I put the letter into my pocket--and then asked for the Sergeant's opinion of the measures which we had taken at the bank.
"Very well intended, sir," he answered, "and quite the right thing to do.
But there was another person who ought to have been looked after besides Mr. Luker."
"The person named in the letter you have just given to me?"
"Yes, Mr. Blake, the person named in the letter.
It can't be helped now.
I shall have something to propose to you and Mr. Bruff, sir, when the time comes.
Let's wait, first, and see if the boy has anything to tell us that is worth hearing."
It was close on ten o'clock, and the boy had not made his appearance.
Sergeant Cuff talked of other matters.
He asked after his old friend Betteredge, and his old enemy the gardener.
In a minute more, he would no doubt have got from this, to the subject of his favourite roses, if my servant had not interrupted us by announcing that the boy was below.
On being brought into the room, Gooseberry stopped at the threshold of the door, and looked distrustfully at the stranger who was in my company.
I told the boy to come to me.
"You may speak before this gentleman," I said. "He is here to assist me; and he knows all that has happened.
Sergeant Cuff," I added, "this is the boy from Mr. Bruff's office."
In our modern system of civilisation, celebrity (no matter of what kind) is the lever that will move anything.
The fame of the great Cuff had even reached the ears of the small Gooseberry.
The boy's ill-fixed eyes rolled, when I mentioned the illustrious name, till I thought they really must have dropped on the carpet.
"Come here, my lad," said the Sergeant, "and let's hear what you have got to tell us."
The notice of the great man--the hero of many a famous story in every lawyer's office in London--appeared to fascinate the boy.
He placed himself in front of Sergeant Cuff, and put his hands behind him, after the approved fashion of a neophyte who is examined in his catechism.
"What is your name?" said the Sergeant, beginning with the first question in the catechism.
"Octavius Guy," answered the boy.
"They call me Gooseberry at the office because of my eyes."
"Octavius Guy, otherwise Gooseberry," pursued the Sergeant, with the utmost gravity, "you were missed at the bank yesterday.
What were you about?"
"If you please, sir, I was following a man."
"Who was he?"
"A tall man, sir, with a big black beard, dressed like a sailor."
"I remember the man!" I broke in.
"Mr. Bruff and I thought he was a spy employed by the Indians."
Sergeant Cuff did not appear to be much impressed by what Mr. Bruff and I had thought.
He went on catechising Gooseberry.
"Well?" he said--"and why did you follow the sailor?"
"If you please, sir, Mr. Bruff wanted to know whether Mr. Luker passed anything to anybody on his way out of the bank.
I saw Mr. Luker pass something to the sailor with the black beard."
"Why didn't you tell Mr. Bruff what you saw?"
"I hadn't time to tell anybody, sir, the sailor went out in such a hurry."
"And you ran out after him--eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Gooseberry," said the Sergeant, patting his head, "you have got something in that small skull of yours--and it isn't cotton-wool.
I am greatly pleased with you, so far."
The boy blushed with pleasure.
Sergeant Cuff went on.
"Well? and what did the sailor do, when he got into the street?"
"He called a cab, sir."
"And what did you do?"
"Held on behind, and run after it."
Before the Sergeant could put his next question, another visitor was announced--the head clerk from Mr. Bruff's office.