"Do you mean to tell me, in plain English," I said, "that Miss Rachel has stolen her own Diamond?"
"Yes," says the Sergeant; "that is what I mean to tell you, in so many words.
Miss Verinder has been in secret possession of the Moonstone from first to last; and she has taken Rosanna Spearman into her confidence, because she has calculated on our suspecting Rosanna Spearman of the theft.
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 me your reasons!" That was all I could say to him.
"You shall hear my reasons to-morrow," said the Sergeant. "If Miss Verinder refuses to put off her visit to her aunt (which you will find Miss Verinder will do), I shall be obliged to lay the whole case before your mistress to-morrow.
And, as I don't know what may come of it, I shall 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 a word more on the subject of the Moonstone out of me.
There is your table spread for supper.
That's one of the many human infirmities which I always treat tenderly.
If you will ring the bell, I'll say grace.
'For what we are going to receive----'"
"I wish you a good appetite to it, Sergeant," I said.
"My appetite is gone.
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 been sorry if the best of everything had choked him. The head gardener (Mr. Begbie) came in at the same time, with his weekly account. The Sergeant got on the subject of roses and the merits of grass walks and gravel walks immediately. I left the two together, and went out with a heavy heart. This was the first trouble I remember for many a long year which wasn't to be blown off by a whiff of tobacco, and which was even beyond the reach of ROBINSON CRUSOE.
Being restless and miserable, and having no particular room to go to, I took a turn on the terrace, and thought it over in peace and quietness by myself. It doesn't much matter what my thoughts were. I felt wretchedly old, and worn out, and unfit for my place--and began to wonder, for the first time in my life, when it would please God to take me. With all this, I held firm, notwithstanding, to my belief in Miss Rachel. If Sergeant Cuff had been Solomon in all his glory, and had told me that my young lady had mixed herself up in a mean and guilty plot, I should have had but one answer for Solomon, wise as he was, "You don't know her; and I do."
My meditations were interrupted by Samuel. He brought me a written message from my mistress.
Going into the house to get a light to read it by, Samuel remarked that there seemed a change coming in the weather.
My troubled mind had prevented me from noticing it before.
But, now my attention was roused, I heard the dogs uneasy, and the wind moaning low.
Looking up at the sky, I saw the rack of clouds getting blacker and blacker, and hurrying faster and faster over a watery moon.
Wild weather coming--Samuel was right, wild weather coming.
The message from my lady informed me, that the magistrate at Frizinghall had written to remind her about the three Indians.
Early in the coming week, the rogues must needs be released, and left free to follow their own devices.
If we had any more questions to ask them, there was no time to lose.
Having forgotten to mention this, when she had last seen Sergeant Cuff, my mistress now desired me to supply the omission.
The Indians had gone clean out of my head (as they have, no doubt, gone clean out of yours).
I didn't see much use in stirring that subject again.
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 whisky between them, head over ears in an argument on the growing of roses. The Sergeant was so deeply interested that he held up his hand, and signed to me not to interrupt the discussion, when I came in. As far as I could understand it, the question between them was, whether the white moss rose did, or did not, require to be budded on the dog-rose to make it grow well. Mr. Begbie said, Yes; and Sergeant Cuff said, No. They appealed to me, as hotly as a couple of boys. Knowing nothing whatever about the growing of roses, I steered a middle course--just as her Majesty's judges do, when the scales of justice bother them by hanging even to a hair. "Gentlemen," I remarked, "there is much to be said on both sides." In the temporary lull produced by that impartial sentence, I laid my lady's written message on the table, under the eyes of Sergeant Cuff.
I had got by this time, as nearly as might be, to hate the Sergeant.
But truth 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 into his memory for Superintendent Seegrave's report; had picked out that part of it in which the Indians were concerned; and was ready with his answer.
A certain great traveller, who understood the Indians and their language, had figured in Mr. Seegrave's report, hadn't he?
Very well.
Did I know the gentleman's name and address?
Very well again.
Would I 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 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.