“It might have happened at any moment,” he reminded her. “The man had heart disease. He had had his warning. He knew very well that the end might come at any moment.”
“That is true, I suppose,” she admitted. “The medical examination seemed to account easily enough for his death. Yet there was something uncanny about it.”
“The party broke up the next day, I suppose,” he continued. “I have been down in the country, but I have heard nothing.”
“We left before the funeral, of course,” she answered.
“Fortunately for me,” he remarked, “I had important things to think of. I had to prepare this paper. The invitation to read it came quite unexpectedly. I have been in London for so short a time, indeed, that I scarcely expected the honor of being asked to take any share in a meeting so important as this.”
“I do not see why you should be surprised,” she said.
“You certainly seem to have gone as far in the study of occultism as any of those others.”
He looked at her thoughtfully.
“You yourself should read a little about these things,” he said—“read a little and think a little. You would find very much to interest you.”
“I am sure of it,” she answered, almost humbly. “Will you come and see me one day, and talk about it? I live at Number 17, Cadogan Street.”