I looked at the card. There was a foreign name written on it, which has
escaped my memory. It was followed by a line written in English at the
bottom of the card, which I remember perfectly well:
"Recommended by Mr. Septimus Luker."
The audacity of a person in Mr. Luker's position presuming to recommend
anybody to me, took me so completely by surprise, that I sat silent
for the moment, wondering whether my own eyes had not deceived me. The
clerk, observing my bewilderment, favoured me with the result of his own
observation of the stranger who was waiting downstairs.
"He is rather a remarkable-looking man, sir. So dark in the complexion
that we all set him down in the office for an Indian, or something of
that sort."
Associating the clerk's idea with the line inscribed on the card in my
hand, I thought it possible that the Moonstone might be at the bottom of
Mr. Luker's recommendation, and of the stranger's visit at my office. To
the astonishment of my clerk, I at once decided on granting an interview
to the gentleman below.
In justification of the highly unprofessional sacrifice to mere
curiosity which I thus made, permit me to remind anybody who may read
these lines, that no living person (in England, at any rate) can claim
to have had such an intimate connexion with the romance of the Indian
Diamond as mine has been.
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