The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (best books to read non fiction TXT) 📕
Read free book «The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (best books to read non fiction TXT) 📕» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Wilkie Collins
Read book online «The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (best books to read non fiction TXT) 📕». Author - Wilkie Collins
After what had passed between the Sergeant and me, I knew what it was that he had left unspoken as well as he knew it himself.
Nothing but the tracing of the Moonstone to our second housemaid could now raise Miss Rachel above the infamous suspicion that rested on her in the mind of Sergeant Cuff. It was no longer a question of quieting my young lady’s nervous excitement; it was a question of proving her innocence. If Rosanna had done nothing to compromise herself, the hope which Mr. Franklin confessed to having felt would have been hard enough on her in all conscience. But this was not the case. She had pretended to be ill, and had gone secretly to Frizinghall. She had been up all night, making something or destroying something, in private. And she had been at the Shivering Sand, that evening, under circumstances which were highly suspicious, to say the least of them. For all these reasons (sorry as I was for Rosanna) I could not but think that Mr. Franklin’s way of looking at the matter was neither unnatural nor unreasonable, in Mr. Franklin’s position. I said a word to him to that effect.
“Yes, yes!” he said in return. “But there is just a chance—a very poor one, certainly—that Rosanna’s conduct may admit of some explanation which we don’t see at present. I hate hurting a woman’s feelings, Betteredge! Tell the poor creature what I told you to tell her. And if she wants to speak to me—I don’t care whether I get into a scrape or not—send her to me in the library.” With those kind words he laid down the cue and left me.
Inquiry at the servants’ offices informed me that Rosanna had retired to her own room. She had declined all offers of assistance with thanks, and had only asked to be left to rest in quiet. Here, therefore, was an end of any confession on her part (supposing she really had a confession to make) for that night. I reported the result to Mr. Franklin, who, thereupon, left the library, and went up to bed.
I was putting the lights out, and making the windows fast, when Samuel came in with news of the two guests whom I had left in my room.
The argument about the white moss rose had apparently come to an end at last. The gardener had gone home, and Sergeant Cuff was nowhere to be found in the lower regions of the house.
I looked into my room. Quite true—nothing was to be discovered there but a couple of empty tumblers and a strong smell of hot grog. Had the Sergeant gone of his own accord to the bedchamber that was prepared for him? I went upstairs to see.
After reaching the second landing, I thought I heard a sound of quiet and regular breathing on my left-hand side. My left-hand side led to the corridor which communicated with Miss Rachel’s room. I looked in, and there, coiled up on three chairs placed right across the passage—there, with a red handkerchief tied round his grizzled head, and his respectable black coat rolled up for a pillow, lay and slept Sergeant Cuff!
He woke, instantly and quietly, like a dog, the moment I approached him.
“Good-night, Mr. Betteredge,” he said. “And mind, if you ever take to growing roses, the white moss rose is all the better for not being budded on the dog-rose, whatever the gardener may say to the contrary!”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Why are you not in your proper bed?”
“I am not in my proper bed,” answered the Sergeant, “because I am one of the many people in this miserable world who can’t earn their money honestly and easily at the same time. There was a coincidence, this evening, between the period of Rosanna Spearman’s return from the Sands and the period when Miss Verinder stated her resolution to leave the house. Whatever Rosanna may have hidden, it’s clear to my mind that your young lady couldn’t go away until she knew that it was hidden. The two must have communicated privately once already tonight. If they try to communicate again, when the house is quiet, I want to be in the way, and stop it. Don’t blame me for upsetting your sleeping arrangements, Mr. Betteredge—blame the Diamond.”
“I wish to God the Diamond had never found its way into this house!” I broke out.
Sergeant Cuff looked with a rueful face at the three chairs on which he had condemned himself to pass the night.
“So do I,” he said, gravely.
Nothing happened in the night; and (I am happy to add) no attempt at communication between Miss Rachel and Rosanna rewarded the vigilance of Sergeant Cuff.
I had expected the Sergeant to set off for Frizinghall the first thing in the morning. He waited about, however, as if he had something else to do first. I left him to his own devices; and going into the grounds shortly after, met Mr. Franklin on his favourite walk by the shrubbery side.
Before we had exchanged two words, the Sergeant unexpectedly joined us. He made up to Mr. Franklin, who received him, I must own, haughtily enough. “Have you anything to say to me?” was all the return he got for politely wishing Mr. Franklin good morning.
“I have something to say to you, sir,” answered the Sergeant, “on the subject of the inquiry I am conducting here. You detected the turn that inquiry was really taking, yesterday. Naturally enough, in your position, you are shocked and distressed. Naturally enough, also, you visit your own angry sense of your own family scandal upon Me.”
“What do you want?” Mr. Franklin broke in, sharply enough.
“I want to remind you, sir, that I have at any rate, thus far, not been proved to be wrong. Bearing that in mind, be pleased to remember, at the same time, that I am an officer of the law acting here under the sanction of the mistress of the house. Under these circumstances, is it, or is it not, your duty as a good citizen, to assist me with any special information which you may happen to possess?”
“I possess no special information,” says Mr. Franklin.
Sergeant Cuff put that answer by him, as if no answer had been made.
“You may save my time, sir, from being wasted on an inquiry at a distance,” he went on, “if you choose to understand me and speak out.”
“I don’t understand you,” answered Mr. Franklin; “and I have nothing to say.”
“One of the female servants (I won’t mention names) spoke to you privately, sir, last night.”
Once more Mr. Franklin cut him short; once more Mr. Franklin answered, “I have nothing to say.”
Standing by in silence, I thought of the movement in the swing-door on the previous evening, and of the coat-tails which I had seen disappearing down the passage. Sergeant Cuff had, no doubt, just heard enough, before I interrupted him, to make him suspect that Rosanna had relieved her mind by confessing something to Mr. Franklin Blake.
This notion had barely struck me—when who should appear at the end of the shrubbery walk but Rosanna Spearman in her own proper person! She was followed by Penelope, who was evidently trying to make her retrace her steps to the house. Seeing that Mr. Franklin was not alone, Rosanna came to a standstill, evidently in great perplexity what to do next. Penelope waited behind her. Mr. Franklin saw the girls as soon as I saw them. The Sergeant, with his devilish cunning, took on not to have noticed them at all. All this happened in an instant. Before either Mr. Franklin or I could say a word, Sergeant Cuff struck in smoothly, with an appearance of continuing the previous conversation.
“You needn’t be afraid of harming the girl, sir,” he said to Mr. Franklin, speaking in a loud voice, so that Rosanna might hear him. “On the contrary, I recommend you to honour me with your confidence, if you feel any interest in Rosanna Spearman.”
Mr. Franklin instantly took on not to have noticed the girls either. He answered, speaking loudly on his side:
“I take no interest whatever in Rosanna Spearman.”
I looked towards the end of the walk. All I saw at the distance was that Rosanna suddenly turned round, the moment Mr. Franklin had spoken. Instead of resisting Penelope, as she had done the moment before, she now let my daughter take her by the arm and lead her back to the house.
The breakfast-bell rang as the two girls disappeared—and even Sergeant Cuff was now obliged to give it up as a bad job! He said to me quietly, “I shall go to Frizinghall, Mr. Betteredge; and I shall be back before two.” He went his way without a word more—and for some few hours we were well rid of him.
“You must make it right with Rosanna,” Mr. Franklin said to me, when we were alone. “I seem to be fated to say or do something awkward, before that unlucky girl. You must have seen yourself that Sergeant Cuff laid a trap for both of us. If he could confuse me, or irritate her into breaking out, either she or I might have said something which would answer his purpose. On the spur of the moment, I saw no better way out of it than the way I took. It stopped the girl from saying anything, and it showed the Sergeant that I saw through him. He was evidently listening, Betteredge, when I was speaking to you last night.”
He had done worse than listen, as I privately thought to myself. He had remembered my telling him that the girl was in love with Mr. Franklin; and he had calculated on that, when he appealed to Mr. Franklin’s interest in Rosanna—in Rosanna’s hearing.
“As to listening, sir,” I remarked (keeping the other point to myself), “we shall all be rowing in the same boat if this sort of thing goes on much longer. Prying, and peeping, and listening are the natural occupations of people situated as we are. In another day or two, Mr. Franklin, we shall all be struck dumb together—for this reason, that we shall all be listening to surprise each other’s secrets, and all know it. Excuse my breaking out, sir. The horrid mystery hanging over us in this house gets into my head like liquor, and makes me wild. I won’t forget what you have told me. I’ll take the first opportunity of making it right with Rosanna Spearman.”
“You haven’t said anything to her yet about last night, have you?” Mr. Franklin asked.
“No, sir.”
“Then say nothing now. I had better not invite the girl’s confidence, with the Sergeant on the look-out to surprise us together. My conduct is not very consistent, Betteredge—is it? I see no way out of this business, which isn’t dreadful to think of, unless the Diamond is traced to Rosanna. And yet I can’t, and won’t, help Sergeant Cuff to find the girl out.”
Unreasonable enough, no doubt. But it was my state of mind as well. I thoroughly understood him. If you will, for once in your life,
Comments (0)