Godfrey. If you are in want of anything that I can do for you, don't forget there's a door of communication between your room and mine.
Franklin. All right. We will leave the door open, and talk if I can't sleep. (He looks back at the cabinet.) I don't like leaving the Moonstone there even for one night. (He turns away, and follows GODFREY up the gallery stairs. BETTEREDGE goes to the hall door and calls ANDREW.)
Betteredge. Now then, Andrew. Clear away, and put out the lamps. (ANDREW enters and begins to clear the supper-table. BETTEREDGE watches him. FRANKLIN and GODFREY shake hands as they part at their bedroom doors. BETTEREDGE looks up at them.) There they go to their beds! I shan't be sorry when I follow their example. (He seats himself wearily, and speaks, partly to himself, partly to ANDREW, while the man goes on clearing the supper-table.) Which of the two is the man for Miss Rachel? All things considered, I back Mr. Franklin. Andrew! have you noticed our two young gentlemen? Which of them should you say has the best chance of taking Miss Rachel's fancy?
Andrew. I should say Mr. Godfrey, sir. He has such a beautiful head of hair.
Betteredge (gravely). There's something in that. And he's a public character too. Such a speaker, Andrew, at charitable meetings! The last time I was in London, my young lady gave me two treats. She sent me to the theatre to see a dancing woman who was all the rage; and she sent me to Exeter Hall to hear Mr. Godfrey. The lady did it with a band of music. The gentleman did it with a white handkerchief and a glass of water. Crowds at the performance with the legs. Ditto at the performance with the tongue. And which of the two charmed most money out of the pockets of the public is more than I can say. Have you cleared the table, Andrew? Now put out the lamps, my man; and then come along with me, and lock up for the night. (ANDREW gets the steps to put out the lamps hanging from the ceiling. BETTEREDGE rises, and looks at the cabinet disapprovingly.) Ah, you're a shiny cabinet enough to look at, now you're varnished. Not a speck or smear on you anywhere. (ANDREW begins to put out the lamps.) Who would think you had got the devil himself inside you, in the shape of the Moonstone? Who knows what turn the Colonel's vengeance will take before another day is over our heads? Gently, Andrew, gently. A fine lamp is like a fine lady. They both of them want delicate handling. (He leads the way to the door at the back.) Come away! Time to lock up! Time to lock up! (He goes out, followed by ANDREW, and is heard to lock the hall door. A pause, marked by low music. The solitary hall is dimly lit by the last red embers of the fire. BETTEREDGE is just heard, speaking outside.)
Betteredge. Have you locked up in the outer hall?
Andrew (outside). Yes, sir.
Betteredge. Fasten the back door next.
Andrew. All right, sir! (Another pause. RACHEL'S door opens. She appears in her dressing-gown.)
Rachel. I am so restless, the limits of my own room won't hold me! I feel as if I should never sleep again. What sort of night is it? (She crosses to the window and draws one of the curtains. The high window, reaching to the cornice, is seen protected by a broad iron-sheathed shutter, which covers two-thirds of it from the floor upwards. Through the uncovered glass at the top, the moon appears. Its light streams into the room over the place occupied by the cabinet.) Oh, the beautiful moonlight! How peaceful! how pure! What does my wakefulness mean? Am I thinking of the diamond? or thinking of Franklin? (She glances at the cabinet.) No! I won't look at the Moonstone. There's something evil in the unearthly light that shines out of it in the dark. Ridiculous! I am as superstitious as poor old Betteredge himself! (She pauses, lost in thought.) Franklin! I wish he hadn't spoken in that cruel way of the poor deformed man who lent him the money in Paris. It wouldn't matter if I didn't love him. But I do love him--dearly! And I can't bear to feel that he has disappointed me. I almost doubt him! (Another pause.) I won't think any more of Franklin--at least, not to-night! I'll get a book, and read myself to sleep. (She approaches the bookcase. The door of FRANKLIN'S room opens. She hears it and looks up. FRANKLIN appears, in his dressing-gown and slippers. RACHEL starts, and makes for her own door.) What does he want? Why is he out of his bed? Is he sleepless, too? Is he coming down for a book? (FRANKLIN slowly descends the stairs.) I can't let him find me here alone, at this time of night! (She hurriedly enters her room, then looks out again cautiously into the hall, keeping the door in her hand. FRANKLIN descends the stairs, with slow measured steps. RACHEL watches him, ready to enter her room if he moves her way. Arrived near the cabinet, he pauses in the slanting ray of the moonlight, not looking towards RACHEL, but looking straight before him. RACHEL speaks to herself.) What is he waiting for? Is he listening? Is he frightened? What does it mean? (FRANKLIN slowly approaches the cabinet; he mutters to himself.)
Franklin (in low vacant tones). It's not safe in the cabinet. What's to be done with the Moonstone?
Rachel (barely hearing the last word). I can't hear what he says. Did he speak of the Moonstone? (FRANKLIN opens the doors of the cabinet and pauses, looking round him suspiciously. RACHEL watches him, hiding herself behind her half-opened door.) What is he doing? He seems afraid of being discovered! (FRANKLIN opens the drawer in which the diamond is placed, and looks round him again. RACHEL lifts her hands in horror.) Is he going to take the diamond? By stealth? In the dead of night? (She turns her head away, shuddering.) Is Godfrey right? Have his debts utterly degraded him? (She looks at him again. FRANKLIN takes the diamond out of the drawer, and turns to re-ascend the stairs.) He has taken the diamond! (She calls to him faintly.) Franklin! (She shudders, and takes a step to re-enter her room.) Oh, I can't speak to him! I can't look at him! A thief! a thief! (RACHEL'S voice sinks to a whisper. She hurries back horror-stricken to her room. FRANKLIN reaches his own door, opens it, enters, and closes it after him.
The First Act ends without the fall of the curtain. During the whole interval between the First and Second Acts, the stage is left empty in the view of the audience. Low music from the orchestra marks the lapse of time until the action of the piece is renewed. Changes also occur in the aspect of the scene. The moonlight gradually fades and disappears. The fire next dies away by degrees. There is pitch-darkness in the hall. A long pause follows, after which the faint light of dawn just begins to show itself through the uncovered top of the window, strengthens, and leads to the sunrise of the new day. The music in the orchestra modulates to a brighter melody while these changes proceed. The Second Act begins.
THE END OF THE FIRST ACT
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE SECOND ACT Footsteps and voices of servants, followed by the unbarring of the house door, are audible outside.