CHAPTER XVI
We found my lady with no light in the room but the reading-lamp. Theshade was screwed down so as to overshadow her face. Instead of lookingup at us in her usual straightforward way, she sat close at the table,and kept her eyes fixed obstinately on an open book.
"Officer," she said, "is it important to the inquiry you are conducting,to know beforehand if any person now in this house wishes to leave it?"
"Most important, my lady."
"I have to tell you, then, that Miss Verinder proposes going to staywith her aunt, Mrs. Ablewhite, of Frizinghall. She has arranged to leaveus the first thing to-morrow morning."
Sergeant Cuff looked at me. I made a step forward to speak to mymistress--and, feeling my heart fail me (if I must own it), took a stepback again, and said nothing.
"May I ask your ladyship WHEN Miss Verinder informed you that she wasgoing to her aunt's?" inquired the Sergeant.
"About an hour since," answered my mistress.
Sergeant Cuff looked at me once more. They say old people's hearts arenot very easily moved. My heart couldn't have thumped much harder thanit did now, if I had been five-and-twenty again!
"I have no claim, my lady," says the Sergeant, "to control MissVerinder's actions. All I can ask you to do is to put off her departure,if possible, till later in the day. I must go to Frizinghall myselfto-morrow morning--and I shall be back by two o'clock, if not before. IfMiss Verinder can be kept here till that time, I should wish to say twowords to her--unexpectedly--before she goes."
My lady directed me to give the coachman her orders, that the carriagewas not to come for Miss Rachel until two o'clock. "Have you more tosay?" she asked of the Sergeant, when this had been done.
"Only one thing, your ladyship. If Miss Verinder is surprised at thischange in the arrangements, please not to mention Me as being the causeof putting off her journey."
My mistress lifted her head suddenly from her book as if she was goingto say something--checked herself by a great effort--and, looking backagain at the open page, dismissed us with a sign of her hand.
"That's a wonderful woman," said Sergeant Cuff, when we were out in thehall again. "But for her self-control, the mystery that puzzles you, Mr.Betteredge, would have been at an end to-night."
At those words, the truth rushed at last into my stupid old head. Forthe moment, I suppose I must have gone clean out of my senses. I seizedthe Sergeant by the collar of his coat, and pinned him against the wall.
"Damn you!" I cried out, "there's something wrong about Miss Rachel--andyou have been hiding it from me all this time!"
Sergeant Cuff looked up at me--flat against the wall--without stirring ahand, or moving a muscle of his melancholy face.
"Ah," he said, "you've guessed it at last."
My hand dropped from his collar, and my head sunk on my breast. Pleaseto remember, as some excuse for my breaking out as I did, that I hadserved the family for fifty years. Miss Rachel had climbed upon myknees, and pulled my whiskers, many and many a time when she was achild. Miss Rachel, with all her faults, had been, to my mind, thedearest and prettiest and best young mistress that ever an old servantwaited on, and loved. I begged Sergeant's Cuff's pardon, but I am afraidI did it with watery eyes, and not in a very becoming way.
"Don't distress yourself, Mr. Betteredge," says the Sergeant, with morekindness than I had any right to expect from him. "In my line of lifeif we were quick at taking offence, we shouldn't be worth salt to ourporridge. If it's any comfort to you, collar me again. You don't inthe least know how to do it; but I'll overlook your awkwardness inconsideration of your feelings."
He curled up at the corners of his lips, and, in his own dreary way,seemed to think he had delivered himself of a very good joke.
I led him into my own little sitting-room, and closed the door.
"Tell me the truth, Sergeant," I said. "What do you suspect? It's nokindness to hide it from me now."
"I don't suspect," said Sergeant Cuff. "I know."
My unlucky temper began to get the better of me again.
"Do you mean to tell me, in plain English," I said, "that Miss Rachelhas stolen her own Diamond?"
"Yes," says the Sergeant; "that is what I mean to tell you, in so manywords. Miss Verinder has been in secret possession of the Moonstone fromfirst to last; and she has taken Rosanna Spearman into her confidence,because she has calculated on our suspecting Rosanna Spearman of thetheft. There is the whole case in a nutshell. Collar me again, Mr.Betteredge. If it's any vent to your feelings, collar me again."
God help me! my feelings were not to be relieved in that way. "Give meyour reasons!" That was all I could say to him.
"You shall hear my reasons to-morrow," said the Sergeant. "If MissVerinder refuses to put off her visit to her aunt (which you will findMiss Verinder will do), I shall be obliged to lay the whole case beforeyour mistress to-morrow. And, as I don't know what may come of it, Ishall request you to be present, and to hear what passes on both sides.Let the matter rest for to-night. No, Mr. Betteredge, you don't get aword more on the subject of the Moonstone out of me. There is your tablespread for supper. That's one of the many human infirmities which Ialways treat tenderly. If you will ring the bell, I'll say grace. 'Forwhat we are going to receive----'"
"I wish you a good appetite to it, Sergeant," I said. "My appetite isgone. I'll wait and see you served, and then I'll ask you to excuse me,if I go away, and try to get the better of this by myself."
I saw him served with the best of everything--and I shouldn't have beensorry if the best of everything had choked him. The head gardener (Mr.Begbie) came in at the same time, with his weekly account. The Sergeantgot on the subject of roses and the merits of grass walks and gravelwalks immediately. I left the two together, and went out with a heavyheart. This was the first trouble I remember for many a long year whichwasn't to be blown off by a whiff of tobacco, and which was even beyondthe reach of ROBINSON CRUSOE.
Being restless and miserable, and having no particular room to go to, Itook a turn on the terrace, and thought it over in peace and quietnessby myself. It doesn't much matter what my thoughts were. I feltwretchedly old, and worn out, and unfit for my place--and began towonder, for the first time in my life, when it would please God to takeme. With all this, I held firm, notwithstanding, to my belief in MissRachel. If Sergeant Cuff had been Solomon in all his glory, and had toldme that my young lady had mixed herself up in a mean and guilty plot, Ishould have had but one answer for Solomon, wise as he was, "You don'tknow her; and I do."
My meditations were interrupted by Samuel. He brought me a writtenmessage from my mistress.
Going into the house to get a light to read it by, Samuel remarkedthat there seemed a change coming in the weather. My troubled mind hadprevented me from noticing it before. But, now my attention was roused,I heard the dogs uneasy, and the wind moaning low. Looking up at thesky, I saw the rack of clouds getting blacker and blacker, and hurryingfaster and faster over a watery moon. Wild weather coming--Samuel wasright, wild weather coming.
The message from my lady informed me, that the magistrate at Frizinghallhad written to remind her about the three Indians. Early in the comingweek, the rogues must needs be released, and left free to follow theirown devices. If we had any more questions to ask them, there was notime to lose. Having forgotten to mention this, when she had last seenSergeant Cuff, my mistress now desired me to supply the omission. TheIndians had gone clean out of my head (as they have, no doubt, goneclean out of yours). I didn't see much use in stirring that subjectagain. However, I obeyed my orders on the spot, as a matter of course.
I found Sergeant Cuff and the gardener, with a bottle of Scotch whiskybetween them, head over ears in an argument on the growing of roses. TheSergeant was so deeply interested that he held up his hand, and signedto me not to interrupt the discussion, when I came in. As far as I couldunderstand it, the question between them was, whether the white mossrose did, or did not, require to be budded on the dog-ros
e to makeit grow well. Mr. Begbie said, Yes; and Sergeant Cuff said, No. Theyappealed to me, as hotly as a couple of boys. Knowing nothing whateverabout the growing of roses, I steered a middle course--just as herMajesty's judges do, when the scales of justice bother them by hangingeven to a hair. "Gentlemen," I remarked, "there is much to be said onboth sides." In the temporary lull produced by that impartial sentence,I laid my lady's written message on the table, under the eyes ofSergeant Cuff.
I had got by this time, as nearly as might be, to hate the Sergeant. Buttruth compels me to acknowledge that, in respect of readiness of mind,he was a wonderful man.
In half a minute after he had read the message, he had looked back intohis memory for Superintendent Seegrave's report; had picked out thatpart of it in which the Indians were concerned; and was ready with hisanswer. A certain great traveller, who understood the Indians and theirlanguage, had figured in Mr. Seegrave's report, hadn't he? Very well.Did I know the gentleman's name and address? Very well again. WouldI write them on the back of my lady's message? Much obliged to me.Sergeant Cuff would look that gentleman up, when he went to Frizinghallin the morning.
"Do you expect anything to come of it?" I asked. "SuperintendentSeegrave found the Indians as innocent as the babe unborn."
"Superintendent Seegrave has been proved wrong, up to this time, in allhis conclusions," answered the Sergeant. "It may be worth while tofind out to-morrow whether Superintendent Seegrave was wrong about theIndians as well." With that he turned to Mr. Begbie, and took upthe argument again exactly at the place where it had left off. "Thisquestion between us is a question of soils and seasons, and patienceand pains, Mr. Gardener. Now let me put it to you from another point ofview. You take your white moss rose----"
By that time, I had closed the door on them, and was out of hearing ofthe rest of the dispute.
In the passage, I met Penelope hanging about, and asked what she waswaiting for.
She was waiting for her young lady's bell, when her young lady choseto call her back to go on with the packing for the next day's journey.Further inquiry revealed to me, that Miss Rachel had given it as areason for wanting to go to her aunt at Frizinghall, that the house wasunendurable to her, and that she could bear the odious presence of apoliceman under the same roof with herself no longer. On being informed,half an hour since, that her departure would be delayed till two in theafternoon, she had flown into a violent passion. My lady, present at thetime, had severely rebuked her, and then (having apparently somethingto say, which was reserved for her daughter's private ear) had sentPenelope out of the room. My girl was in wretchedly low spirits aboutthe changed state of things in the house. "Nothing goes right,father; nothing is like what it used to be. I feel as if some dreadfulmisfortune was hanging over us all."
That was my feeling too. But I put a good face on it, before mydaughter. Miss Rachel's bell rang while we were talking. Penelope ranup the back stairs to go on with the packing. I went by the other way tothe hall, to see what the glass said about the change in the weather.
Just as I approached the swing-door leading into the hall from theservants' offices, it was violently opened from the other side, andRosanna Spearman ran by me, with a miserable look of pain in her face,and one of her hands pressed hard over her heart, as if the pang was inthat quarter. "What's the matter, my girl?" I asked, stopping her. "Areyou ill?" "For God's sake, don't speak to me," she answered, and twistedherself out of my hands, and ran on towards the servants' staircase. Icalled to the cook (who was within hearing) to look after the poor girl.Two other persons proved to be within hearing, as well as the cook.Sergeant Cuff darted softly out of my room, and asked what was thematter. I answered, "Nothing." Mr. Franklin, on the other side, pulledopen the swing-door, and beckoning me into the hall, inquired if I hadseen anything of Rosanna Spearman.
"She has just passed me, sir, with a very disturbed face, and in a veryodd manner."
"I am afraid I am innocently the cause of that disturbance, Betteredge."
"You, sir!"
"I can't explain it," says Mr. Franklin; "but, if the girl IS concernedin the loss of the Diamond, I do really believe she was on the point ofconfessing everything--to me, of all the people in the world--not twominutes since."
Looking towards the swing-door, as he said those last words, I fancied Isaw it opened a little way from the inner side.
Was there anybody listening? The door fell to, before I could get to it.Looking through, the moment after, I thought I saw the tails of SergeantCuff's respectable black coat disappearing round the corner of thepassage. He knew, as well as I did, that he could expect no more helpfrom me, now that I had discovered the turn which his investigationswere really taking. Under those circumstances, it was quite in hischaracter to help himself, and to do it by the underground way.
Not feeling sure that I had really seen the Sergeant--and not desiringto make needless mischief, where, Heaven knows, there was mischiefenough going on already--I told Mr. Franklin that I thought one of thedogs had got into the house--and then begged him to describe what hadhappened between Rosanna and himself.
"Were you passing through the hall, sir?" I asked. "Did you meet heraccidentally, when she spoke to you?"
Mr. Franklin pointed to the billiard-table.
"I was knocking the balls about," he said, "and trying to get thismiserable business of the Diamond out of my mind. I happened to lookup--and there stood Rosanna Spearman at the side of me, like a ghost!Her stealing on me in that way was so strange, that I hardly knew whatto do at first. Seeing a very anxious expression in her face, I askedher if she wished to speak to me. She answered, 'Yes, if I dare.'Knowing what suspicion attached to her, I could only put oneconstruction on such language as that. I confess it made meuncomfortable. I had no wish to invite the girl's confidence. At thesame time, in the difficulties that now beset us, I could hardly feeljustified in refusing to listen to her, if she was really bent onspeaking to me. It was an awkward position; and I dare say I got out ofit awkwardly enough. I said to her, 'I don't quite understand you. Isthere anything you want me to do?' Mind, Betteredge, I didn't speakunkindly! The poor girl can't help being ugly--I felt that, at the time.The cue was still in my hand, and I went on knocking the balls about,to take off the awkwardness of the thing. As it turned out, I only madematters worse still. I'm afraid I mortified her without meaning it! Shesuddenly turned away. 'He looks at the billiard balls,' I heard her say.'Anything rather than look at _me_!' Before I could stop her, she hadleft the hall. I am not quite easy about it, Betteredge. Would you mindtelling Rosanna that I meant no unkindness? I have been a little hard onher, perhaps, in my own thoughts--I have almost hoped that the loss ofthe Diamond might be traced to _her_. Not from any ill-will to the poorgirl: but----" He stopped there, and going back to the billiard-table,began to knock the balls about once more.
After what had passed between the Sergeant and me, I knew what it wasthat he had left unspoken as well as he knew it himself.
Nothing but the tracing of the Moonstone to our second housemaid couldnow raise Miss Rachel above the infamous suspicion that rested on herin the mind of Sergeant Cuff. It was no longer a question of quietingmy young lady's nervous excitement; it was a question of proving herinnocence. If Rosanna had done nothing to compromise herself, the hopewhich Mr. Franklin confessed to having felt would have been hard enoughon her in all conscience. But this was not the case. She had pretendedto be ill, and had gone secretly to Frizinghall. She had been up allnight, making something or destroying something, in private. And she hadbeen at the Shivering Sand, that evening, under circumstances whichwere highly suspicious, to say the least of them. For all these reasons(sorry as I was for Rosanna) I could not but think that Mr. Franklin'sway of looking at the matter was neither unnatural nor unreasonable, inMr. Franklin's position. I said a word to him to that effect.
"Yes, yes!" he said in return. "But there is just a chance--a very poorone, certainly--that Rosanna's conduct may admit of some explanationwhich we
don't see at present. I hate hurting a woman's feelings,Betteredge! Tell the poor creature what I told you to tell her. And ifshe wants to speak to me--I don't care whether I get into a scrape ornot--send her to me in the library." With those kind words he laid downthe cue and left me.
Inquiry at the servants' offices informed me that Rosanna had retired toher own room. She had declined all offers of assistance with thanks, andhad only asked to be left to rest in quiet. Here, therefore, was an endof any confession on her part (supposing she really had a confessionto make) for that night. I reported the result to Mr. Franklin, who,thereupon, left the library, and went up to bed.
I was putting the lights out, and making the windows fast, when Samuelcame in with news of the two guests whom I had left in my room.
The argument about the white moss rose had apparently come to an end atlast. The gardener had gone home, and Sergeant Cuff was nowhere to befound in the lower regions of the house.
I looked into my room. Quite true--nothing was to be discovered therebut a couple of empty tumblers and a strong smell of hot grog. Had theSergeant gone of his own accord to the bed-chamber that was prepared forhim? I went up-stairs to see.
After reaching the second landing, I thought I heard a sound of quietand regular breathing on my left-hand side. My left-hand side led to thecorridor which communicated with Miss Rachel's room. I looked in, andthere, coiled up on three chairs placed right across the passage--there,with a red handkerchief tied round his grizzled head, and hisrespectable black coat rolled up for a pillow, lay and slept SergeantCuff!
He woke, instantly and quietly, like a dog, the moment I approached him.
"Good night, Mr. Betteredge," he said. "And mind, if you ever taketo growing roses, the white moss rose is all the better for not beingbudded on the dog-rose, whatever the gardener may say to the contrary!"
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Why are you not in your properbed?"
"I am not in my proper bed," answered the Sergeant, "because I am oneof the many people in this miserable world who can't earn their moneyhonestly and easily at the same time. There was a coincidence, thisevening, between the period of Rosanna Spearman's return from the Sandsand the period when Miss Verinder stated her resolution to leave thehouse. Whatever Rosanna may have hidden, it's clear to my mind that youryoung lady couldn't go away until she knew that it WAS hidden. The twomust have communicated privately once already to-night. If they try tocommunicate again, when the house is quiet, I want to be in the way, andstop it. Don't blame me for upsetting your sleeping arrangements, Mr.Betteredge--blame the Diamond."
"I wish to God the Diamond had never found its way into this house!" Ibroke out.
Sergeant Cuff looked with a rueful face at the three chairs on which hehad condemned himself to pass the night.
"So do I," he said, gravely.
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