The Thursday night passed, and nothing happened. With the Friday morning

came two pieces of news.

Item the first: the baker's man declared he had met Rosanna Spearman,

on the previous afternoon, with a thick veil on, walking towards

Frizinghall by the foot-path way over the moor. It seemed strange that

anybody should be mistaken about Rosanna, whose shoulder marked her out

pretty plainly, poor thing--but mistaken the man must have been; for

Rosanna, as you know, had been all the Thursday afternoon ill up-stairs

in her room.

Item the second came through the postman. Worthy Mr. Candy had said one

more of his many unlucky things, when he drove off in the rain on the

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birthday night, and told me that a doctor's skin was waterproof. In

spite of his skin, the wet had got through him. He had caught a chill

that night, and was now down with a fever. The last accounts, brought

by the postman, represented him to be light-headed--talking nonsense

as glibly, poor man, in his delirium as he often talked it in his

sober senses. We were all sorry for the little doctor; but Mr. Franklin

appeared to regret his illness, chiefly on Miss Rachel's account. From

what he said to my lady, while I was in the room at breakfast-time, he

appeared to think that Miss Rachel--if the suspense about the Moonstone

was not soon set at rest--might stand in urgent need of the best medical

advice at our disposal.

Breakfast had not been over long, when a telegram from Mr. Blake, the

elder, arrived, in answer to his son. It informed us that he had laid

hands (by help of his friend, the Commissioner) on the right man to

help us. The name of him was Sergeant Cuff; and the arrival of him from

London might be expected by the morning train.

At reading the name of the new police-officer, Mr. Franklin gave a

start. It seems that he had heard some curious anecdotes about Sergeant

Cuff, from his father's lawyer, during his stay in London.

"I begin to hope we are seeing the end of our anxieties already," he

said. "If half the stories I have heard are true, when it comes to

unravelling a mystery, there isn't the equal in England of Sergeant

Cuff!"

We all got excited and impatient as the time drew near for the

appearance of this renowned and capable character. Superintendent

Seegrave, returning to us at his appointed time, and hearing that the

Sergeant was expected, instantly shut himself up in a room, with pen,

ink, and paper, to make notes of the Report which would be certainly

expected from him. I should have liked to have gone to the station

myself, to fetch the Sergeant. But my lady's carriage and horses were

not to be thought of, even for the celebrated Cuff; and the pony-chaise

was required later for Mr. Godfrey. He deeply regretted being obliged to

leave his aunt at such an anxious time; and he kindly put off the hour

of his departure till as late as the last train, for the purpose of

hearing what the clever London police-officer thought of the case.

But on Friday night he must be in town, having a Ladies' Charity, in

difficulties, waiting to consult him on Saturday morning.




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