Do you mean to tell me that you
have let her give you the slip?"
"I am afraid, sir," says Joyce, beginning to tremble, "that I was
perhaps a little TOO careful not to let her discover me. There are such
a many passages in the lower parts of this house----"
"How long is it since you missed her?"
"Nigh on an hour since, sir."
"You can go back to your regular business at Frizinghall," said the
Sergeant, speaking just as composedly as ever, in his usual quiet and
dreary way. "I don't think your talents are at all in our line, Mr.
Joyce. Your present form of employment is a trifle beyond you. Good
morning."
The man slunk off. I find it very difficult to describe how I was
affected by the discovery that Rosanna Spearman was missing. I seemed
to be in fifty different minds about it, all at the same time. In that
state, I stood staring at Sergeant Cuff--and my powers of language quite
failed me.
"No, Mr. Betteredge," said the Sergeant, as if he had discovered the
uppermost thought in me, and was picking it out to be answered, before
all the rest. "Your young friend, Rosanna, won't slip through my fingers
so easy as you think.
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