The Eustace Diamonds

paying for their services, when he was⁠—according to the Bunfit theory⁠—able to get at the diamonds without any such trouble, danger, and expenditure? There was a young detective in the force, very clever⁠—almost too clever, and certainly a little too fast⁠—Gager by name, who declared that the Bunfit theory “warn’t on the cards.” According to Gager’s information, Smiler was at this moment a brokenhearted man⁠—ranging between mad indignation and suicidal despondency, because he had been treated with treachery in some direction. Mr. Gager was as fully convinced as Bunfit that the diamonds had not been in the box. There was bitter, raging, heartbreaking disappointment about the diamonds in more quarters than one. That there had been a double robbery Gager was quite sure;⁠—or rather a robbery in which two sets of thieves had been concerned, and in which one set had been duped by the other set. In this affair Mr. Smiler and poor little Billy Cann had been the dupes. So far Gager’s mind had arrived at certainty. But then how had they been duped, and who had duped them? And who had employed them? Such a robbery would hardly have been arranged and executed except on commission. Even Mr. Smiler would not have burdened himself with such diamonds without knowing what to do with them, and what he should get for them. That they were intended ultimately for the hands of Messrs. Harter and Benjamin, Gager almost believed. And Gager was inclined to think that Messrs. Harter and Benjamin⁠—or rather Mr. Benjamin, for Mr. Harter himself was almost too old for work requiring so very great mental activity⁠—that Mr. Benjamin, fearing the honesty of his executive officer Mr. Smiler, had been splendidly treacherous to his subordinate. Gager had not quite completed his theory; but he was very firm on one great point⁠—that the thieves at Carlisle had been genuine thieves, thinking that they were stealing the diamonds, and finding their mistake out when the box had been opened by them under the bridge. “Who have ’em, then?” asked Bunfit of his younger brother, in a disparaging whisper.

“Well; yes; who ’ave ’em? It’s easy to say, who ’ave ’em? Suppose ’e ’ave ’em.” The “he” alluded to by Gager was Lord George de Bruce Carruthers. “But laws, Bunfit, they’re gone⁠—weeks ago. You know that, Bunfit.” This had occurred before the intended search among poor Lizzie’s boxes, but Bunfit’s theory had not been shaken. Bunfit could see all round his own theory. It was whole, and the motives as well as the operations of the persons concerned were explained by it. But the Gager theory only went to show what had not been done, and offered no explanation of the accomplished scheme. Then Bunfit went a little further in his theory, not disdaining to accept something from Gager. Perhaps Lord George had engaged these men, and had afterwards found it practicable to get the diamonds without their assistance. On one great point all concerned in the inquiry were in unison⁠—that the diamonds had not been in the box when it was carried out of the bedroom at Carlisle. The great point of difference consisted in this, that whereas Gager was sure that the robbery when committed had been genuine, Bunfit was of opinion that the box had been first opened, and then taken out of the hotel in order that the police might be put on a wrong track.

The matter was becoming very important. Two or three of the leading newspapers had first hinted at and then openly condemned the incompetence and slowness of the police. Such censure, as we all know, is very common, and in nine cases out of ten it is unjust. They who write it probably know but little of the circumstances;⁠—and, in speaking of a failure here and a failure there, make no reference to the numerous successes, which are so customary as to partake of the nature of routine. It is the same in regard to all public matters⁠—army matters, navy matters, poor-law matters, and post-office matters. Day after day, and almost every day, one meets censure which is felt to be unjust;⁠—but the general result of all this injustice is increased efficiency. The coach does go the faster because of the whip in the coachman’s hand, though the horses driven may never have deserved the thong. In this matter of the Eustace diamonds the police had been very active; but they had been unsuccessful, and had consequently been abused. The robbery was now more than three weeks old. Property to the amount of ten thousand pounds had been abstracted, and as yet the police had not even formed an assured opinion on the subject! Had the same thing occurred in New York or Paris every diamond would by this time have been traced. Such were the assertions made, and the police were instigated to new exertions. Bunfit would have jeopardised his right hand, and Gager his life, to get at the secret. Even Major Mackintosh was anxious.

The facts of the claim made by Mr. Camperdown, and of the bill which had been filed in Chancery for the recovery of the diamonds, were of course widely known, and added much to the general interest and complexity. It was averred that Mr. Camperdown’s determination to get the diamonds had been very energetic, and Lady Eustace’s determination to keep them equally so. Wonderful stories were told of Lizzie’s courage, energy, and resolution. There was hardly a lawyer of repute but took up the question, and had an opinion as to Lizzie’s right to the necklace. The Attorney and Solicitor-General were dead against her, asserting that the diamonds certainly did not pass to her under the will, and could not have become hers by gift. But they were members of a Liberal government, and of course anti-Lizzieite. Gentlemen who were equal to them in learning, who had held offices equally high, were distinctly of a different opinion. Lady Eustace might probably claim the jewels as