The news of Rosanna's disappearance had, as it appeared, spread among the out-of-door servants.

They too had made their inquiries; and they had just laid hands on a quick little imp, nicknamed "Duffy"-- who was occasionally employed in weeding the garden, and who had seen Rosanna Spearman as lately as half-an-hour since.

Duffy was certain that the girl had passed him in the fir-plantation, not walking, but RUNNING, in the direction of the sea-shore.
"Does this boy know the coast hereabouts ?" asked Sergeant Cuff.
"He has been born and bred on the coast," I answered.
"Duffy!" says the Sergeant, "do you want to earn a shilling?
If you do, come along with me.

Keep the pony-chaise ready, Mr.Betteredge, till I come back." He started for the Shivering Sand, at a rate that my legs (though well enough preserved for my time of life) had no hope of matching.

Little Duffy, as the way is with the young savages in our parts when they are in high spirits, gave a howl, and trotted off at the Sergeant's heels.
Here again, I find it impossible to give anything like a clear account of the state of my mind in the interval after Sergeant Cuff had left us.