The next question, was the question of what Mr. Luker would do in the matter of the Moonstone.  He proposed the following terms, as the only terms on which he would consent to mix himself up with, what was (even in his line of business) a doubtful and dangerous transaction.

Mr. Luker would consent to lend Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite the sum of two thousand pounds, on condition that the Moonstone was to be deposited with him as a pledge.  If, at the expiration of one year from that date, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite paid three thousand pounds to Mr. Luker, he was to receive back the Diamond, as a pledge redeemed.  If he failed to produce the money at the expiration of the year, the pledge (otherwise the Moonstone) was to be considered as forfeited to Mr. Luker—­who would, in this latter case, generously make Mr. Godfrey a present of certain promissory notes of his (relating to former dealings) which were then in the money-lender’s possession.

It is needless to say, that Mr. Godfrey indignantly refused to listen to these monstrous terms.  Mr. Luker thereupon, handed him back the Diamond, and wished him good night.

Your cousin went to the door, and came back again.  How was he to be sure that the conversation of that evening would be kept strictly secret between his friend and himself?

Mr. Luker didn’t profess to know how.  If Mr. Godfrey had accepted his terms, Mr. Godfrey would have made him an accomplice, and might have counted on his silence as on a certainty.  As things were, Mr. Luker must be guided by his own interests.  If awkward inquiries were made, how could be he expected to compromise himself, for the sake of a man who had declined to deal with him?

Receiving this reply, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite did, what all animals (human and otherwise) do, when they find themselves caught in a trap.  He looked about him in a state of helpless despair.  The day of the month, recorded on a neat little card in a box on the money-lender’s chimney-piece, happened to attract his eye.  It was the twenty-third of June.  On the twenty-fourth he had three hundred pounds to pay to the young gentleman for whom he was trustee, and no chance of raising the money, except the chance that Mr. Luker had offered to him.  But for this miserable obstacle, he might have taken the Diamond to Amsterdam, and have made a marketable commodity of it, by having it cut up into separate stones.  As matters stood, he had no choice but to accept Mr. Luker’s terms.  After all, he had a year at his disposal, in which to raise the three thousand pounds—­and a year is a long time.

Mr. Luker drew out the necessary documents on the spot.  When they were signed, he gave Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite two cheques.  One, dated June 23rd, for three hundred pounds.  Another, dated a week on, for the remaining balance seventeen hundred pounds.

How the Moonstone was trusted to the keeping of Mr Luker’s bankers, and how the Indians treated Mr. Luker and Mr. Godfrey (after that had been done) you know already.