Aaron took him by the arm.
"Captain Brinnen," he said, "I am sorry, but I am the bearer of bad news. Your grandfather died this evening."
The young man stood perfectly still for a moment.
"Dead!" he muttered. "Poor fellow! ... dead!"
Inside the room the music was crashing, and the hum of conversation was already swelling to a tumult. A couple of early dancers were whirling round the room. Brinnen turned to his guests.
"I am so sorry," he explained, "Mr. Rodd here has brought me bad news. A near relative of mine has died suddenly. You must excuse my joining you. Luigi will serve the supper."
There was a little murmur of sympathy. His Bohemian friends crowded silently around him. One by one they shook his hand—a queer little function. Then he turned away and stood for a moment on the pavement outside, Aaron Rodd by his side.
"Mr. Rodd," he said, "my grandfather's death may make a difference in many ways."
Aaron Rodd straightened himself. He was never sure of the demeanour of this young adventurer, who seemed for the most part to treat life as a jest.
"In what way?" he asked.