Frank Greystock in these days took up his cousin’s part altogether in good faith. He entertained not the slightest suspicion that she was deceiving him in regard to the diamonds. That the robbery had been a bona-fide robbery, and that Lizzie had lost her treasure, was to him beyond doubt. He had gradually convinced himself that Mr. Camperdown was wrong in his claim, and was strongly of opinion that Lord Fawn had disgraced himself by his conduct to the lady. When he now heard, as he did hear, that some undefined suspicion was attached to his cousin—and when he heard also, as unfortunately he did hear—that Lord Fawn had encouraged that suspicion, he was very irate, and said grievous things of Lord Fawn. It seemed to him to be the extremity of cruelty that suspicion should be attached to his cousin because she had been robbed of her jewels. He was among those who were most severe in their denunciation of the police—and was the more so, because he had heard it asserted that the necklace had not in truth been stolen. He busied himself very much in the matter, and even interrogated John Eustace as to his intentions. “My dear fellow,” said Eustace, “if you hated those diamonds as much as I do, you would never mention them again.” Greystock declared that this expression of aversion to the subject might be all very well for Mr. Eustace, but that he found himself bound to defend his cousin. “You cannot defend her against me,” said Eustace, “for I do not attack her. I have never said a word against her. I went down to Portray when she asked me. As far as I am concerned she is perfectly welcome to wear the necklace, if she can get it back again. I will not make or meddle in the matter one way or the other.” Frank, after that, went to Mr. Camperdown, but he could get no satisfaction from the attorney. Mr. Camperdown would only say that he had a duty to do, and that he must do it. On the matter of the robbery he refused to give an opinion. That was in the hands of the police. Should the diamonds be recovered, he would, of course, claim them on behalf of the estate. In his opinion, whether the diamonds were recovered or not, Lady Eustace was responsible to the estate for their value. In opposition, first to the entreaties, and then to the demands of her late husband’s family, she had insisted on absurdly carrying about with her an enormous amount of property which did not belong to her. Mr. Camperdown opined that she must pay for the lost diamonds out of her jointure. Frank, in a huff, declared that, as far as he could see, the diamonds belonged to his cousin;—in answer to which Mr. Camperdown suggested that the question was one for the decision of the Vice-Chancellor. Frank Greystock found that he could do nothing with Mr. Camperdown, and felt that he could wreak his vengeance only on Lord Fawn.
Bunfit, when he returned from Mrs. Carbuncle’s house to Scotland Yard, had an interview with Major Mackintosh. “Well, Bunfit, have you seen the lady?”
“Yes—I did see her, sir.”
“And what came of it?”
“She fainted away, sir—just as they always do.”
“There was no search, I suppose?”
“No, sir;—no search. She wouldn’t have it, unless her cousin, Mr. Greystock, permitted.”
“I didn’t think she would.”
“Nor yet didn’t I, sir. But I’ll tell you what it is, major. She knows all about it.”
“You think she does, Bunfit?”
“She does, sir; and she’s got something locked up somewhere in that house as’d elucidate the whole of this aggravating mystery, if only we could get at it. Major, ⸻”
“Well, Bunfit?”
“I ain’t noways sure as she ain’t got them very diamonds themselves locked up, or, perhaps, tied round her person.”
“Neither am I sure that she has not,” said the major.
“The robbery at Carlisle was no robbery,” continued Bunfit. “It was a got-up plant, and about the best as I ever knowed. It’s my mind that it was a got-up plant between her ladyship and his lordship; and either the one or the other is just keeping the diamonds till it’s safe to take ’em into the market.”
L
In Hertford Street
During all this time Lucinda Roanoke was engaged to marry Sir Griffin Tewett, and the lover was an occasional visitor in Hertford Street. Mrs. Carbuncle was as anxious as ever that the marriage should be celebrated on the appointed day, and though there had been repeated quarrels, nothing had as yet taken place to make her despond. Sir Griffin would make some offensive speech; Lucinda would tell him that she had no desire ever to see him again; and then the baronet, usually under the instigation of Lord George, would make some awkward apology. Mrs. Carbuncle—whose life at this period was not a pleasant one—would behave on such occasions with great patience, and sometimes with great courage. Lizzie, who in her present emergency could not bear the idea of losing the assistance of any friend, was soft and graceful, and even gracious, to the bear. The bear himself certainly seemed to desire the marriage, though he would so often give offence which made any prospect of a marriage almost impossible. But with Sir Griffin, when the prize seemed to be
