The man made of cotton had disappeared; and the man made of iron sat before me again.
"Going to London, sir ?" I asked.
"Going to telegraph to London," says Mr.Franklin.

"I have convinced my aunt that we must have a cleverer head than Superintendent Seegrave's to help us; and I have got her permission to despatch a telegram to my father.

He knows the Chief Commissioner of Police, and the Commissioner can lay his hand on the right man to solve the mystery of the Diamond.
Talking of mysteries, by-the-bye," says Mr.Franklin, dropping his voice, "I have another word to say to you before you go to the stables.
Don't breathe a word of it to anybody as yet; but either Rosanna Spearman's head is not quite right, or I am afraid she knows more about the Moonstone than she ought to know." I can hardly tell whether I was more startled or distressed at hearing him say that.

If I had been younger, I might have confessed as much to Mr.Franklin.But when you are old, you acquire one excellent habit.

In cases where you don't see your way clearly, you hold your tongue.
"She came in here with a ring I dropped in my bed-room," Mr.Franklin went on.