On reaching the cottage, the fisherman and his son proved to be out in the boat; and Limping Lucy, always weak and weary, was resting on her bed up-stairs.  Good Mrs. Yolland received us alone in her kitchen.  When she heard that Sergeant Cuff was a celebrated character in London, she clapped a bottle of Dutch gin and a couple of clean pipes on the table, and stared as if she could never see enough of him.

I sat quiet in a corner, waiting to hear how the Sergeant would find his way to the subject of Rosanna Spearman.  His usual roundabout manner of going to work proved, on this occasion, to be more roundabout than ever.  How he managed it is more than I could tell at the time, and more than I can tell now.  But this is certain, he began with the Royal Family, the Primitive Methodists, and the price of fish; and he got from that (in his dismal, underground way) to the loss of the Moonstone, the spitefulness of our first house-maid, and the hard behaviour of the women-servants generally towards Rosanna Spearman.  Having reached his subject in this fashion, he described himself as making his inquiries about the lost Diamond, partly with a view to find it, and partly for the purpose of clearing Rosanna from the unjust suspicions of her enemies in the house.  In about a quarter of an hour from the time when we entered the kitchen, good Mrs. Yolland was persuaded that she was talking to Rosanna’s best friend, and was pressing Sergeant Cuff to comfort his stomach and revive his spirits out of the Dutch bottle.

Being firmly persuaded that the Sergeant was wasting his breath to no purpose on Mrs. Yolland, I sat enjoying the talk between them, much as I have sat, in my time, enjoying a stage play.  The great Cuff showed a wonderful patience; trying his luck drearily this way and that way, and firing shot after shot, as it were, at random, on the chance of hitting the mark.  Everything to Rosanna’s credit, nothing to Rosanna’s prejudice—­that was how it ended, try as he might; with Mrs. Yolland talking nineteen to the dozen, and placing the most entire confidence in him.  His last effort was made, when we had looked at our watches, and had got on our legs previous to taking leave.

“I shall now wish you good-night, ma’am,” says the Sergeant.  “And I shall only say, at parting, that Rosanna Spearman has a sincere well-wisher in myself, your obedient servant.  But, oh dear me! she will never get on in her present place; and my advice to her is—­leave it.”

“Bless your heart alive! she is going to leave it!” cries Mrs. Yolland.  (Nota bene—­I translate Mrs. Yolland out of the Yorkshire language into the English language.  When I tell you that the all-accomplished Cuff was every now and then puzzled to understand her until I helped him, you will draw your own conclusions as to what your state of mind would be if I reported her in her native tongue.)