Such was Mr. Franklin's narrative of events at Frizinghall. The Indian
clue to the mystery of the lost jewel was now, to all appearance, a clue
that had broken in our hands. If the jugglers were innocent, who, in the
name of wonder, had taken the Moonstone out of Miss Rachel's drawer?
Ten minutes later, to our infinite relief; Superintendent Seegrave
arrived at the house. He reported passing Mr. Franklin on the terrace,
sitting in the sun (I suppose with the Italian side of him uppermost),
and warning the police, as they went by, that the investigation was
hopeless, before the investigation had begun.
For a family in our situation, the Superintendent of the Frizinghall
police was the most comforting officer you could wish to see. Mr.
Seegrave was tall and portly, and military in his manners. He had a
fine commanding voice, and a mighty resolute eye, and a grand frock-coat
which buttoned beautifully up to his leather stock. "I'm the man you
want!" was written all over his face; and he ordered his two inferior
police men about with a severity which convinced us all that there was
no trifling with HIM.
He began by going round the premises, outside and in; the result of that
investigation proving to him that no thieves had broken in upon us from
outside, and that the robbery, consequently, must have been committed by
some person in the house. I leave you to imagine the state the servants
were in when this official announcement first reached their ears. The
Superintendent decided to begin by examining the boudoir, and, that
done, to examine the servants next. At the same time, he posted one
of his men on the staircase which led to the servants' bedrooms, with
instructions to let nobody in the house pass him, till further orders.
At this latter proceeding, the weaker half of the human family went
distracted on the spot. They bounced out of their comers, whisked
up-stairs in a body to Miss Rachel's room (Rosanna Spearman being
carried away among them this time), burst in on Superintendent Seegrave,
and, all looking equally guilty, summoned him to say which of them he
suspected, at once.
Mr. Superintendent proved equal to the occasion; he looked at them with
his resolute eye, and he cowed them with his military voice.
"Now, then, you women, go down-stairs again, every one of you; I won't
have you here. Look!" says Mr. Superintendent, suddenly pointing to a
little smear of the decorative painting on Miss Rachel's door, at the
outer edge, just under the lock. "Look what mischief the petticoats of
some of you have done already. Clear out! clear out!" Rosanna Spearman,
who was nearest to him, and nearest to the little smear on the door,
set the example of obedience, and slipped off instantly to her work. The
rest followed her out. The Superintendent finished his examination of
the room, and, making nothing of it, asked me who had first discovered
the robbery. My daughter had first discovered it. My daughter was sent
for.