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Updated: May 6, 2025
And you will tell him the truth." "Yes, yes. But about the letter?" "If he wants the letter, he must come back here, and get it from Me." With those words she limped off on the way to Cobb's Hole. The detective-fever burnt up all my dignity on the spot. I followed her, and tried to make her talk. All in vain. It was my misfortune to be a man and Limping Lucy enjoyed disappointing me.
They will get together at Frizinghall, instead of getting together here. In the meantime, I'm afraid I must trouble you to call the servants together again." I went round with him to the servants' hall. It is very disgraceful, but it is not the less true, that I had another attack of the detective-fever, when he said those last words. I forgot that I hated Sergeant Cuff.
At this proposal, my detective-fever suddenly cooled. "You don't want me," I said. "What good can I do?" "The longer I know you, Mr. Betteredge," said the Sergeant, "the more virtues I discover. Modesty oh dear me, how rare modesty is in this world! and how much of that rarity you possess! If I go alone to the cottage, the people's tongues will be tied at the first question I put to them.
Certain signs and tokens, personal to myself, warned me that the detective-fever was beginning to set in again. "You can't see Mr. Franklin," I said. "I must, and will, see him." "He went to London last night." Limping Lucy looked me hard in the face, and saw that I was speaking the truth. Without a word more, she turned about again instantly towards Cobb's Hole. "Stop!" I said.
Besides," he added, confidentially, "there's nothing in the letter against your letting out the secret afterwards. I'll hang about in the fir plantation, and wait till you pick me up. Don't be longer than you can help, sir. The detective-fever isn't an easy disease to deal with, under THESE circumstances." With that parting caution, he left me.
'That piece of mud couldn't prove anything by itself, but bring it up at the end of a long string of evidence, and if it fits your man, it convicts him as much as a snap-shot photograph would. Morning, sir. I must be going. And he retired, carrying the piece of mud in his hand, leaving Mr Thompson in the full grip of the detective-fever, hunting with might and main for more clues.
I don't want to alarm you, but you're certain to catch it before the morning is out." "The devil I am!" "Do you feel an uncomfortable heat at the pit of your stomach, sir? and a nasty thumping at the top of your head? Ah! not yet? It will lay hold of you at Cobb's Hole, Mr. Franklin. I call it the detective-fever; and I first caught it in the company of Sergeant Cuff."
On hearing those words, the infernal detective-fever began, I suppose, to burn in me again. At any rate, I forgot myself in the interest of guessing this new riddle. I said rashly, "The stained dress!" Sergeant Cuff stopped short in the dark, and laid his hand on my arm. "Is anything thrown into that quicksand of yours, ever thrown up on the surface again?" he asked. "Never," I answered.
I fully expected that he would have asked leave to accompany us. But Rachel had wisely provided her faithful old servant with an occupation that interested him. He was charged with completing the refurnishing of the house, and was too full of his domestic responsibilities to feel the "detective-fever" as he might have felt it under other circumstances.
If you will excuse my suggesting it suppose you hold your tongue, and let me go first?" If there is such a thing known at the doctor's shop as a DETECTIVE-FEVER, that disease had now got fast hold of your humble servant. Sergeant Cuff went on between the hillocks of sand, down to the beach.
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