The Eustace Diamonds

If he would help her they might surely be got out of their present hiding-place into his hands. Any man would be powerful to help, if there were any man whom she could trust. In furtherance of this scheme she went so far as to break a brooch⁠—a favourite brooch of her own⁠—in order that she might have an excuse for calling at the jewellers’. But even this she postponed from day to day. Circumstances, as they had occurred, had taught her to believe that the police could not insist on breaking open her desk unless some evidence could be brought against her. There was no evidence, and her desk was so far safe. But the same circumstances had made her understand that she was already suspected of some intrigue with reference to the diamonds⁠—though of what she was suspected she did not clearly perceive. As far as she could divine the thoughts of her enemies, they did not seem to suppose that the diamonds were in her possession. It seemed to be believed by those enemies that they had passed into the hands of Lord George. As long as her enemies were on a scent so false, might it not be best that she should remain quiet?

But all the ingenuity, the concentrated force, and trained experience of the police of London would surely be too great and powerful for her in the long run. She could not hope to keep her secret and the diamonds till they should acknowledge themselves to be baffled. And then she was aware of a morbid desire on her own part to tell the secret⁠—of a desire that amounted almost to a disease. It would soon burst her bosom open, unless she could share her knowledge with someone. And yet, as she thought of it all, she told herself that she had no friend so fast and true as to justify such confidence. She was ill with anxiety, and⁠—worse than that⁠—Mrs. Carbuncle knew that she was ill. It was acknowledged between them that this affair of the necklace was so terrible as to make a woman ill. Mrs. Carbuncle at present had been gracious enough to admit so much as that. But might it not be probable that Mrs. Carbuncle would come to suspect that she did not know the whole secret? Mrs. Carbuncle had already, on more than one occasion, said a little word or two which had been unpleasant.

Such was Lizzie’s condition when Mr. Bunfit came, with his authoritative request to be allowed to inspect Lizzie’s boxes⁠—and when Mrs. Carbuncle, having secured her own privacy, expressed her opinion that Mr. Bunfit should be allowed to do as he desired.

XLIX

Bunfit and Gager

As soon as the words were out of Mrs. Carbuncle’s mouth⁠—those ill-natured words in which she expressed her assent to Mr. Bunfit’s proposition that a search should be made after the diamonds among all the possessions of Lady Eustace which were now lodged in her own house⁠—poor Lizzie’s courage deserted her entirely. She had been very courageous; for, though her powers of endurance had sometimes nearly deserted her, though her heart had often failed her, still she had gone on and had endured and been silent. To endure and to be silent in her position did require great courage. She was all alone in her misery, and could see no way out of it. The diamonds were heavy as a load of lead within her bosom. And yet she had persevered. Now, as she heard Mrs. Carbuncle’s words, her courage failed her. There came some obstruction in her throat, so that she could not speak. She felt as though her heart were breaking. She put out both her hands and could not draw them back again. She knew that she was betraying herself by her weakness. She could just hear the man explaining that the search was merely a thing of ceremony⁠—just to satisfy everybody that there was no mistake;⁠—and then she fainted. So far, Barrington Erle was correct in the information given by him to Lady Glencora. She pressed one hand against her heart, gasped for breath, and then fell back upon the sofa. Perhaps she could have done nothing better. Had the fainting been counterfeit, the measure would have shown ability. But the fainting was altogether true. Mrs. Carbuncle first, and then Mr. Bunfit, hurried from their seats to help her. To neither of them did it occur for a moment that the fit was false.

“The whole thing has been too much for her,” said Mrs. Carbuncle severely, ringing the bell at the same time for further aid.

“No doubt⁠—mum; no doubt. We has to see a deal of this sort of thing. Just a little air, if you please, mum⁠—and as much water as’d go to christen a babby. That’s always best, mum.”

“If you’ll have the kindness to stand on one side,” said Mrs. Carbuncle, as she stretched Lizzie on the sofa.

“Certainly, mum,” said Bunfit, standing erect by the wall, but not showing the slightest disposition to leave the room.

“You had better go,” said Mrs. Carbuncle⁠—loudly and very severely.

“I’ll just stay and see her come to, mum. I won’t do her a morsel of harm, mum. Sometimes they faints at the very fust sight of such as we; but we has to bear it. A little more air, if you could, mum;⁠—and just dash the water on in drops like. They feels a drop more than they would a bucketful⁠—and then when they comes to they hasn’t to change theirselves.”

Bunfit’s advice, founded on much experience, was good, and Lizzie gradually came to herself and opened her eyes. She immediately clutched at her breast, feeling for her key. She found it unmoved, but before her finger had recognised the touch, her quick mind had told her how wrong the movement had been. It had been lost upon Mrs. Carbuncle, but not on Mr. Bunfit. He did not at once think that she had the