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 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
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