“A long half-hour passed. Feeling a little uneasy, I went upstairs again and looked into the room. He was leaning back in his chair; his plaything was on the floor, and he was looking vacantly at the light that came in through the window. I found Mrs. Tenbruggen at the other end of the room, in the act of ringing the bell. Nothing in the least out of the ordinary way seemed to have happened. When the attendant had answered the bell, we left the room together. Mr. Gracedieu took no notice of us.
“‘Well,’ I said, ‘how has it ended?’
“Quite calmly my noble Elizabeth answered: ‘In total failure.’
“‘What did you say to him after you sent me away?’
“‘I tried, in every possible way, to get him to tell me which of his two daughters was the oldest.’
“‘Did he refuse to answer?’
“‘He was only too ready to answer. First, he said Helena was the oldest—then he corrected himself, and declared that Eunice was the oldest—then he said they were twins—then he went back to Helena and Eunice. Now one was the oldest, and now the other. He rang the changes on those two names, I can’t tell you how often, and seemed to think it a better game than cup-and-ball.’
“‘What is to be done?’
“‘Nothing is to be done, Selina.’
“‘What!’ I cried, ‘you give it up?’