ave nothing to tell the policeman--I can't see anybody."
Our experienced officer looked equally surprised and offended when he
heard that reply. I told him my young lady was ill, and begged him to
wait a little and see her later. We thereupon went downstairs again, and
were met by Mr. Godfrey and Mr. Franklin crossing the hall.

The two gentlemen, being inmates of the house, were summoned to say if
they could throw any light on the matter. Neither of them knew anything
about it. Had they heard any suspicious noises during the previous
night? They had heard nothing but the pattering of the rain. Had I,
lying awake longer than either of them, heard nothing either? Nothing!
Released from examination, Mr. Franklin, still sticking to the helpless
view of our difficulty, whispered to me: "That man will be of no earthly
use to us. Superintendent Seegrave is an ass." Released in his turn, Mr.
Godfrey whispered to me--"Evidently a most competent person. Betteredge,
I have the greatest faith in him!" Many men, many opinions, as one of
the ancients said, before my time.

Mr. Superintendent's next proceeding took him back to the "boudoir"
again, with my daughter and me at his heels. His object was to discover
whether any of the furniture had been moved, during the night, out of
its customary place--his previous investigation in the room having,
apparently, not gone quite far enough to satisfy his mind on this point.

While we were still poking about among the chairs and tables, the door
of the bed-room was suddenly opened. After having denied herself to
everybody, Miss Rachel, to our astonishment, walked into the midst of
us of her own accord. She took up her garden hat from a chair, and then
went straight to Penelope with this question:--

"Mr. Franklin Blake sent you with a message to me this morning?"

"Yes, miss."

"He wished to speak to me, didn't he?"

"Yes, miss."

"Where is he now?"

Hearing voices on the terrace below, I looked out of window, and saw the
two gentlemen walking up and down together. Answering for my daughter, I
said, "Mr. Franklin is on the terrace, miss."

Without another word, without heeding Mr. Superintendent, who tried
to speak to her, pale as death, and wrapped up strangely in her own
thoughts, she left the room, and went down to her cousins on the
terrace.

It showed a want of due respect, it showed a breach of good manners, on
my part, but, for the life of me, I couldn't help looking out