on the bed.
There was something so hideous in the boy's enjoyment of the horror of the scene, that I took him by the two shoulders and put him out of the room.
At the moment when I crossed the threshold of the door, I heard Sergeant Cuff's voice, asking where I was.He met me, as I returned into the room, and forced me to go back with him to the bedside.
`Mr.Blake!' he said.`Look at the man's face.It is a face disguised--and here's a proof of it!'
He traced with his finger a thin line of livid white, running backward from the dead man's forehead, between the swarthy complexion and the slightly disturbed black hair.`Let's see what is under this,' said the Sergeant, suddenly seizing the black hair, with a firm grip of his hand.
My nerves were not strong enough to bear it.I turned away again from the bed.
The first sight that met my eyes, at the other end of the room, was the irrepressible Gooseberry, perched on a chair, and looking with breathless interest, over the heads of his elders, at the Sergeant's proceedings.
`He's pulling off his wig!' whispered Gooseberry, compassionating my position, as the only person in the room who could see nothing.
There was a pause--and then a cry of astonishment among the people round the bed.
`He's pulled off his beard!' cried Gooseberry.
There was another pause--Sergeant Cuff asked for something.The landlord went to the washhand-stand, and returned to the bed with a basin of water and a towel.
Gooseberry danced with excitement on the chair.`Come up here, along with me, sir! He's washing off his complexion now!'
The Sergeant suddenly burst his way through the people about him, and came, with horror in his face, straight to the place where I was standing.
`Come back to the bed, sir!' he began.He looked at me closer, and checked himself.`No!' he resumed.`Open the sealed letter first--the letter Igave you this morning.'
I opened the letter.
`Read the name, Mr.Blake, that I have written inside.'
I read the name that he had written.It was-- Godfrey Ablewhite.
`Now,' said the Sergeant, `come with me, and look at the man on the bed.'
I went with him, and looked at the man on the bed.
G ODFREY A BLEWHITE !
[Next Chapter] [Table of Contents]The Moonstone: Second period, Sixth Narrative[Previous Chapter] [Table of Contents]SIXTH NARRATIVE CONTRIBUTED BY SERGEANT CUFFID ORKING , Surrey, July 30th, 1849.To Franklin Blake, Esq.Sir, -- I beg to apologize for the delay that has occurred in the production of the Report, with which I engaged to furnish you.I have waited to make it a complete Report; and I have been met, here and there, by obstacles which it was only possible to remove by some little expenditure of patience and time.
The object which I proposed to myself has now, I hope, been attained.
You will find, in these pages, answers to the greater part -- if not all -- of the questions, concerning the late Mr.Godfrey Ablewhite, which occurred to your mind when I last had the honour of seeing you.
I propose to tell you -- in the first place -- what is known of the manner in which your cousin met his death; appending to the statement such inferences and conclusions as we are justified (according to my opinion)in drawing from the facts.
I shall then endeavour -- in the second place -- to put you in possession of such discoveries as I have made, respecting the proceedings of Mr.Godfrey Ablewhite, before, during, and after the time, when you and he met as guests at the late Lady Verinder's country house.IIAs to your cousin's death, then, first.
