"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 bed-chamber that was prepared for
him? I went up-stairs 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 to-night. 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."