Presently there was a little excitement in the crowd of footmen, and two or three in handsome liveries called out, "Make way, make way," and Stumpy staring with all his might saw an old lady descending the staircase leaning on the arm of a tall gentleman.
"That's the earl and Mrs. Mildmay," said a footman, who had been telling the names of the various guests to a friend near him. "And here comes Mr. Murpoint, the M. P.—great man, you know—with Miss Mildmay, the heiress, on his arm. Get out of the way; he don't like a crowd round the door——Here he comes."
As he spoke the dark, handsome face of Howard Murpoint came into the light.
Violet was leaning on his arm, her pale face more sad and dreamy than usual.
They stepped on to the light, and Stumpy stared for a moment, then sprang forward so close to the railings that he struck his nose a severe blow.
He stared with open mouth and distended eyes, as if he were going into a fit, and as the great individual passed him—so closely as to touch him with his clothes—he gasped for breath, and dashing the perspiration from his face, muttered hoarsely and with an air of the most tremendous amazement.
"It's the general!"
Then he set off running as hard as he could and did not stop until he had burst into the sitting-room of Leicester's lodgings.
He found Leicester dead asleep on his chair, his head resting upon his arms on the table.
The sight of his exhausted master somewhat subdued Stumpy's excitement, and as he stared down at him thoughtfully he made a resolution not to communicate his discovery to his master too suddenly.