I am certainly developing the wisdom of the serpent, for when Mortimer pressed his questions to an inconvenient extent I asked him casually to what type Frankland's skull belonged, and so heard nothing but craniology for the rest of our drive.
I have not lived for years with Sherlock Holmes for nothing.
I have only one other incident to record upon this tempestuous and melancholy day.

This was my conversation with Barrymore just now, which gives me one more strong card which I can play in due time.
Mortimer had stayed to dinner, and he and the baronet played ecarte afterwards.

The butler brought me my coffee into the library, and I took the chance to ask him a few questions.
"Well," said I, "has this precious relation of yours departed, or is he still lurking out yonder ?" "I don't know, sir.

I hope to heaven that he has gone, for he has brought nothing but trouble here! I've not heard of him since I left out food for him last, and that was three days ago." "Did you see him then ?" "No, sir, but the food was gone when next I went that way." "Then he was certainly there ?" "So you would think, sir, unless it was the other man who took it." I sat with my coffee-cup halfway to my lips and stared at Barrymore.
"You know that there is another man then ?" "Yes, sir; there is another man upon the moor." "Have you seen him ?" "No, sir." "How do you know of him then ?" "Selden told me of him, sir, a week ago or more.

He's in hiding, too, but he's not a convict as far as I can make out.