The Journey to London
When we left Lady Eustace alone in her bedroom at the Carlisle hotel
after the discovery of the robbery, she had very many cares upon her
mind. The necklace was, indeed, safe under her pillow in the bed;
but when all the people were around her,--her own friends, and the
police, and they who were concerned with the inn,--she had not told
them that it was so, but had allowed them to leave her with the
belief that the diamonds had gone with the box. Even at this moment,
as she knew well, steps were being taken to discover the thieves, and
to make public the circumstances of the robbery. Already, no doubt,
the fact that her chamber had been entered in the night, and her
jewel-box withdrawn, was known to the London police officers. In such
circumstances how could she now tell the truth? But it might be that
already had the thieves been taken. In that case would not the truth
be known, even though she should not tell it? Then she thought for a
while that she would get rid of the diamonds altogether, so that no
one should know aught of them. If she could only think of a place fit
for such purpose she would so hide them that no human ingenuity could
discover them. Let the thieves say what they might, her word would,
in such case, be better than that of the thieves. She would declare
that the jewels had been in the box when the box was taken. The
thieves would swear that the box had been empty. She would appeal
to the absence of the diamonds, and the thieves,--who would be
known as thieves,--would be supposed, even by their own friends
and associates, to have disposed of the diamonds before they had
been taken. There would be a mystery in all this, and a cunning
cleverness, the idea of which had in itself a certain charm
for Lizzie Eustace. She would have all the world at a loss. Mr.
Camperdown could do nothing further to harass her; and would have
been, so far, overcome. She would be saved from the feeling of public
defeat in the affair of the necklace, which would be very dreadful
to her. Lord Fawn might probably be again at her feet. And in all
the fuss and rumour which such an affair would make in London, there
would be nothing of which she need be ashamed. She liked the idea,
and she had grown to be very sick of the necklace.
But what should she do with it? It was, at this moment, between her
fingers beneath the pillow. If she were minded,--and she thought she
was so minded,--to get rid of it altogether, the sea would be the
place. Could she make up her mind absolutely to destroy so large
a property, it would be best for her to have recourse to "her own
broad waves," as she called them even to herself. It was within the
"friendly depths of her own rock-girt ocean" that she should find a
grave for her great trouble. But now her back was to the sea, and
she could hardly insist on returning to Portray without exciting a
suspicion that might be fatal to her.
And then might it not be possible to get altogether quit of the
diamonds and yet to retain the power of future possession? She knew
that she was running into debt, and that money would, some day, be
much needed. Her acquaintance with Mr. Benjamin, the jeweller, was
a fact often present to her mind. She might not be able to get ten
thousand pounds from Mr. Benjamin;--but if she could get eight, or
six, or even five, how pleasant would it be! If she could put away
the diamonds for three or four years,--if she could so hide them
that no human eyes could see them till she should again produce them
to the light,--surely, after so long an interval, they might be
made available! But where should be found such hiding-place? She
understood well how great was the peril while the necklace was in
her own immediate keeping. Any accident might discover it, and if
the slightest suspicion were aroused, the police would come upon her
with violence and discover it. But surely there must be some such
hiding-place,--if only she could think of it! Then her mind reverted
to all the stories she had ever heard of mysterious villanies. There
must be some way of accomplishing this thing, if she could only
bring her mind to work upon it exclusively. A hole dug deep into the
ground;--would not that be the place? But then, where should the hole
be dug? In what spot should she trust the earth? If anywhere, it
must be at Portray. But now she was going from Portray to London. It
seemed to her to be certain that she could dig no hole in London that
would be secret to herself. Nor could she trust herself, during the
hour or two that remained to her, to find such a hole in Carlisle.
What she wanted was a friend;--some one that she could trust. But she
had no such friend. She could not dare to give the jewels up to Lord
George. So tempted, would not any Corsair appropriate the treasure?
And if, as might be possible, she were mistaken about him and he was
no Corsair, then would he betray her to the police? She thought of
all her dearest friends,--Frank Greystock, Mrs. Carbuncle, Lucinda,
Miss Macnulty,--even of Patience Crabstick,--but there was no friend
whom she could trust. Whatever she did she must do alone! She began
to fear that the load of thought required would be more than she
could bear. One thing, however, was certain to her;--she could not
now venture to tell them all that the necklace was in her possession,
and that the stolen box had been empty.
Thinking of all this, she went to sleep,--still holding the packet
tight between her fingers,--and in this position was awakened at
about ten by a knock at the door from her friend Mrs. Carbuncle.
Lizzie jumped out of bed, and admitted her friend, admitting also
Patience Crabstick. "You had better get up now, dear," said Mrs.
Carbuncle. "We are all going to breakfast." Lizzie declared herself
to be so fluttered, that she must have her breakfast up-stairs. No
one was to wait for her. Crabstick would go down and fetch for her
a cup of tea,--and just a morsel of something to eat. "You can't be
surprised that I shouldn't be quite myself," said Lizzie.
Mrs. Carbuncle's surprise did not run at all in that direction. Both
Mrs. Carbuncle and Lord George had been astonished to find how well
she bore her loss. Lord George gave her credit for real bravery. Mrs.
Carbuncle suggested, in a whisper, that perhaps she regarded the
theft as an easy way out of a lawsuit. "I suppose you know, George,
they would have got it from her." Then Lord George whistled, and, in
another whisper, declared that, if the little adventure had all been
arranged by Lady Eustace herself with the view of getting the better
of Mr. Camperdown, his respect for that lady would be very greatly
raised. "If," said Lord George, "it turns out that she has had a
couple of bravos in her pay, like an old Italian marquis, I shall
think very highly of her indeed." This had occurred before Mrs.
Carbuncle came up to Lizzie's room;--but neither of them for a moment
suspected that the necklace was still within the hotel.
The box had been found, and a portion of the fragments were brought
into the room while the party were still at breakfast. Lizzie was not
in the room, but the news was at once taken up to her by Crabstick,
together with a pheasant's wing and some buttered toast. In a recess
beneath an archway running under the railroad, not distant from the
hotel above a hundred and fifty yards, the iron box had been found.
It had been forced open, so said the sergeant of police, with tools
of the finest steel, peculiarly made for such purpose. The sergeant
of police was quite sure that the thing had been done by London men
who were at the very top of their trade. It was manifest that nothing
had been spared. Every motion of the party must have been known to
them, and probably one of the adventurers had travelled in the same
train with them. And the very doors of the bedroom in the hotel had
been measured by the man who had cut out the bolt. The sergeant of
police was almost lost in admiration;--but the superintendent of
police, whom Lord George saw more than once, was discreet and silent.
To the superintendent of police it was by no means sure that Lord
George himself might not be fond of diamonds. Of a suspicion flying
so delightfully high as this, he breathed no word to any one; but
simply suggested that he should like to retain the companionship of
one of the party. If Lady Eustace could dispense with the services of
the tall footman, the tall footman might be found useful at Carlisle.
It was arranged, therefore, that the tall footman should remain;--and
the tall footman did remain, though not with his own consent.
The whole party, including Lady Eustace herself and Patience
Crabstick, were called upon to give their evidence to the Carlisle
magistrates before they could proceed to London. This Lizzie did,
having the necklace at that moment locked up in her desk at the inn.
The diamonds were supposed to be worth ten thousand pounds. There
was to be a lawsuit about them. She did not for a moment doubt that
they were her property. She had been very careful about the diamonds
because of the lawsuit. Fearing that Mr. Camperdown might wrest them
from her possession, she had caused the iron box to be made. She
had last seen the diamonds on the evening before her departure from
Portray. She had then herself locked them up, and she now produced
the key. The lock was still so far uninjured that the key would turn
it. That was her evidence. Crabstick, with a good deal of reticence,
supported her mistress. She had seen the diamonds, no doubt, but had
not seen them often. She had seen them down at Portray, but not for
ever so long. Crabstick had very little to say about them; but the
clever superintendent was by no means sure that Crabstick did not
know more than she said. Mrs. Carbuncle and Lord George had also
seen the diamonds at Portray. There was no doubt whatever as to the
diamonds having been in the iron box;--nor was there, said Lord
George, any doubt but that this special necklace had acquired so much
public notice from the fact of the threatened lawsuit, as might make
its circumstances and value known to London thieves. The tall footman
was not examined, but was detained by the police under a remand given
by the magistrates.
Much information as to what had been done oozed out in spite of the
precautions of the discreet superintendent. The wires had been put
into operation in every direction, and it had been discovered that
one man whom nobody knew had left the down mail train at Annan, and
another at Dumfries. These men had taken tickets by the train leaving
Carlisle between four and five a.m., and were supposed to have been
the two thieves. It had been nearly seven before the theft had been
discovered, and by that time not only had the men reached the towns
named, but had had time to make their way back again or farther on
into Scotland. At any rate, for the present, all trace of them was
lost. The sergeant of police did not doubt but that one of these men
was making his way up to London with the necklace in his pocket. This
was told to Lizzie by Lord George; and though she was awe-struck
by the danger of her situation, she nevertheless did feel some
satisfaction in remembering that she and she only held the key of the
mystery. And then as to those poor thieves! What must have been their
consternation when they found, after all the labour and perils of the
night, that the box contained no diamonds,--that the treasure was not
there, and that they were nevertheless bound to save themselves by
flight and stratagem from the hands of the police! Lizzie, as she
thought of this, almost pitied the poor thieves. What a consternation
there would be among the Camperdowns and Garnetts, among the Mopuses
and Benjamins, when the news was heard in London! Lizzie almost
enjoyed it. As her mind went on making fresh schemes on the subject,
a morbid desire of increasing the mystery took possession of her.
She was quite sure that nobody knew her secret, and that nobody as
yet could even guess it. There was great danger, but there might be
delight and even profit if she could safely dispose of the jewels
before suspicion against herself should be aroused. She could
understand that a rumour should get to the police that the box had
been empty, even if the thieves were not taken;--but such rumour
would avail nothing if she could only dispose of the diamonds. As
she first thought of all this, the only plan hitherto suggested to
herself would require her immediate return to Portray. If she were at
Portray she could find a spot in which she could bury the necklace.
But she was obliged to allow herself now to be hurried up to London.
When she got into the train the little parcel was in her desk, and
the key of her desk was fastened round her neck.
They had secured a compartment for themselves from Carlisle to
London, and of course filled four seats. "As I am alive," said
Lord George as soon as the train had left the station, "that head
policeman thinks that I am the thief!" Mrs. Carbuncle laughed.
Lizzie protested that this was absurd. Lucinda declared that such
a suspicion would be vastly amusing. "It's a fact," continued Lord
George. "I can see it in the fellow's eye, and I feel it to be a
compliment. They are so very 'cute that they delight in suspicions.
I remember, when the altar-plate was stolen from Barchester Cathedral
some years ago, a splendid idea occurred to one of the police, that
the Bishop had taken it!"
"Really?" asked Lizzie.
"Oh, yes;--really. I don't doubt but that there is already a belief
in some of their minds that you have stolen your own diamonds for the
sake of getting the better of Mr. Camperdown."
"But what could I do with them if I had?" asked Lizzie.
"Sell them, of course. There is always a market for such goods."
"But who would buy them?"
"If you have been so clever, Lady Eustace, I'll find a purchaser for
them. One would have to go a good distance to do it,--and there would
be some expense. But the thing could be done. Vienna, I should think,
would be about the place."
"Very well, then," said Lizzie. "You won't be surprised if I ask you
to take the journey for me." Then they all laughed, and were very
much amused. It was quite agreed among them that Lizzie bore her loss
very well.
"I shouldn't care the least for losing them," said Lizzie,--"only
that Florian gave them to me. They have been such a vexation to me
that to be without them will be a comfort." Her desk had been brought
into the carriage and was now used as a foot-stool in place of the
box which was gone.
They arrived at Mrs. Carbuncle's house in Hertford Street quite
late, between ten and eleven;--but a note had been sent from Lizzie
to her cousin Frank's address from the Euston Square station by a
commissionaire. Indeed, two notes were sent,--one to the House of
Commons, and the other to the Grosvenor Hotel. "My necklace has been
stolen. Come to me early to-morrow at Mrs. Carbuncle's house, No. --,
Hertford Street." And he did come,--before Lizzie was up. Crabstick
brought her mistress word that Mr. Greystock was in the parlour soon
after nine o'clock. Lizzie again hurried on her clothes so that she
might see her cousin, taking care as she did so that though her
toilet might betray haste, it should not be other than charming. And
as she dressed she endeavoured to come to some conclusion. Would it
not be best for her that she should tell everything to her cousin,
and throw herself upon his mercy, trusting to his ingenuity to
extricate her from her difficulties? She had been thinking of her
position almost through the entire night, and had remembered that at
Carlisle she had committed perjury. She had sworn that the diamonds
had been left by her in the box. And should they be found with her it
might be that they would put her in gaol for stealing them. Little
mercy could she expect from Mr. Camperdown should she fall into
that gentleman's hands! But Frank, if she would even yet tell him
everything honestly, might probably save her.
"What is this about the diamonds?" he asked as soon as he saw her.
She had flown almost into his arms as though carried there by the
excitement of the moment. "You don't really mean that they have been
stolen?"
"I do, Frank."
"On the journey?"
"Yes, Frank;--at the inn at Carlisle."
"Box and all?" Then she told him the whole story;--not the true
story, but the story as it was believed by all the world. She found
it to be impossible to tell him the true story. "And the box was
broken open, and left in the street?"
"Under an archway," said Lizzie.
"And what do the police think?"
"I don't know what they think. Lord George says that they believe he
is the thief."
"He knew of them," said Frank, as though he imagined that the
suggestion was not altogether absurd.
"Oh, yes;--he knew of them."
"And what is to be done?"
"I don't know. I've sent for you to tell me." Then Frank averred that
information should be immediately given to Mr. Camperdown. He would
himself call on Mr. Camperdown, and would also see the head of the
London police. He did not doubt but that all the circumstances were
already known in London at the police office;--but it might be well
that he should see the officer. He was acquainted with the gentleman,
and might perhaps learn something. Lizzie at once acceded, and Frank
went direct to Mr. Camperdown's offices. "If I had lost ten thousand
pounds in that way," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "I think I should have
broken my heart." Lizzie felt that her heart was bursting rather than
being broken, because the ten thousand pounds' worth of diamonds was
not really lost.