That was my feeling too. But I put a good face on it, before my
daughter. Miss Rachel's bell rang while we were talking. Penelope ran
up the back stairs to go on with the packing. I went by the other way to
the hall, to see what the glass said about the change in the weather.
Just as I approached the swing-door leading into the hall from the
servants' offices, it was violently opened from the other side, and
Rosanna Spearman ran by me, with a miserable look of pain in her face,
and one of her hands pressed hard over her heart, as if the pang was in
that quarter. "What's the matter, my girl?" I asked, stopping her. "Are
you ill?" "For God's sake, don't speak to me," she answered, and twisted
herself out of my hands, and ran on towards the servants' staircase. I
called to the cook (who was within hearing) to look after the poor girl.
Two other persons proved to be within hearing, as well as the cook.
Sergeant Cuff darted softly out of my room, and asked what was the
matter. I answered, "Nothing." Mr. Franklin, on the other side, pulled
open the swing-door, and beckoning me into the hall, inquired if I had
seen anything of Rosanna Spearman.
"She has just passed me, sir, with a very disturbed face, and in a very
odd manner."
"I am afraid I am innocently the cause of that disturbance, Betteredge."
"You, sir!"
"I can't explain it," says Mr. Franklin; "but, if the girl IS concerned
in the loss of the Diamond, I do really believe she was on the point of
confessing everything--to me, of all the people in the world--not two
minutes since."
Looking towards the swing-door, as he said those last words, I fancied I
saw it opened a little way from the inner side.
Was there anybody listening? The door fell to, before I could get to it.
Looking through, the moment after, I thought I saw the tails of Sergeant
Cuff's respectable black coat disappearing round the corner of the
passage. He knew, as well as I did, that he could expect no more help
from me, now that I had discovered the turn which his investigations
were really taking. Under those circumstances, it was quite in his
character to help himself, and to do it by the underground way.
Not feeling sure that I had really seen the Sergeant--and not desiring
to make needless mischief, where, Heaven knows, there was mischief
enough going on already--I told Mr. Franklin that I thought one of the
dogs had got into the house--and then begged him to describe what had
happened between Rosanna and himself.
"Were you passing through the hall, sir?" I asked. "Did you meet her
accidentally, when she spoke to you?"