`I am sorry to say, sir,' replied the man, `that I have made a mistake. I could have taken my oath that I saw Mr. Luker pass something to an elderly gentleman, in a light-coloured paletot. The elderly gentleman turns out, sir, to be a most respectable master ironmonger in Eastcheap.'

`Where is Gooseberry?' asked Mr. Bruff resignedly.

The man stared. `I don't know, sir. I have seen nothing of him since I left the bank.'

Mr. Bruff dismissed the man. `One of two things,' he said to me. `Either Gooseberry has run away, or he is hunting on his own account. What do you say to dining here, on the chance that the boy may come back in an hour or two? I have got some good wine in the cellar, and we can get a chop from the coffee-house.'

We dined at Mr. Bruff's chambers. Before the cloth was removed, `a person' was announced as wanting to speak to the lawyer. Was the person Gooseberry? No: only the man who had been employed to follow Mr. Luker when he left the bank.

The report, in this case, presented no feature of the slightest interest. Mr. Luker had gone back to his own house, and had there dismissed his guard. He had not gone out again afterwards. Towards dusk, the shutters had been put up, and the doors had been bolted. The street before the house, and the alley behind the house, had been carefully watched. No signs of the Indians had been visible. No person whatever had been seen loitering about the premises. Having stated these facts, the man waited to know whether there were any further orders. Mr. Bruff dismissed him for the night.

`Do you think Mr. Luker has taken the Moonstone home with him?' I asked.

`Not he,' said Mr. Bruff. `He would never have dismissed his two policemen, if he had run the risk of keeping the Diamond in his own house again.'

We waited another half-hour for the boy, and waited in vain. It was then time for Mr. Bruff to go to Hampstead, and for me to return to Rachel in Portland Place. I left my card, in charge of the porter at the chambers, with a line written on it to say that I should be at my lodgings at half-past ten, that night. The card was to be given to the boy, if the boy came back.

Some men have a knack of keeping appointments; and other men have a knack of missing them. I am one of the other men. Add to this, that I passed the evening at Portland Place, on the same seat with Rachel, in a room forty feet long, with Mrs. Merridew at the farther end of it. Does anybody wonder that I got home at half-past twelve instead of half-past ten? How thoroughly heartless that person must be! And how earnestly I hope I may never make that person's acquaintance!

My servant handed me a morsel of paper when he let me in. I read in a neat legal handwriting, these words:-- `If you please, sir, I am getting sleepy. I will come back to-morrow morning, between nine and ten.' Inquiry proved that a boy, with very extraordinary-looking eyes, had called, and presented my card and message, had waited an hour, had done nothing but fall asleep and wake up again, had written a line for me, and had gone home--after gravely informing the servant that `he was fit for nothing unless he got his night's rest.'

At nine, the next morning, I was ready for my visitor. At half-past nine, I heard steps outside my door. `Come in, Gooseberry!' I called out. `Thank you, sir,` answered a grave and melancholy voice. The door opened. I started to my feet, and confronted--Sergeant Cuff.

`I thought I would look in here, Mr. Blake, on the chance of your being in town, before I wrote to Yorkshire,' said the Sergeant.