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Collins, Wilkie, 1824-1889

"The Moonstone"

She advanced a few steps--then stopped again. Mr. Bruff
and Betteredge looked across the open doorway at me for the first time.
The prevision of a coming disappointment was impressing itself on their
minds as well as on mine.
Still, so long as he stood where he was, there was hope. We waited, in
unutterable expectation, to see what would happen next.
The next event was decisive. He let the mock Diamond drop out of his
hand.
It fell on the floor, before the doorway--plainly visible to him, and
to everyone. He made no effort to pick it up: he looked down at
it vacantly, and, as he looked, his head sank on his breast. He
staggered--roused himself for an instant--walked back unsteadily to the
sofa--and sat down on it. He made a last effort; he tried to rise, and
sank back. His head fell on the sofa cushions. It was then twenty-five
minutes past one o'clock. Before I had put my watch back in my pocket,
he was asleep.
It was all over now. The sedative influence had got him; the experiment
was at an end.
I entered the room, telling Mr. Bruff and Betteredge that they might
follow me. There was no fear of disturbing him. We were free to move and
speak.


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