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<h3>CHAPTER XLVIII</h3>
<h3>Lizzie's Condition<br/> </h3>
<p>When such a man as Barrington Erle undertakes to send information to
such a correspondent as Lady Glencora in reference to such a matter
as Lady Eustace's diamonds, he is bound to be full rather than
accurate. We may say, indeed, that perfect accuracy would be
detrimental rather than otherwise, and would tend to disperse that
feeling of mystery which is so gratifying. No suggestion had in truth
been made to Lord George de Bruce Carruthers as to the searching of
his lordship's boxes and desks. That very eminent detective officer,
Mr. Bunfit, had, however, called upon Lord George more than once, and
Lord George had declared very plainly that he did not like it. "If
you'll have the kindness to explain to me what it is you want, I'll
be much obliged to you," Lord George had said to Mr. Bunfit.</p>
<p>"Well, my lord," said Bunfit, "what we want is these diamonds."</p>
<p>"Do you believe that I've got them?"</p>
<p>"A man in my situation, my lord, never believes anything. We has to
suspect, but we never believes."</p>
<p>"You suspect that I stole them?"</p>
<p>"No, my lord;—I didn't say that. But things are very queer; aren't
they?" The immediate object of Mr. Bunfit's visit on this morning had
been to ascertain from Lord George whether it was true that his
lordship had been with Messrs. Harter and Benjamin, the jewellers, on
the morning after his arrival in town. No one from the police had as
yet seen either Harter or Benjamin in connexion with this robbery;
but it may not be too much to say that the argus eyes of Major
Mackintosh were upon Messrs. Harter and Benjamin's whole
establishment, and it was believed that, if the jewels were in
London, they were locked up in some box within that house. It was
thought more than probable by Major Mackintosh and his myrmidons that
the jewels were already at Hamburg; and by this time, as the major
had explained to Mr. Camperdown, every one of them might have been
reset,—or even recut. But it was known that Lord George had been at
the house of Messrs. Harter and Benjamin early on the morning after
his return to town, and the ingenuous Mr. Bunfit, who, by reason of
his situation, never believed anything and only suspected, had
expressed a very strong opinion to Major Mackintosh that the necklace
had in truth been transferred to the Jews on that morning. That there
was nothing "too hot or too heavy" for Messrs. Harter and Benjamin
was quite a creed with the police of the west end of London. Might it
not be well to ask Lord George what he had to say about the visit?
Should Lord George deny the visit, such denial would go far to
confirm Mr. Bunfit. The question was asked, and Lord George did not
deny the visit. "Unfortunately, they hold acceptances of mine," said
Lord George, "and I am often there." "We know as they have your
lordship's name to paper," said Mr. Bunfit,—thanking Lord George,
however, for his courtesy. It may be understood that all this would
be unpleasant to Lord George, and that he should be indignant almost
to madness.</p>
<p>But Mr. Erle's information, though certainly defective in regard to
Lord George de Bruce Carruthers, had been more correct when he spoke
of the lady. An interview that was very terrible to poor Lizzie did
take place between her and Mr. Bunfit in Mrs. Carbuncle's house on
Tuesday, the 30th of January. There had been many interviews between
Lizzie and various members of the police force in reference to the
diamonds, but the questions put to her had always been asked on the
supposition that she might have mislaid the necklace. Was it not
possible that she might have thought that she locked it up, but have
omitted to place it in the box? As long as these questions had
reference to a possible oversight in Scotland,—to some carelessness
which she might have committed on the night before she left her
home,—Lizzie upon the whole seemed rather to like the idea. It
certainly was possible. She believed thoroughly that the diamonds had
been locked by her in the box,—but she acknowledged that it might be
the case that they had been left on one side. This had happened when
the police first began to suspect that the necklace had not been in
the box when it was carried out of the Carlisle hotel, but before it
had occurred to them that Lord George had been concerned in the
robbery, and possibly Lady Eustace herself. Men had been sent down
from London, of course at considerable expense, and Portray Castle
had been searched, with the consent of its owner, from the
weathercock to the foundation-stone,—much to the consternation of
Miss Macnulty, and to the delight of Andy Gowran. No trace of the
diamonds was found, and Lizzie had so far fraternised with the
police. But when Mr. Bunfit called upon her, perhaps for the fifth or
sixth time, and suggested that he should be allowed, with the
assistance of the female whom he had left behind him in the hall, to
search all her ladyship's boxes, drawers, presses, and receptacles in
London, the thing took a very different aspect. "You see, my lady,"
said Mr. Bunfit, excusing the peculiar nature of his request, "it may
have got anywhere among your ladyship's things, unbeknownst." Lady
Eustace and Mrs. Carbuncle were at the time sitting together, and
Mrs. Carbuncle was the first to protest. If Mr. Bunfit thought that
he was going to search her things, Mr. Bunfit was very much mistaken.
What she had suffered about this necklace no man or woman knew,—and
she meant that there should be an end of it. It was her opinion that
the police should have discovered every stone of it days and days
ago. At any rate, her house was her own, and she gave Mr. Bunfit to
understand that his repeated visits were not agreeable to her. But
when Mr. Bunfit, without showing the slightest displeasure at the
evil things said of him, suggested that the search should be confined
to the rooms used exclusively by Lady Eustace, Mrs. Carbuncle
absolutely changed her views, and recommended that he should be
allowed to have his way.</p>
<p>At that moment the condition of poor Lizzie Eustace was very sad. He
who recounts these details has scorned to have a secret between
himself and his readers. The diamonds were at this moment locked up
within Lizzie's desk. For the last three weeks they had been
there,—if it may not be more truly said that they were lying heavily
on her heart. For three weeks had her mind with constant stretch been
working on that point,—whither should she take the diamonds, and
what should she do with them? A certain very wonderful strength she
did possess, or she could not have endured the weight of so terrible
an anxiety; but from day to day the thing became worse and worse with
her, as gradually she perceived that suspicion was attached to
herself. Should she confide the secret to Lord George, or to Mrs.
Carbuncle, or to Frank Greystock? She thought she could have borne it
all if only some one would have borne it with her. But when the
moments came in which such confidence might be made, her courage
failed her. Lord George she saw frequently; but he was unsympathetic
and almost rough with her. She knew that he also was suspected, and
she was almost disposed to think that he had planned the robbery. If
it were so, if the robbery had been his handiwork, it was not
singular that he should be unsympathetic with the owner and probable
holder of the prey which he had missed. Nevertheless Lizzie thought
that if he would have been soft with her, like a dear, good, genuine
Corsair, for half an hour, she would have told him all, and placed
the necklace in his hands. And there were moments in which she almost
resolved to tell her secret to Mrs. Carbuncle. She had stolen
nothing;—so she averred to herself. She had intended only to defend
and save her own property. Even the lie that she had told, and the
telling of which was continued from day to day, had in a measure been
forced upon her by circumstances. She thought that Mrs. Carbuncle
would sympathise with her in that feeling which had prevented her
from speaking the truth when first the fact of the robbery was made
known to herself in her own bedroom. Mrs. Carbuncle was a lady who
told many lies, as Lizzie knew well,—and surely could not be
horrified at a lie told in such circumstances. But it was not in
Lizzie's nature to trust a woman. Mrs. Carbuncle would tell Lord
George,—and that would destroy everything. When she thought of
confiding everything to her cousin, it was always in his absence. The
idea became dreadful to her as soon as he was present. She could not
dare to own to him that she had sworn falsely to the magistrate at
Carlisle. And so the burthen had to be borne, increasing every hour
in weight, and the poor creature's back was not broad enough to bear
it. She thought of the necklace every waking minute, and dreamed of
it when she slept. She could not keep herself from unlocking her desk
and looking at it twenty times a day, although she knew the peril of
such nervous solicitude. If she could only rid herself of it
altogether, she was sure now that she would do so. She would throw it
into the ocean fathoms deep, if only she could find herself alone
upon the ocean. But she felt that, let her go where she might, she
would be watched. She might declare to-morrow her intention of going
to Ireland,—or, for that matter, to America. But, were she to do so,
some horrid policeman would be on her track. The iron box had been a
terrible nuisance to her;—but the iron box had been as nothing
compared to the necklace locked up in her desk. From day to day she
meditated a plan of taking the thing out into the streets, and
dropping it in the dark; but she was sure that, were she to do so,
some one would have watched her while she dropped it. She was
unwilling to trust her old friend Mr. Benjamin; but in these days her
favourite scheme was to offer the diamonds for sale to him at some
very low price. 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?</p>
<p>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 some
one. 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
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