On our way to the house, this morning, he consulted me, with some

nervous impatience and irresolution, about a letter (forwarded to him

from London) which he had received from Sergeant Cuff.

The Sergeant writes from Ireland. He acknowledges the receipt (through

his housekeeper) of a card and message which Mr. Blake left at his

residence near Dorking, and announces his return to England as likely

to take place in a week or less. In the meantime, he requests to be

favoured with Mr. Blake's reasons for wishing to speak to him (as

stated in the message) on the subject of the Moonstone. If Mr. Blake

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can convict him of having made any serious mistake, in the course of his

last year's inquiry concerning the Diamond, he will consider it a duty

(after the liberal manner in which he was treated by the late Lady

Verinder) to place himself at that gentleman's disposal. If not, he

begs permission to remain in his retirement, surrounded by the peaceful

horticultural attractions of a country life.

After reading the letter, I had no hesitation in advising Mr. Blake

to inform Sergeant Cuff, in reply, of all that had happened since

the inquiry was suspended last year, and to leave him to draw his own

conclusions from the plain facts.

On second thoughts I also suggested inviting the Sergeant to be present

at the experiment, in the event of his returning to England in time to

join us. He would be a valuable witness to have, in any case; and, if I

proved to be wrong in believing the Diamond to be hidden in Mr. Blake's

room, his advice might be of great importance, at a future stage of

the proceedings over which I could exercise no control. This last

consideration appeared to decide Mr. Blake. He promised to follow my

advice.

The sound of the hammer informed us that the work of re-furnishing was

in full progress, as we entered the drive that led to the house.

Betteredge, attired for the occasion in a fisherman's red cap, and an

apron of green baize, met us in the outer hall. The moment he saw me,

he pulled out the pocket-book and pencil, and obstinately insisted on

taking notes of everything that I said to him. Look where we might, we

found, as Mr. Blake had foretold that the work was advancing as rapidly

and as intelligently as it was possible to desire. But there was still

much to be done in the inner hall, and in Miss Verinder's room. It

seemed doubtful whether the house would be ready for us before the end

of the week.




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