This news--by closing up all prospect of my bringing Limping Lucy and Mr.Franklin together--at once stopped any further progress of mine on the way to discovery.Penelope's belief that her fellow-servant had destroyed herself through unrequited love for Mr.Franklin Blake, was confirmed--and that was all.Whether the letter which Rosanna had left to be given to him after her death did, or did not, contain the confession which Mr.Franklin had suspected her of trying to make to him in her lifetime, it was impossible to say.It might be only a farewell word, telling nothing but the secret of her unhappy fancy for a person beyond her reach.Or it might own the whole truth about the strange proceedings in which Sergeant Cuff had detected her, from the time when the Moonstone was lost, to the time when she rushed to her own destruction at the Shivering Sand.A sealed letter it had been placed in Limping Lucy's hands, and a sealed letter it remained to me and to everyone about the girl, her own parents included.We all suspected her of having been in the dead woman's confidence; we all tried to make her speak; we all failed.Now one, and now another, of the servants--still holding to the belief that Rosanna had stolen the Diamond and had hidden it--peered and poked about the rocks to which she had been traced, and peered and poked in vain.The tide ebbed, and the tide flowed; the summer went on, and the autumn came.And the Quicksand, which hid her body, hid her secret too.
The news of Mr.Franklin's departure from England on the Sunday morning, and the news of my lady's arrival in London with Miss Rachel on the Monday afternoon, had reached me, as you are aware, by the Tuesday's post.The Wednesday came, and brought nothing.The Thursday produced a second budget of news from Penelope.
My girl's letter informed me that some great London doctor had been consulted about her young lady, and had earned a guinea by remarking that she had better be amused.Flower-shows, operas, balls--there was a whole round of gaieties in prospect; and Miss Rachel, to her mother's astonishment, eagerly took it all.Mr.Godfrey had called; evidently as sweet as ever on his cousin, in spite of the reception he had met with, when he tried his luck on the occasion of the birthday.To Penelope's great regret, he had been most graciously received, and had added Miss Rachel's name to one of his Ladies' Charities on the spot.My mistress was reported to be out of spirits, and to have held two long interviews with her lawyer.Certain speculations followed, referring to a poor relation of the family--one Miss Clack, whom I have mentioned in my account of the birthday dinner, as sitting next to Mr.Godfrey, and having a pretty taste in champagne.
Penelope was astonished to find that Miss Clack had not called yet.She would surely not be long before she fastened herself on my lady as usual--and so forth, and so forth, in the way women have of girding at each other, on and off paper.This would not have been worth mentioning, I admit, but for one reason.I hear you are likely to be turned over to Miss Clack, after parting with me.In that case, just do me the favour of not believing a word she says, if she speaks of your humble servant.
On Friday, nothing happened--except that one of the dogs showed signs of a breaking out behind the ears.I gave him a dose of syrup of buckthorn, and put him on a diet of pot-liquor and vegetables till further orders.
Excuse my mentioning this.It has slipped in somehow.Pass it over please.
I am fast coming to the end of my offences against your cultivated modern taste.Besides, the dog was a good creature, and deserved a good physicking;he did indeed.
Saturday, the last day of the week, is also the last day in my narrative.
The morning's post brought me a surprise in the shape of a London newspaper.
The handwriting on the direction puzzled me.I compared it with the money-lender's name and address as recorded in my pocket-book, and identified it at once as the writing of Sergeant Cuff.
Looking through the paper eagerly enough, after this discovery, I found an ink-mark drawn round one of the police reports.Here it is, at your service.Read it as I read it, and you will set the right value on the Sergeant's polite attention in sending me the news of the day:
`L AMBETH -- Shortly before the closing of the court, Mr.Septimus Luker, the well-known dealer in ancient gems, carvings, intagli, &c., &c., applied to the sitting magistrate for advice.The applicant stated that he had been annoyed, at intervals throughout the day, by the proceedings of some of those strolling Indians who infest the streets.
