Sir Andrew ceased reading, but, as though still under the influence
of the book, sat looking, blankly, into the open fire. For a brief
space, no one moved until the baronet withdrew his eyes and, with a
sudden start of recollection, felt, anxiously, for his watch. He
scanned its face eagerly, and scrambled to his feet.
The voice of the American instantly broke the silence in a high,
nervous accent.
"And yet Sherlock Holmes himself," he cried, "could not decipher the
mystery which to-night baffles the police of London."
At these unexpected words, which carried in them something of the
tone of a challenge, the gentlemen about the table started as
suddenly as though the American had fired a pistol in the air, and
Sir Andrew halted, abruptly, and stood observing him with grave
surprise.
The gentleman with the black pearl was the first to recover.
"Yes, yes," he said, eagerly, throwing himself across the table. "A
mystery that baffles the police of London. I have heard nothing of
it. Tell us at once, pray do--tell us at once."
The American flushed uncomfortably, and picked, uneasily, at the
table-cloth.
"No one but the police has heard of it," he murmured, "and they only
through me.
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