n her mind. Then she took the broom out of
my hands and moved off with it slowly, a little way down the corridor.

"No," she said, going on with her sweeping, and speaking to herself; "I
know a better way of relieving my mind than that."

"What is it?"

"Please to let me go on with my work."

Penelope followed her, and offered to help her.

She answered, "No. I want to do my work. Thank you, Penelope." She
looked round at me. "Thank you, Mr. Betteredge."

There was no moving her--there was nothing more to be said. I signed
to Penelope to come away with me. We left her, as we had found her,
sweeping the corridor, like a woman in a dream.

"This is a matter for the doctor to look into," I said. "It's beyond
me."

My daughter reminded me of Mr. Candy's illness, owing (as you may
remember) to the chill he had caught on the night of the dinner-party.
His assistant--a certain Mr. Ezra Jennings--was at our disposal, to be
sure. But nobody knew much about him in our parts. He had been engaged
by Mr. Candy under rather peculiar circumstances; and, right or wrong,
we none of us liked him or trusted him. There were other doctors at
Frizinghall. But they were strangers to our house; and Penelope doubted,
in Rosanna's present state, whether strangers might not do her more harm
than good.

I thought of speaking to my lady. But, remembering the heavy weight of
anxiety which she already had on her mind, I hesitated to add to all the
other vexations this new trouble. Still, there was a necessity for doing
something. The girl's state was, to my thinking, downright alarming--and
my mistress ought to be informed of it. Unwilling enough, I went to her
sitting-room. No one was there. My lady was shut up with Miss Rachel. It
was impossible for me to see her till she came out again.

I waited in vain till the clock on the front staircase struck the
quarter to two. Five minutes afterwards, I heard my name called, from
the drive outside the house. I knew the voice directly. Sergeant Cuff
had returned from Frizinghall.

CHAPTER XVIII

Going down to the front door, I met the Sergeant on the steps.

It went against the grain with me, after what had passed between us, to
show him that I felt any sort of interest in his proceedings. In spite
of myself, however, I felt an interest that there was no resisting. My
sense of dignity sank from under me, and out came the words: "What news
from Frizinghall?"

"I have seen the Indians,