He
was doing it very dexterously--with all possible consideration for
the feelings of his host--but it is not the less certain that he
was composing himself for a nap. It struck me as an experiment worth
attempting, to try whether a judicious allusion to the subject of the
Moonstone would keep him awake, and, if it did, to see what HE thought
of the last new complication in the Indian conspiracy, as revealed in
the prosaic precincts of my office.
"If I am not mistaken, Mr. Murthwaite," I began, "you were acquainted
with the late Lady Verinder, and you took some interest in the strange
succession of events which ended in the loss of the Moonstone?"
The eminent traveller did me the honour of waking up in an instant, and
asking me who I was.
I informed him of my professional connection with the Herncastle family,
not forgetting the curious position which I had occupied towards the
Colonel and his Diamond in the bygone time.
Mr. Murthwaite shifted round in his chair, so as to put the rest of the
company behind him (Conservatives and Liberals alike), and concentrated
his whole attention on plain Mr. Bruff, of Gray's Inn Square.
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