The Moonstone

ound my lady in her own sitting room. She started and looked annoyed
when I mentioned that Sergeant Cuff wished to speak to her.

“Must I see him?” she asked. “Can’t you represent me, Gabriel?”

I felt at a loss to understand this, and showed it plainly, I suppose,
in my face. My lady was so good as to explain herself.

“I am afraid my nerves are a little shaken,” she said. “There is
something in that police-officer from London which I recoil from—I
don’t know why. I have a presentiment that he is bringing trouble and
misery with him into the house. Very foolish, and very unlike me—but
so it is.”

I hardly knew what to say to this. The more I saw of Sergeant Cuff, the
better I liked him. My lady rallied a little after having opened her
heart to me—being, naturally, a woman of a high courage, as I have
already told you.

“If I must see him, I must,” she said. “But I can’t prevail on myself
to see him alone. Bring him in, Gabriel, and stay here as long as he
stays.”

This was the first attack of the megrims that I remembered in my
mistress since the time when she was a young girl. I went back to the
“boudoir.” Mr. Franklin strolled out into the garden, and joined Mr.
Godfrey, whose time for departure was now drawing near. Sergeant Cuff
and I went straight to my mistress’s room.

I declare my lady turned a shade paler at the sight of him! She
commanded herself, however, in other respects, and asked the Sergeant
if he had any objection to my being present. She was so good as to add,
that I was her trusted adviser, as well as her old servant, and that in
anything which related to the household I was the person whom it might
be most profitable to consult. The Sergeant politely answered that he
would take my presence as a favour, having something to say about the
servants in general, and having found my experience in that quarter
already of some use to him. My lady pointed to two chairs, and we set
in for our conference immediately.

“I have already formed an opinion on this case,” says Sergeant Cuff,
“which I beg your ladyship’s permission to keep to myself for the
present. My business now is to mention what I have discovered upstairs
in Miss Verinder’s sitting-room, and what I have decided (with your
ladyship’s leave) on doing next.”

He then went into the matter of the smear on the paint, and stated the
conclusions he drew from it—just as he had stated them (only with
greater respect of language) to Superintendent Seegrave. “One thing,”
he said, in conclusion, “is certain. The Diamond is missing out of the
drawer in the cabinet. Another thing is next to certain. The marks from
the smear on the door must be on some article of dress belonging to
somebody in this house. We must discover that article of dress before
we go a step further.”

“And that discovery,” remarked my mistress, “implies, I presume, the
discovery of the thief?”

“I beg your ladyship’s pardon—I don’t say the Diamond is stolen. I only
say, at present, that the Diamond is missing. The discovery of the
stained dress may lead the way to finding it.”

Her ladyship looked at me. “Do you understand this?” she said.

“Sergeant Cuff understands it, my lady,” I answered.

“How do you propose to discover the stained dress?” inquired my
mistress, addressing herself once more to the Sergeant. “My good
servants, who have been with me for years, have, I am ashamed to say,
had their boxes and rooms searched already by the other officer. I
can’t and won’t permit them to be insulted in that way a second time!”

(There was a mistress to serve! There was a woman in ten thousand, if
you like!)

“That is the very point I was about to put to your ladyship,” said the
Sergeant. “The other officer has done a world of harm to this inquiry,
by letting the servants see that he suspected them. If I give them
cause to think themselves suspected a second time, there’s no knowing
what obstacles they may not throw in my way—the women especially. At
the same time, their boxes must be searched again—for this plain
reason, that the first investigation only looked for the Diamond, and
that the second investigation must look for the stained dress. I quite
agree with you, my lady, that the servants’ feelings ought to be
consulted. But I am equally clear that the servants’ wardrobes ought to
be searched.”

This looked very like a dead-lock. My lady said so, in choicer language
than mine.

“I have got a plan to meet the difficulty,” said Sergeant Cuff, “if
your ladyship will consent to it. I propose explaining the case to the
servants.”

“The women will think themselves suspected directly,” I said,
interrupting him.

“The women won’t, Mr. Betteredge,” answered the Sergeant, “if I can
tell them I am going to examine the wardrobes of everybody—from her
ladyship downwards—who slept in the house on Wednesday night. It’s a
mere formality,” he added, with a side look at my mistress; “but the
servants will accept it as even dealing between them and their betters;
and, instead of hindering the investigation, they will make a point of
honour of assisting it.”

I saw the truth of that. My lady, after her first surprise was over,
saw the truth of it also.

“You are certain the investigation is necessary?” she said.

“It’s the shortest way that I can see, my lady, to the end we have in
view.”

My mistress rose to ring the bell for her maid. “You shall speak to the
servants,” she said, “with the keys of my wardrobe in your hand.”

Sergeant Cuff stopped her by a very unexpected question.

“Hadn’t we better make sure first,” he asked, “that the other ladies
and gentlemen in the house will consent, too?”

“The only other lady in the house is Miss Verinder,” answered my
mistress, with a look of surprise. “The only gentlemen are my nephews,
Mr. Blake and Mr. Ablewhite. There is not the least fear of a refusal
from any of the three.”

I reminded my lady here that Mr. Godfrey was going away. As I said the
words, Mr. Godfrey himself knocked at the door to say good-bye, and was
followed in by Mr. Franklin, who was going with him to the station. My
lady explained the difficulty. Mr. Godfrey settled it directly. He
called to Samuel, through the window, to take his portmanteau upstairs
again, and he then put the key himself into Sergeant Cuff’s hand. “My
luggage can follow me to London,” he said, “when the inquiry is over.”
The Sergeant received the key with a becoming apology. “I am sorry to
put you to any inconvenience, sir, for a mere formality; but the
example of their betters will do wonders in reconciling the servants to
this inquiry.” Mr. Godfrey, after taking leave of my lady, in a most
sympathising manner, left a farewell message for Miss Rachel, the terms
of which made it clear to my mind that he had not taken No for an
answer, and that he meant to put the marriage question to her once
more, at the next opportunity. Mr. Franklin, on following his cousin
out, informed the Sergeant that all his clothes were open to
examination, and that nothing he possessed was kept under lock and key.
Sergeant Cuff made his best acknowledgments. His views, you will
observe, had been met with the utmost readiness by my lady, by Mr.
Godfrey, and by Mr. Franklin. There was only Miss. Rachel now wanting
to follow their lead, before we called the servants together, and began
the search for the stained dress.

My lady’s unaccountable objection to the Sergeant seemed to make our
conference more distasteful to her than ever, as soon as we were left
alone again. “If I send you down Miss Verinder’s keys,” she said to
him, “I presume I shall have done all you want of me for the present?”

“I beg your ladyship’s pardon,” said Sergeant Cuff. “Before we begin, I
should like, if convenient, to have the washing-book. The stained
article of dress may be an article of linen. If the search leads to
nothing, I want to be able to account next for all the linen in the
house, and for all the linen sent to the wash. If there is an article
missing, there will be at least a presumption that it has got the
paint-stain on it, and that it has been purposely made away with,
yesterday or today, by the person owning it. Superintendent Seegrave,”
added the Sergeant, turning to me, “pointed the attention of the
women-servants to the smear, when they all crowded into the room on
Thursday morning. That may turn out, Mr. Betteredge, to have been one
more of Superintendent Seegrave’s many mistakes.”

My lady desired me to ring the bell, and order the washing-book. She
remained with us until it was produced, in case Sergeant Cuff had any
further request to make of her after looking at it.

The washing-book was brought in by Rosanna Spearman. The girl had come
down to breakfast that morning miserably pale and haggard, but
sufficiently recovered from her illness of the previous day to do her
usual work. Sergeant Cuff looked attentively at our second housemaid—at
her face, when she came in; at her crooked shoulder, when she went out.

“Have you anything more to say to me?” asked my lady, still as eager as
ever to be out of the Sergeant’s society.

The great Cuff opened the washing-book, understood it perfectly in half
a minute, and shut it up again. “I venture to trouble your ladyship
with one last question,” he said. “Has the young woman who brought us
this book been in your employment as long as the other servants?”

“Why do you ask?” said my lady.

“The last time I saw her,” answered the Sergeant, “she was in prison
for theft.”

After that, there was no help for it, but to tell him the truth. My
mistress dwelt strongly on Rosanna’s good conduct in her service, and
on the high opinion entertained of her by the matron at the
Reformatory. “You don’t suspect her, I hope?” my lady added, in
conclusion, very earnestly.

“I have already told your ladyship that I don’t suspect any person in
the house of thieving—up to the present time.”

After that answer, my lady rose to go upstairs, and ask for Miss
Rachel’s keys. The Sergeant was beforehand with me in opening the door
for her. He made a very low bow. My lady shuddered as she passed him.

We waited, and waited, and no keys appeared. Sergeant Cuff made no
remark to me. He turned his melancholy face to the window; he put his
lanky hands into his pockets; and he whistled “The Last Rose of Summer”
softly to himself.

At last, Samuel came in, not with the keys, but with a morsel of paper
for me. I got at my spectacles, with some fumbling and difficulty,
feeling the Sergeant’s dismal eyes fixed on me all the time. There were
two or three lines on the paper, written in pencil by my lady. They
informed me that Miss Rachel flatly refused to have her wardrobe
examined. Asked for her reasons, she had burst out crying. Asked again,
she had said: “I won’t, because I won’t. I must yield to force if you
use it, but I will yield to nothing else.” I understood my lady’s
disinclination to face Sergeant Cuff with such an answer from her
daughter as that. If I had not been too old for the amiable weaknesses
of youth, I believe I should have blushed at the notion of facing him
myself.

“Any news of Miss Verinder’s keys?” asked the Sergeant.

“My young lady refuses to have her wardrobe examined.”

“Ah!” said the Sergeant.

His voice was not quite in such a perfect state of discipline as his
face. When he said “Ah!” he said it in the tone of a man who had heard
something which he expected to hear. He half angered and half
frightened me—why, I couldn’t tell, but he did it.

“Must the search be given up?” I asked.

“Yes,” said the Sergeant, “the search must be given up, because your
young lady refuses to submit to it like the rest. We must examine all
the wardrobes in the house or none. Send Mr. Ablewhite’s portmanteau to
London by the next train, and return the washing-book, with my
compliments and thanks, to the young woman who brought it in.”

He laid the washing-book on the table, and taking out his penknife,
began to trim his nails.

“You don’t seem to be much disappointed,” I said.

“No,” said Sergeant Cuff; “I am not much disappointed.”

I tried to make him explain himself.

“Why should Miss Rachel put an obstacle in your way?” I inquired.
“Isn’t it her interest to help you?”

“Wait a little, Mr. Betteredge—wait a little.”

Cleverer heads than mine might have seen his drift. Or a person less
fond of Miss Rachel than I was, might have seen his drift. My lady’s
horror of him might (as I have since thought) have meant that she saw
his drift (as the scripture says) “in a glass darkly.” I didn’t see it
yet—that’s all I know.

“What’s to be done next?” I asked.

Sergeant Cuff finished the nail on which he was then at work, looked at
it for a moment with a melancholy interest, and put up his penknife.

“Come out into the garden,” he said, “and let’s have a look at the
roses.”