 The weird circle. In this cave, by the restless sea, we are met to call from out the past stories, strange, and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell, so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. In the world gone by, speak again the immortal tale, the Moonstone. One thousand years ago, in the holy city of Somnath in Mother India, there stood a temple of gold. And in this temple, sitting in sombre judgment on his cringing worshippers, was he whom they called the Moongot. And deeply embedded in his golden forehead, there stood a great yellow diamond, fabulous beyond all price. And from it came the evil light of the moon, waxing bright when the moon was full, and waning pale when the moon grew dim. This was the holy treasure of ageless India, this they called the Moonstone. And it came to pass that the great God Vishnu, the preserver, came upon the wings of a monsoon wind, and appeared to the three high priests of the temple, and said to them, I, Vishnu, have breathed the breath of divinity into the Moonstone. Ye three shall watch it, and after you three other brahmin priests, and after you three others, till the end of time. And he who lays hands upon this sacred gem, and thus defiles it, shall come to evil and disaster. And those of his house and name who follow him, this shall be my curse. I, Vishnu, have spoken. I, Gabriel Vetteridge, house steward in the service of Julia, Lady Verrinder, have heard the legendary tale of the Moonstone. Once I thought it fanciful nonsense, a tale spun of opium mists and hashish greens from Bombay to Singapore. Yet today I have reason to believe, good reason to believe, for here in quiet rural Yorkshire, far from the even temples of India, I have seen the Moonstone and known its evil heritage. This is the tale I would tell you. It begins in Somnath India in the year 1799. The English army was lined up before the ramparts of the city, preparing for a final assault. The night before, a group of officers toast to the coming attack. Among them, Sir John Hearncastle, the proplicate cousin of my Lady Julia, and uncle of Miss Rachel Verrinder. Another drink, Sir John? Aye, fair one, fill the cup to the brim with wine. Shall we drink to victory then? No, let's drink to home. This time home, who the devil wants to go home? There's no one waiting for me there anyway. But Sir John, you have a cousin in Yorkshire. Lady Julia Verrinder, a pox on the head. She wouldn't even receive me. Seems that the smell of a gentleman's adventure is too much for our nostrils. She turned you away then? Aye, called me wasteful and profligate. But I'll be revenge on my dear cousin. I'll be revenge, Mark you. Come gentlemen, lift your cup to victory. Aye, and to the Moonstone, the greatest prize of India. Aye! All this was related to me by a cousin of this infamous adventurer. Through the flame and desolation, Sir John Herne Castle, bloody sword in hand, raced for the temper, rushed into the inner chamber, theirs to the moon god, with the glittering gem in its forehead, beckoning, beckoning him on. The Moonstone, it's mine, mine at last. And if the fifth curse goes with it, then I'll take that too. Less than a year later they found Sir John lying in a pool of blood outside a tiny inn in Guangpur in Bengal province. His throat had been slashed with three deep gashes, three, mind you. Although one would have been more than enough to do the trick. As to the Moonstone, it had disappeared. And then it was that young Franklin Blake, a cousin of Sir John, came to our house in Yorkshire and sought an immediate audience with Rachel Verinder, daughter of my lady D. It's been a long time, Rachel. Yes, Franklin, it has. Why haven't you been down to see me? Oh, legal business and the pressure of work. You missed me then, Rachel. You want a confession? Well, as a barrister, I should like nothing better. Very well then. I throw myself upon the mercy of the court and confess. Goodness you, Franklin, truly. You're very lovely, Rachel. And you're very kind. Am I? I wonder. Of course you'll say the weekend. It's my birthday today, you know. Mother's giving me a party tonight and the house is full of interesting people right now. Godfrey Abel White, the man about town and the talk of London. He's incredibly handsome, you know. And then there's Mr. Merthwaite, the famous Indian traveler. Rachel, my dear, I have a confession to make. I came up to Yorkshire here to see you, as I wanted to. But I also came up on a matter of business. Your business. Franklin, what are you talking about? You've heard of Sir John Hearn, hasn't you? Well, yes, he's Mother's cousin. They... Well, they hated each other. Yes, I know. That's what makes this whole matter so strange. You see, Rachel, Sir John left you a legacy. Ah, a legacy? Yes, he appointed the executor on this matter, sent the legacy with instructions to hold it in a vault, and give it to you on your next birthday. As a matter of fact, I have it here in my pocket right now. Well, what is it, Franklin? Oh, I just can't wait to see. Have it in this box. Open it and see for yourself. What? It takes your birthday away, doesn't it? A yellow diamond. Big as a pigeon's egg. And that strange light coming from it. Yes. Like the light of a moon. Yes. Yes, yes, that's it. Why... It must be worth a fortune. Yes, I'd say about 20,000 pounds. Look, Franklin, I don't understand. Why would Sir John give me this precious gift? Well, I should think I'd be the last person. I think I know. Well, then tell me. Rachel, they call this diamond the Moonstone. It has an unsabery history. This is Sir John's Macauber we're preventing himself. Because when he gave you this Moonstone, he gave you the evil curse that goes with it. Rachel Verano was not the kind of woman to fear any vague or inter-legend. The Moonstone fascinated her and made her almost drunk with delight. At her birthday party that night, she wore it at the neck of her gown. Ha, ha, ha. A toast to the Queen, gentlemen. Let us drink the health of her. Ah, but what a vision. She wears a jewel at her throat, but beautiful as it is, its beauty is hard. It flashes without warmth against the greater jewel. She who wears it. Ha, ha, ha. Very, very sweet, Godfrey. No wonder you have all the ladies of London at your feet. Ha, ha, that was yesterday when I came to Yorkshire. That was a different Godfrey able white you knew. Tonight, dear Rachel, I grapple in the dust at your feet. Ha, ha, ha. Godfrey, you'll have me jealous of my own daughter. Oh, if I were 20 years younger. You pine without reason, Julia. The daughter has inherited the beauty of the mother. What do you say, Merthwaite? Is there such beauty in any part of India? No, not anywhere else in the Orient. What say you, Franklin? You've been strangely silent. I've been thinking of the Moonstone. What did you say, men? The Moonstone at Miss Veranda, where is it her neck? Hi, Mr. Merthwaite. What's wrong? Are you ill? I, er, no, my lady. I've not had a bit of a shock. Mr. Blake, do you mean to say that's the original Moonstone from India? Yes, I do. It was left in legacy by Sir John Hearncastle. Did I suggest that Miss Veranda dispose of it at once? Certainly not. You're referring to that silly legend about the curse. Brave girl, Rachel. Of course, the whole thing's utter nonsense. Rachel. Why don't you let me hold the Moonstone and trust for you? Let me put it in a safe bowl. Oh, bitter spit. You're all acting like a pack of frightened old women. Of course I should keep it right here with me. I must say I misjudged Sir John terribly. I made no bones of my dislike for him, yet he responded with his magnificent gift. He had an evil purpose, my lady. Oh, stop and nonsense, Blake. You're too intelligent to chat to go for this oriental mumbo jumbo. I wouldn't take it so lightly, Mr. Merthwaite. Rachel, I beg of you. Let me be the custodian of that gem. Aren't you being rather persistent, Blake? Now, look here, April White. I think you should say out of something that doesn't concern you. Gentleman, please. Mother's right. I'll have no quarrelling in my birthday party. What? What's that? Strange. It is a very familiar sound, but it's almost unbelievable here in Yorkshire. I must say I've never heard anything like it. Sounds like some sort of gibberish like drums beating. I'll just have a look through the window. Why? But that's... it's incredible. What's incredible, Merthwaite? Well, this is England. I know it. Out on that road, there are three Indian jugglers. They're stopping here at this house. Where are the Indian jugglers? Here? Yes, they're using their drum gore to advertise their performance. Well, let's have them in for a performance, eh, Rachel? Be a capital idea. Of course, Godfrey. I'd love to. What do you say, Mother? Oh, why not? Well, frankly, I've never seen an Indian let alone Indian jugglers. Strange that they should be in Yorkshire of all places, though. I wonder if it's so strange. I stood by the sideboard and watched the strange performance. It held me spellbound as it did the people round the table. Was it my imagination? Or did they actually fix their brilliant eyes during the whole performance on the yellow stone at Miss Verrinder Street? The minute the three performers left the premises, Mr. Murthwitt asked the ladies if he might speak privately to all the gentlemen on an urgent matter. They assented and we gathered in the library. Oh, then, Murthwitt, what's this urgent matter you spoke of? I'll warrant you've alarmed the ladies. I'll come to it every quite soon enough. It's about those three Indian jugglers. Yes, what about them? Just this, Blake. I've seen enough Oriental juggling with those fellows or amateurs. What you saw tonight was a very bad and clumsy imitation of the real thing. You mean that these dark Johnnys are impostors? Exactly, April White. Unless after long experience I'm sadly mistaken, those three Hindus are high-caste bromines. Then they must be out of the moonstone. No doubt about it in my mind. Mr. Blake, you carried that gem from London here, did you not? Yes, I did. Then I must congratulate you. I'm very lucky to be alive. Oh, come now. Isn't this a bit thick? Not at all, April White. You can take my word for it. Blake has had a narrow escape. These men are devils. They have the patience of cats and the ferocity of tigers. It's hard to think that even these beggars will take your human life. Mr. April White, do you smoke? I say, do you smoke? Yes, of course. A pipe. What the devils have got to do with it? No. In the country those men came from, they'd care just as much about killing a man as you care about emptying the ashes out of your pipe. The theft of the moonstone represents a sacrifice of caste, a serious thing in India. The sacrifice of life is nothing at all. Good lord. We better warn Rachel, Miss Verander, at once. Those devils know who has the moonstone now. I bolted all the doors and locked the windows. Then I retired. The next morning I woke and had just finished dressing when I heard a commotion on the second floor. I raced upstairs and on the landing, Mr. Blake... Mr. Bertha... What happened? Now, Julia, what's happened? Diamond. It's gone, Franklin. Are you sure, my lady? Yes, I saw Rachel put it in this cabinet drawer last night. Now it's empty. You can see for yourself. Where's Rachel? Is she all right? Rachel? Please go away, all of you. The moonstone's been stolen and there's nothing any of us can do. Rachel, for heaven's sake, what's happened? Are you all right? Did you see anything or hear anything? Go away, all of you. Do you hear? Go away. I don't want to talk about it. I never want to hear of that, Diamond, again. All of us were struck with Rachel Verander's strange attitude. She locked herself in her room and we put it down to some kind of feminine reaction at the loss of so precious a possession. Franklin Blake immediately sent for the authorities and in a short time, sergeant Cuff of the detective police arrived. Immediately he summoned us all to the main hall. Now then, none of you saw anything or heard anything. What about you, Miss Verander? The diamond was stolen from the small sitting room and joining your bedroom. I... I don't care to talk about it. Miss Verander, I'm afraid you'll have to... Look here, Sergeant. Can't you question my daughter a little later? She's had a terrible shock. You can see that. Oh, very well, my lady. May go to your room if you wish, Miss Verander. Thank you. Now then, did anyone hear any noise during the night? No. You seem pretty positive, Mr. Merthwaite. I am. I didn't sleep a wink last night thinking of that blast at Moonstone and the curse that goes with it. I don't take any stock in these oriental stories, Mr. Merthwaite. Perhaps you don't, Sergeant Cuff. I can assure you that the stone will bring trouble wherever it goes. Look what it's done to this household already. Yes, look what it's done to Rachel. She isn't the same anymore. She's so changed. I think it's very simple, Sergeant Cuff. Just find out where those Indian blighters are and apprehend them. No need for that, Mr. Ablewhite. I know where those Indian jugglers are. Beautiful. They're locked up in the village jail and were there all night. Local constable arrested them on suspicion when they returned from this house yesterday. Well, then they couldn't have stoned the Moonstone if they were in jail. Precisely, Mr. Blake. They couldn't. They have a perfect alibi. And the steward here, Gabriel, says he locked every window and door besides. Precisely. The safest someone in this house, in this very room. For three days, Sergeant Cuff grilled all the servants and guests but came up against a blank wall. Meanwhile, the three Indians were released from confinement and promptly disappeared. Finally, Sergeant Cuff went back to London accompanied by Franklin Blake who had urgent legal business to resolve. Months passed and Rachel Verinder drew more and more within herself. She spent days in her room and would receive no one. Lady Julia did everything to bring back her daughter's one sunny disposition but it was no use. It was obvious to me that such a radical change in Miss Rachel could not come about to mere grief at the loss of the Moonstone. It was though she had been affected by this kind of slow working curse. And then one day a visitor came to the house. Rachel. What is it, Mother? You have a visitor. I'll see no one, dear. It's Franklin Blake. He's come all the way from London. Franklin. He has. Yes. Very well, Mother. I'll receive him. Come in, Franklin. Thank you. He don't stay too long. Very well. I'll leave you two. Rachel. Hello, Franklin. Why haven't you answered my letters? I sent you five or six. Don't you know? No, I don't. Something's happened to you, Rachel. You've changed. Your feeling for me was warm before the night the Moonstone disappeared. You've grown cold and distant. Even hostile. I have no feeling for thieves but contempt. What do you mean? I saw you steal the Moonstone. What? I heard a noise in my sitting room that night. I opened the bedroom door just a little and peered through. I saw you rifling the cabinet drawer where the Moonstone lay. There could be no mistake. Rachel, I... I could have exposed you to the police, Franklin, but... Well, I loved you once. If you were willing to throw away that love for the Moonstone, that was your sword at the fair. I decided to let you have your evil bargain. Rachel, I didn't take the Moonstone. You were there, Franklin. I saw it. Are you going to deny it? No. No, I'll not deny it. I was there. I wanted to take the diamond and hold it for you. To direct the danger towards me to keep you safe. But the diamond was gone. Someone had been there ahead of me. A likely story. Then you don't believe me. No. You're only trying to brazen your way out of it. Rachel, you must believe me. Please go, Franklin. Please go at once. Franklin Blake went straight to Sergeant Cuff in London and told him everything. But Sergeant Cuff, like a hound in the chase, was on a new scent. A certain notorious moneylender and jewel fence, one Septimus Luca, was the key. Sergeant Cuff reasoned that Luca was the only man big enough to handle a gem the size and the price of the Moonstone and kept his place under constant watch. Then one night he went down to see Luca and took Franklin Blake with him. Well, it's certainly not a very nice section of London, Sergeant, especially at night. These narrow alleyways have sheltered many a cutthroat. There's Luca's establishment across the street. Oh yes. The shade's drawn. But there's a little light filtering in at the bottom of the blinds. Oh, our friend Septimus Luca is in all right. He transactes an important business at night. By that I mean his thievery. What interest would Luca have on the Moonstone? Oh, merely to hold it in a vault in safekeeping until the thief who took it thought the detective police had lost interest. Oh, I see. As a sort of pledge. If you see Blake, the thief would pay Septimus Luca a large commission for holding the gem in a scroll. Then at his leisure he could transport the Moonstone to Amsterdam. There have it cut up into smaller diamonds. Oh yes. Come on, Blake. Let's cross the street and go in. A few questions I'd like to ask. Oh, wait. Someone's coming. Yes. A man on horseback. A sergeant. Why, it's Godfrey Abelwhite. He's stopping in front of Luca's place. Blake, get back in this door way quick. It's gone in. So, it was Godfrey Abelwhite who took the Moonstone from Rachel's cabinet. No doubt about it. Makes proper sense too. Everybody in London knows that Abelwhite is desperately in debt, gambled a fortune away and now can't meet his creditors. Come on, let's go in. Abelwhite. Abelwhite, look. Look there. On the floor. Septimus Luca. Dead. Yes. The three slashes in his throat. A curse of Vishnu. There is little more to this tale. The back window to Luca's establishment was wide open and an empty jewel box lay on the counter. This is the story of the Moonstone. Call the legend fancy, if you like. I call it a fact. For on the very day that Franklin Blake and Rachel Verinder were married, a dispatch from India noted that the Moonstone had mysteriously and in the night been restored to the forehead of the moon god in the ancient temple at summer. And as far as I know, it rests there to this day. I, Vishnu, have breathed the breath of divinity into the Moonstone. Ye three shall watch it. And after you three ramen priests. And after you three others till the end of time. And he who lays hands upon this sacred gem and thus defiles it shall come to evil and disaster. And those of his house and neighbor who follow him. This shall be my curse. First, I, Vishnu, have spoken. From the time one pages of the past we have brought you the story The Moonstone. Bellkeeper, toll the bell.