The woman smiled. "He has only one business now, sir," she said;
"and that's roses. Some great man's gardener in Ireland has found out
something new in the growing of roses--and Mr. Cuff's away to inquire
into it."
"Do you know when he will be back?"
"It's quite uncertain, sir. Mr. Cuff said he should come back directly,
or be away some time, just according as he found the new discovery worth
nothing, or worth looking into. If you have any message to leave for
him, I'll take care, sir, that he gets it."
I gave her my card, having first written on it in pencil: "I have
something to say about the Moonstone. Let me hear from you as soon
as you get back." That done, there was nothing left but to submit to
circumstances, and return to London.
In the irritable condition of my mind, at the time of which I am now
writing, the abortive result of my journey to the Sergeant's cottage
simply aggravated the restless impulse in me to be doing something. On
the day of my return from Dorking, I determined that the next morning
should find me bent on a new effort at forcing my way, through all
obstacles, from the darkness to the light.
What form was my next experiment to take?
If the excellent Betteredge had been present while I was considering
that question, and if he had been let into the secret of my thoughts, he
would, no doubt, have declared that the German side of me was, on this
occasion, my uppermost side.
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