THE MOONSTONE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE WOMAN IN WHITE," &c. &c.

CHAPTER XX.

THE first words, when we had taken our seats,
were spoken by my lady.

"Sergeant Cuff," she said, "there was perhaps
some excuse for the inconsiderate manner in
which I spoke to you half an hour since. I
have no wish, however, to claim that excuse. I
say, with perfect sincerity, that I regret it, if I
wronged you."

The grace of voice and manner with which
she made him that atonement had its due effect
on the Sergeant. He requested permission to
justify himself—putting his justification as an act
of respect to my mistress. It was impossible,
he said, that he could be in any way responsible
for the calamity which had shocked us all, for
this sufficient reason, that his success in bringing
his inquiry to its proper end depended on
his neither saying nor doing anything that could
alarm Rosanna Spearman. He appealed to me
to testify whether he had, or had not, carried
that object out. I could, and did, bear witness
that he had. And there, as I thought, the
matter might have been judiciously left to come
to an end.

Sergeant Cuff, however, took it a step further,
evidently (as you shall now judge) with the
purpose of forcing the most painful of all
possible explanations to take place between her
ladyship and himself.

"I have heard a motive assigned for the
young woman's suicide," said the Sergeant,
"which may possibly be the right one. It is a
motive quite unconnected with the case which
I am conducting here. I am bound to add, however,
that my own opinion points the other way.
Some unbearable anxiety, in connexion with the
missing Diamond, has, as I believe, driven the
poor creature to her own destruction. I don't
pretend to know what that unbearable anxiety
may have been. But I think (with your
ladyship's permission) I can lay my hand on a
person who is capable of deciding whether I am
right or wrong."

"Is the person now in the house?" my
mistress asked, after waiting a little.

"The person has left the house, my lady."

That answer pointed as straight to Miss
Rachel as straight could be. A silence dropped
on us which I thought would never come to an
end. Lord! how the wind howled, and how
the rain drove at the window, as I sat there
waiting for one or other of them to speak
again!

"Be so good as to express yourself plainly,"
said my lady. "Do you refer to my daughter?"

"I do," said Sergeant Cuff, in so many words.

My mistress had her cheque-book on the
table when we entered the room—no doubt to
pay the Sergeant his fee. She now put it back
in the drawer. It went to my heart to see how
her poor hand trembled—the hand that had
loaded her old servant with benefits; the hand
that, I pray God, may take mine, when my time
comes, and I leave my place for ever!

"I had hoped," said my lady, very slowly and
quietly, "to have recompensed your services,
and to have parted with you without Miss
Verinder's name having been openly mentioned
between us as it has been mentioned now. My
nephew has probably said something of this,
before you came into my room?"

"Mr. Blake gave his message, my lady. And
I gave Mr. Blake a reason——"

"It is needless to tell me your reason. After
what you have just said, you know as well as I
do that you have gone too far to go back. I
owe it to myself, and I owe it to my child, to
insist on your remaining here, and to insist on
your speaking out."

The Sergeant looked at his watch.

"If there had been time, my lady," he
answered, "I should have preferred writing my
report, instead of communicating it by word
of mouth. But, if this inquiry is to go on,
time is of too much importance to be wasted
in writing. I am ready to go into the matter
at once. It is a very painful matter for me to
speak of, and for you to hear ——"

There my mistress stopped him once more.

"I may possibly make it less painful to you,
and to my good servant and friend here," she
said, "if I set the example of speaking boldly,
on my side. You suspect Miss Verinder of
deceiving us all, by secreting the Diamond for
some purpose of her own? Is that true?"

"Quite true, my lady."

"Very well. Now, before you begin, I have
to tell you, as Miss Verinder's mother, that she
is absolutely incapable of doing what you
suppose her to have done. Your knowledge of her