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Collins, Wilkie, 1824-1889

"The Moonstone"

I stopped Rosanna Spearman, and charged her with a
breach of domestic discipline on the spot.
"What might you want in the library at this time of day?" I inquired.
"Mr. Franklin Blake dropped one of his rings up-stairs," says Rosanna;
"and I have been into the library to give it to him." The girl's face
was all in a flush as she made me that answer; and she walked away with
a toss of her head and a look of self-importance which I was quite at
a loss to account for. The proceedings in the house had doubtless upset
all the women-servants more or less; but none of them had gone clean out
of their natural characters, as Rosanna, to all appearance, had now gone
out of hers.
I found Mr. Franklin writing at the library-table. He asked for a
conveyance to the railway station the moment I entered the room. The
first sound of his voice informed me that we now had the resolute side
of him uppermost once more. The man made of cotton had disappeared; and
the man made of iron sat before me again.
"Going to London, sir?" I asked.
"Going to telegraph to London," says Mr. Franklin. "I have convinced my
aunt that we must have a cleverer head than Superintendent Seegrave's
to help us; and I have got her permission to despatch a telegram to my
father.


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