"His what?"
"His friends from near the barracks. They were here when we came down into the rotunda to smoke after dinner."
Cram felt his legs and feet grow cold and a chill run up his spine.
"Who were they? Did you catch their names?"
"Only one. I was introduced only as they were about to drive away. A little old fellow with elaborate manners,—a Monsieur Lascelles."
"And Waring drove away with him?"
"Yes, with him and one other. Seemed to be a friend of Lascelles. Drove off in a closed carriage with a driver all done up in rubber and oil-skin who said he perfectly knew the road. Why, what's gone amiss?"