"The Moonstone, Mr. Franklin. But what brings you now, sir?"
"The Moonstone again, Betteredge."
The old man suddenly stood still, and looked at me in the grey twilight
as if he suspected his own ears of deceiving him.
"If that's a joke, sir," he said, "I'm afraid I'm getting a little dull
in my old age. I don't take it."
"It's no joke," I answered. "I have come here to take up the inquiry
which was dropped when I left England. I have come here to do what
nobody has done yet--to find out who took the Diamond."
"Let the Diamond be, Mr. Franklin! Take my advice, and let the Diamond
be! That cursed Indian jewel has misguided everybody who has come near
it. Don't waste your money and your temper--in the fine spring time
of your life, sir--by meddling with the Moonstone. How can YOU hope to
succeed (saving your presence), when Sergeant Cuff himself made a mess
of it? Sergeant Cuff!" repeated Betteredge, shaking his forefinger at me
sternly. "The greatest policeman in England!"
"My mind is made up, my old friend. Even Sergeant Cuff doesn't daunt me.
By-the-bye, I may want to speak to him, sooner or later. Have you heard
anything of him lately?"
"The Sergeant won't help you, Mr.
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