Betteredge,
to be doubted to my face by a low police-officer!" Rosanna Spearman went
next. Remained longer than any of them. No report on coming out--dead
silence, and lips as pale as ashes. Samuel, the footman, followed
Rosanna. Remained a minute or two. Report, on coming out: "Whoever
blacks Sergeant Cuff's boots ought to be ashamed of himself." Nancy,
the kitchen-maid, went last. Remained a minute or two. Report, on coming
out: "Sergeant Cuff has a heart; HE doesn't cut jokes, Mr. Betteredge,
with a poor hard-working girl."
Going into the Court of Justice, when it was all over, to hear if
there were any further commands for me, I found the Sergeant at his old
trick--looking out of window, and whistling "The Last Rose of Summer" to
himself.
"Any discoveries, sir?" I inquired.
"If Rosanna Spearman asks leave to go out," said the Sergeant, "let the
poor thing go; but let me know first."
I might as well have held my tongue about Rosanna and Mr. Franklin! It
was plain enough; the unfortunate girl had fallen under Sergeant Cuff's
suspicions, in spite of all I could do to prevent it.
"I hope you don't think Rosanna is concerned in the loss of the
Diamond?" I ventured to say.
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