Unless you are either retired or an arts student, chances are you missed this week’s BBC adaption of The Moonstone, which was shown at the ungodly hour of 2:15 in the afternoon. This was a shame: not being on prime time meant that the show was decidedly low budget, and therefore missing some of the scale and lavishness which it calls for. Most of the detective work seems to take place in the billiards room, which somewhat exudes the aura of a slightly run-down youth club, complete with a beat-up pool table and threadbare carpet. It’s not visually stunning, but it is a valiant effort, and includes at least three moments of seriously good acting.

The Moonstone is one of those books that begs to be adapted for the TV – because it’s all about the plot. Wilkie Collins’ classic is celebrated as the first detective novel: it’s a thrilling mystery that unfurls around the theft of the Moonstone, a priceless diamond plundered from India. The narrative is woven together as witnesses, detectives and suspects take up the story in turn: the bewildered butler, the heartbroken housemaid, the opium-addicted scientist... the secret is held in suspense until the very end, and no one can be trusted.

This adaption attempted to capture something of the fragmentary nature of the novel by making a different character the focus of each episode, and framing the story somewhat awkwardly with the hero, Franklin Blake, attempting to unravel the mystery a year after the theft occurs. The first episode felt like a series of frustrating false starts – first we meet Franklin on a generic gravel pathway, which is apparently meant to be Italy (we know this because the footman conveniently says “scusi signor” to dispel our confusion), then we’re back in England and he’s being cold-shouldered by the beautiful yet slightly dull heiress Rachel Verinder, and then (finally) a series of flashbacks begin which tell the tale of the theft of the Moonstone. It’s all over the place – and the only distinction between past and present is the dark blue filter which all the present scenes are filmed in, presumably to show upset Franklin is.

It picks up a bit around episode 3, with the arrival of Miss Clack, Rachel’s self-righteous and deeply hypocritical cousin, acted hilariously by Miranda’s Sarah Hadland. But it is episode 4 that truly captures the essence of The Moonstone with the beautifully sorrowful story of Rosanna Spearman, who, hopelessly pining away in unrequited love, eventually commits suicide in the Shivering Sands. Jane McGrath steals the show, mingling desperate delusion with a kind of nobility in her portrayal of Rosanna. I wax lyrical because it melted my cold critic’s heart – and almost distracted me from that frustrating blue filter.

What’s really missing in this adaption is India: that sense of otherness which pervades the novel, that the real thieves in this story are the British Empire. A book like The Moonstone is really too big to do justice to on a small budget – and this is where it falls short of reaching its potential. That being said, it definitely provides an intriguing mystery and some excellent facial hair – necessary for every successful period drama. It’s worth catching an episode just for this.