back. The resolute side of him had, to all
appearance, given way, in the interval since his
departure, under the stress that had been laid
on it. He had left us at a gallop; he came
back to us at a walk. When he went away, he
was made of iron. When he returned, he was
stuffed with cotton, as limp as limp could be.

"Well!" says my lady, "are the police
coming?"

"Yes," says Mr. Franklin; "they said they
would follow me in a fly. Superintendent Seegrave,
of your local police force, and two of his
men. A mere form! The case is
hopeless."

"What! have the Indians escaped, sir?" I
asked.

"The poor ill-used Indians have been most
unjustly put in prison," says Mr. Franklin.
"They are as innocent as the babe unborn. My
idea that one of them was hidden in the house,
has ended, like all the rest of my ideas, in
smoke. It's been proved," says Mr. Franklin,
dwelling with great relish on his own incapacity,
"to be simply impossible."

After astonishing us by announcing this
totally new turn in the matter of the Moonstone,
our young gentleman, at his aunt's request, took
a seat, and explained himself.

It appeared that the resolute side of him
had held out as far as Frizinghall. He had
put the whole case plainly before the magistrate,
and the magistrate had at once sent for the
police. The first inquiries instituted about the
Indians showed that they had not so much as
attempted to leave the town. Further
questions addressed to the police proved that all
three had been seen returning to Frizinghall
with their boy, on the previous night
between ten and eleven—which (regard being
had to hours and distances) also proved that
they had walked straight back, after performing
on our terrace. Later still, at midnight, the
police, having occasion to search the common
lodging-house where they lived, had seen them
all three again, and their little boy with them
as usual. Soon after midnight, I myself had
safely shut up the house. Plainer evidence
than this, in favour of the Indians, there could
not well be. The magistrate said there was
not even a case of suspicion against them, so
far. But, as it was just possible, when the
police came to investigate the matter, that
discoveries affecting the jugglers might be made,
he would contrive, by committing them as
rogues and vagabonds, to keep them at our
disposal, under lock and key, for a week. They
had ignorantly done something (I forget what)
in the town, which barely brought them within
the operation of the law. Every human
institution (Justice included) will stretch a little, if
you only pull it the right way. The worthy
magistrate was an old friend of my lady's—and
the Indian lot were "committed" for a week,
as soon as the court opened that morning.

Such was Mr. Franklin's narrative of events
at Frizinghall. The Indian clue to the mystery
of the lost jewel was now, to all appearance, a
clue that had broken in our hands. If the
jugglers were innocent, who, in the name of
wonder, had taken the Moonstone out of Miss
Rachel's drawer?

Ten minutes later, to our infinite relief,
Superintendent Seegrave arrived at the house.
He reported passing Mr. Franklin on the terrace,
sitting in the sun (I suppose with the Italian
side of him uppermost.); and warning the police,
as they went by, that the investigation was
hopeless, before the investigation had begun.

For a family in our situation, the superintendent
of the Frizinghall police was the most
comforting officer you could wish to see. Mr.
Seegrave was tall and portly, and military in his
manners. He had a fine commanding voice, and
a mighty resolute eye, and a grand frock coat
which buttoned beautifully up to his leather
stock. "I'm the man you want!" was written
all over his face; and he ordered his two
inferior policemen about with a severity which
convinced us all that there was no trifling with
him.

He began by going round the premises,
outside and in; the result of that investigation
proving to him that no thieves had broken in
upon us from outside, and that the robbery,
consequently, must have been committed by some
person in the house. I leave you to imagine
the state the servants were in when this official
announcement first reached their ears. The
Superintendent decided to begin by examining
the boudoir; and, that done, to examine the
servants next. At the same time, he posted
one of his men on the staircase which led to the
servants' bedrooms, with instructions to let
nobody in the house pass him, till further
orders.

At this latter proceeding, the weaker half of
the human family went distracted on the spot.
They bounced out of their corners; whisked
up-stairs in a body to Miss Rachel's room
(Rosanna Spearman being carried away among
them this time); burst in on Superintendent
Seegrave, and, all looking equally guilty,
summoned him to say which of them he suspected,
at once.

Mr. Superintendent proved equal to the
occasion: he looked at them with his resolute eye,
and he cowed them with his military voice.
"Now, then, you women, go down-stairs again,
every one of you. I won't have you here.
Look!" says Mr. Superintendent, suddenly
pointing to a little smear of the decorative
painting on Miss Rachel's door—at the outer
edge, just under the lock. "Look what
mischief the petticoats of some of you have done
already. Clear out! clear out!" Rosanna
Spearman, who was nearest to him, and nearest
to the little smear on the door, set the example
of obedience, and slipped off instantly to her
work. The rest followed her out. The
Superintendent finished his examination of the room;
and, making nothing of it, asked me who had
first discovered the robbery. My daughter had
first discovered it. My daughter was sent for.

Mr. Superintendent proved to be a little too