The Moonstone

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER XX

  Those in front had spread the news before us. We found the servants ina state of panic. As we passed my lady's door, it was thrown openviolently from the inner side. My mistress came out among us (with Mr.Franklin following, and trying vainly to compose her), quite besideherself with the horror of the thing.

  "You are answerable for this!" she cried out, threatening the Sergeantwildly with her hand. "Gabriel! give that wretch his money--and releaseme from the sight of him!"

  The Sergeant was the only one among us who was fit to cope withher--being the only one among us who was in possession of himself.

  "I am no more answerable for this distressing calamity, my lady, thanyou are," he said. "If, in half an hour from this, you still insist onmy leaving the house, I will accept your ladyship's dismissal, but notyour ladyship's money."

  It was spoken very respectfully, but very firmly at the same time--andit had its effect on my mistress as well as on me. She suffered Mr.Franklin to lead her back into the room. As the door closed on the two,the Sergeant, looking about among the women-servants in his observantway, noticed that while all the rest were merely frightened, Penelopewas in tears. "When your father has changed his wet clothes," he said toher, "come and speak to us, in your father's room."

  Before the half-hour was out, I had got my dry clothes on, and had lentSergeant Cuff such change of dress as he required. Penelope came in tous to hear what the Sergeant wanted with her. I don't think I ever feltwhat a good dutiful daughter I had, so strongly as I felt it at thatmoment. I took her and sat her on my knee and I prayed God bless her.She hid her head on my bosom, and put her arms round my neck--and wewaited a little while in silence. The poor dead girl must have been atthe bottom of it, I think, with my daughter and with me. The Sergeantwent to the window, and stood there looking out. I thought it right tothank him for considering us both in this way--and I did.

  People in high life have all the luxuries to themselves--among others,the luxury of indulging their feelings. People in low life have no suchprivilege. Necessity, which spares our betters, has no pity on us. Welearn to put our feelings back into ourselves, and to jog on with ourduties as patiently as may be. I don't complain of this--I only noticeit. Penelope and I were ready for the Sergeant, as soon as the Sergeantwas ready on his side. Asked if she knew what had led her fellow-servantto destroy herself, my daughter answered (as you will foresee) that itwas for love of Mr. Franklin Blake. Asked next, if she had mentionedthis notion of hers to any other person, Penelope answered, "I have notmentioned it, for Rosanna's sake." I felt it necessary to add a word tothis. I said, "And for Mr. Franklin's sake, my dear, as well. If RosannaHAS died for love of him, it is not with his knowledge or by his fault.Let him leave the house to-day, if he does leave it, without the uselesspain of knowing the truth." Sergeant Cuff said, "Quite right," and fellsilent again; comparing Penelope's notion (as it seemed to me) with someother notion of his own which he kept to himself.

  At the end of the half-hour, my mistress's bell rang.

  On my way to answer it, I met Mr. Franklin coming out of his aunt'ssitting-room. He mentioned that her ladyship was ready to see SergeantCuff--in my presence as before--and he added that he himself wantedto say two words to the Sergeant first. On our way back to my room, hestopped, and looked at the railway time-table in the hall.

  "Are you really going to leave us, sir?" I asked. "Miss Rachel willsurely come right again, if you only give her time?"

  "She will come right again," answered Mr. Franklin, "when she hears thatI have gone away, and that she will see me no more."

  I thought he spoke in resentment of my young lady's treatment of him.But it was not so. My mistress had noticed, from the time when thepolice first came into the house, that the bare mention of him wasenough to set Miss Rachel's temper in a flame. He had been too fond ofhis cousin to like to confess this to himself, until the truth had beenforced on him, when she drove off to her aunt's. His eyes once openedin that cruel way which you know of, Mr. Franklin had taken hisresolution--the one resolution which a man of any spirit COULD take--toleave the house.

  What he had to say to the Sergeant was spoken in my presence. Hedescribed her ladyship as willing to acknowledge that she had spokenover-hastily. And he asked if Sergeant Cuff would consent--in thatcase--to accept his fee, and to leave the matter of the Diamond wherethe matter stood now. The Sergeant answered, "No, sir. My fee is paid mefor doing my duty. I decline to take it, until my duty is done."

  "I don't understand you," says Mr. Franklin.

  "I'll explain myself, sir," says the Sergeant. "When I came here, Iundertook to throw the necessary light on the matter of the missingDiamond. I am now ready, and waiting to redeem my pledge. When I havestated the case to Lady Verinder as the case now stands, and when I havetold her plainly what course of action to take for the recovery of theMoonstone, the responsibility will be off my shoulders. Let her ladyshipdecide, after that, whether she does, or does not, allow me to go on. Ishall then have done what I undertook to do--and I'll take my fee."

  In those words Sergeant Cuff reminded us that, even in the DetectivePolice, a man may have a reputation to lose.

  The view he took was so plainly the right one, that there was no moreto be said. As I rose to conduct him to my lady's room, he asked if Mr.Franklin wished to be present. Mr. Franklin answered, "Not unless LadyVerinder desires it." He added, in a whisper to me, as I was followingthe Sergeant out, "I know what that man is going to say about Rachel;and I am too fond of her to hear it, and keep my temper. Leave me bymyself."

  I left him, miserable enough, leaning on the sill of my window, with hisface hidden in his hands and Penelope peeping through the door, longingto comfort him. In Mr. Franklin's place, I should have called her in.When you are ill-used by one woman, there is great comfort in telling itto another--because, nine times out of ten, the other always takes yourside. Perhaps, when my back was turned, he did call her in? In that caseit is only doing my daughter justice to declare that she would stick atnothing, in the way of comforting Mr. Franklin Blake.

  In the meantime, Sergeant Cuff and I proceeded to my lady's room.

  At the last conference we had held with her, we had found her not overwilling to lift her eyes from the book which she had on the table. Onthis occasion there was a change for the better. She met the Sergeant'seye with an eye that was as steady as his own. The family spirit showeditself in every line of her face; and I knew that Sergeant Cuff wouldmeet his match, when a woman like my mistress was strung up to hear theworst he could say to her.