“Good-night, Mr. Betteredge,” he said. “And mind, if you ever take to growing roses, the white moss rose is all the better for not being budded on the dog-rose, whatever the gardener may say to the contrary!”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Why are you not in your proper bed?”
“I am not in my proper bed,” answered the Sergeant, “because I am one of the many people in this miserable world who can’t earn their money honestly and easily at the same time. There was a coincidence, this evening, between the period of Rosanna Spearman’s return from the Sands and the period when Miss Verinder stated her resolution to leave the house. Whatever Rosanna may have hidden, it’s clear to my mind that your young lady couldn’t go away until she knew that it was hidden. The two must have communicated privately once already tonight. If they try to communicate again, when the house is quiet, I want to be in the way, and stop it. Don’t blame me for upsetting your sleeping arrangements, Mr. Betteredge—blame the Diamond.”
“I wish to God the Diamond had never found its way into this house!” I broke out.
Sergeant Cuff looked with a rueful face at the three chairs on which he had condemned himself to pass the night.
“So do I,” he said, gravely.
CHAPTER XVII
Nothing happened in the night; and (I am happy to add) no attempt at communication between Miss Rachel and Rosanna rewarded the vigilance of Sergeant Cuff.
I had expected the Sergeant to set off for Frizinghall the first thing in the morning. He waited about, however, as if he had something else to do first. I left him to his own devices; and going into the grounds shortly after, met Mr. Franklin on his favourite walk by the shrubbery side.
Before we had exchanged two words, the Sergeant unexpectedly joined us. He made up to Mr. Franklin, who received him, I must own, haughtily enough. “Have you anything to say to me?” was all the return he got for politely wishing Mr. Franklin good morning.