The Moonstone - Page 131/404

"All right!" said the Sergeant to himself. He turned round to me. "It's

no time for whistling, Mr. Betteredge, as you say. It's time to take

this business in hand, now, without sparing anybody. We'll begin with

Rosanna Spearman. Where is Joyce?"

We both called for Joyce, and received no answer. I sent one of the

stable-boys to look for him.

"You heard what I said to Miss Verinder?" remarked the Sergeant, while

we were waiting. "And you saw how she received it? I tell her plainly

that her leaving us will be an obstacle in the way of my recovering her

Diamond--and she leaves, in the face of that statement! Your young

lady has got a travelling companion in her mother's carriage, Mr.

Betteredge--and the name of it is, the Moonstone."

I said nothing. I only held on like death to my belief in Miss Rachel.

The stable-boy came back, followed--very unwillingly, as it appeared to

me--by Joyce.

"Where is Rosanna Spearman?" asked Sergeant Cuff.

"I can't account for it, sir," Joyce began; "and I am very sorry. But

somehow or other----"

"Before I went to Frizinghall," said the Sergeant, cutting him short, "I

told you to keep your eyes on Rosanna Spearman, without allowing her

to discover that she was being watched. Do you mean to tell me that you

have let her give you the slip?"

"I am afraid, sir," says Joyce, beginning to tremble, "that I was

perhaps a little TOO careful not to let her discover me. There are such

a many passages in the lower parts of this house----"

"How long is it since you missed her?"

"Nigh on an hour since, sir."

"You can go back to your regular business at Frizinghall," said the

Sergeant, speaking just as composedly as ever, in his usual quiet and

dreary way. "I don't think your talents are at all in our line, Mr.

Joyce. Your present form of employment is a trifle beyond you. Good

morning."

The man slunk off. I find it very difficult to describe how I was

affected by the discovery that Rosanna Spearman was missing. I seemed

to be in fifty different minds about it, all at the same time. In that

state, I stood staring at Sergeant Cuff--and my powers of language quite

failed me.

"No, Mr. Betteredge," said the Sergeant, as if he had discovered the

uppermost thought in me, and was picking it out to be answered, before

all the rest. "Your young friend, Rosanna, won't slip through my fingers

so easy as you think. As long as I know where Miss Verinder is, I

have the means at my disposal of tracing Miss Verinder's accomplice. I

prevented them from communicating last night. Very good. They will get

together at Frizinghall, instead of getting together here. The present

inquiry must be simply shifted (rather sooner than I had anticipated)

from this house, to the house at which Miss Verinder is visiting. In the

meantime, I'm afraid I must trouble you to call the servants together

again."