"Without any clue to anything more?"
"Without any; there was," says the lawyer meditatively, "an old portmanteau, but--No, there were no papers."
During the utterance of every word of this short dialogue, Lady Dedlock and Mr. Tulkinghorn, without any other alteration in their customary deportment, have looked very steadily at one another--as was natural, perhaps, in the discussion of so unusual a subject. Sir Leicester has looked at the fire, with the general expression of the Dedlock on the staircase. The story being told, he renews his stately protest, saying that as it is quite clear that no association in my Lady's mind can possibly be traceable to this poor wretch (unless he was a begging-letter writer), he trusts to hear no more about a subject so far removed from my Lady's station.
"Certainly, a collection of horrors," says my Lady, gathering up her mantles and furs, "but they interest one for the moment! Have the kindness, Mr. Tulkinghorn, to open the door for me."

"Without any clue to anything more?"
"Without any; there was an old portmanteau," says the lawyer meditatively, "but there were no papers."
During every word of this short dialogue, Lady Dedlock and Mr. Tulkinghorn have looked very steadily at one another. Sir Leicester has looked at the fire. He now says haughtily that he trusts to hear no more about a subject so far removed from my Lady's station.
"Certainly, a collection of horrors," says my Lady, gathering up her furs, "but they interest one for the moment! Have the kindness, Mr. Tulkinghorn, to open the door for me."
