ething which he expected to hear. He half angered and half frightened
me--why, I couldn't tell, but he did it.

"Must the search be given up?" I asked.

"Yes," said the Sergeant, "the search must be given up, because your
young lady refuses to submit to it like the rest. We must examine all
the wardrobes in the house or none. Send Mr. Ablewhite's portmanteau
to London by the next train, and return the washing-book, with my
compliments and thanks, to the young woman who brought it in."

He laid the washing-book on the table, and taking out his penknife,
began to trim his nails.

"You don't seem to be much disappointed," I said.

"No," said Sergeant Cuff; "I am not much disappointed."

I tried to make him explain himself.

"Why should Miss Rachel put an obstacle in your way?" I inquired. "Isn't
it her interest to help you?"

"Wait a little, Mr. Betteredge--wait a little."

Cleverer heads than mine might have seen his drift. Or a person less
fond of Miss Rachel than I was, might have seen his drift. My lady's
horror of him might (as I have since thought) have meant that she saw
his drift (as the scripture says) "in a glass darkly." I didn't see it
yet--that's all I know.

"What's to be done next?" I asked.

Sergeant Cuff finished the nail on which he was then at work, looked at
it for a moment with a melancholy interest, and put up his penknife.

"Come out into the garden," he said, "and let's have a look at the
roses."

CHAPTER XIV

The nearest way to the garden, on going out of my lady's sitting-room,
was by the shrubbery path, which you already know of. For the sake of
your better understanding of what is now to come, I may add to this,
that the shrubbery path was Mr. Franklin's favourite walk. When he was
out in the grounds, and when we failed to find him anywhere else, we
generally found him here.

I am afraid I must own that I am rather an obstinate old man. The more
firmly Sergeant Cuff kept his thoughts shut up from me, the more
firmly I persisted in trying to look in at them. As we turned into the
shrubbery path, I attempted to circumvent him in another way.

"As things are now," I said, "if I was in your place, I should be at my
wits' end."

"If you were in my place," answered the Sergeant, "you would have formed
an opinion--and, as things are now, any doubt you might previously have
felt about your own conclusions would be completely set at rest. Never
mind for the present what those