me. Sergeant Cuff would look that gentleman
up, when he went to Frizinghall in the
morning.

"Do you expect anything to come of it?" I
asked. "Superintendent Seegrave found the
Indians as innocent as the babe unborn."

"Superintendent Seegrave has been proved
wrong, up to this time, in all his conclusions,"
answered the Sergeant. "It may be worth while
to find out to-morrow whether Superintendent
Seegrave was wrong about the Indians as well."
With that he turned to Mr. Begbie, and took
up the argument again exactly at the place
where it had left off. "This question between
us is a question of soils and seasons, and patience
and pains, Mr. Gardener. Now let me put it
to you from another point of view. You take
your white moss rose——"

By that time, I had closed the door on them,
and was out of hearing of the rest of the
dispute.

In the passage, I met Penelope hanging
about, and asked what she was waiting for.

She was waiting for her young lady's bell,
when her young lady chose to 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 a reason for wanting to
go to her aunt at Frizinghall, that the house
was unendurable to her, and that she could
bear the odious presence of a policeman under
the same roof with herself no longer. On being
informed, half an hour since, that her departure
would be delayed till two in the afternoon, she
had flown into a violent passion. My lady,
present at the time, had severely rebuked her,
and then (having apparently something to say,
which was reserved for her daughter's private
ear) had sent Penelope out of the room. My
girl was in wretchedly low spirits about the
changed state of things in the house. "Nothing
goes right, father; nothing is like what it used
to be. I feel as if some dreadful misfortune
was hanging over us all."

That was my feeling too. But I put a good
face on it, before my daughter. Miss Rachel's
bell rang while we were talking. Penelope ran
up the back stairs to go on with the packing.
I went by the other way to the 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 the servants' offices, it was
violently opened from the other side; and
Rosanna 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
in that quarter. "What's the matter, my girl?"
I asked, stopping her. "Are you ill?" "For
God's sake, don't speak to me," she answered,
and twisted herself out of my hands, and ran
on towards the servants' staircase. I called 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 the matter. I answered, "Nothing."
Mr. Franklin, on the other side, pulled open
the swing-door, and beckoning me into the hall,
inquired if I had seen anything of Rosanna
Spearman.

"She has just passed me, sir, with a very
disturbed face, and in a very odd 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 concerned in the loss of the
Diamond, I do really believe she was on the point
of confessing everything— to me, of all the
people in the world— not two minutes since."

Looking towards the swing-door, as he said
those last words, I fancied I saw 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
Sergeant Cuff's respectable black coat
disappearing round the corner of the passage. He
knew, as well as I did, that he could expect no
more help from me, now that I had discovered
the turn which his investigations were really
taking. Under those circumstances, it was quite
in his character to help himself, and to do it
by the underground way.

Not feeling sure that I had really seen the
Sergeant— and not desiring to make needless
mischief, where, Heaven knows, there was
mischief enough going on already— I told Mr.
Franklin that I thought one of the dogs had
got into the house— and then begged him to
describe what had happened between Rosanna
and himself.

"Were you passing through the hall, sir?" I
asked. "Did you meet her accidently, when
she spoke to you?"

Mr. Franklin pointed to the billiard-table.

"I was knocking the balls about," he said,
"and trying to get this miserable business of
the Diamond out of my mind. I happened to
look up— 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 what to do at first. Seeing a very anxious
expression in her face, I asked her if she wished
to speak to me. She answered, 'Yes, if I dare.'
Knowing what suspicion attached to her, I
could only put one construction on such
language as that. I confess it made me
uncomfortable. I had no wish to invite the girl's
confidence. At the same time, in the difficulties
that now beset us, I could hardly feel justified
in refusing to listen to her, if she was really
bent on speaking to me. It was an awkward
position; and I dare say I got out of it
awkwardly enough. I said to her, "I don't quite
understand you. Is there anything you want
me to do?" Mind, Betteredge, I didn't speak
unkindly! 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 made matters worse
still. I'm afraid I mortified her without meaning
it! She suddenly turned away. "He looks