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 comers, 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 sharp with Penelope at starting.  “Now, young woman, attend to me, and mind you speak the truth.”  Penelope fired up instantly.  “I’ve never been taught to tell lies Mr. Policeman!—­and if father can stand there and hear me accused of falsehood and thieving, and my own bed-room shut against me, and my character taken away, which is all a poor girl has left, he’s not the good father I take him for!” A timely word from me put Justice and Penelope on a pleasanter footing together.  The questions and answers went swimmingly, and ended in nothing worth mentioning.  My daughter had seen Miss Rachel put the Diamond in the drawer of the cabinet the last thing at night.  She had gone in with Miss Rachel’s cup of tea at eight the next morning, and had found the drawer open and empty.  Upon that, she had alarmed the house—­and there was an end of Penelope’s evidence.

Mr. Superintendent next asked to see Miss Rachel herself.  Penelope mentioned his request through the door.  The answer reached us by the same road:  “I have 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.