'By the way,' went on Sir Thomas, 'that fellow Edgecumbe has developed wonderfully, hasn't he? Of course what he said last night was so much nonsense. I quite agree that it's very sad about—that—is—some of the things he talked about, but as to the rest,—it was moonshine.'
'You wouldn't have said so if you'd been there, Sir Thomas,' I ventured.
'Something's going to happen, Luscombe,' Edgecumbe said to me as presently we found our way to our rooms.
'Why do you say so?'
'I don't know. But there is. It's in the air we breathe. I know I'm right.'
'What's the matter with you?' I asked, looking at him intently.
'Nothing. Yes there is though. I'm feeling mighty queer.'
'Are you ill?'
'No, nothing of the sort. But I'm nervous. I feel as though great things were on foot. The air is charged with great things. Something big is going to take place.'
He was silent a few seconds, and then went on, 'I had a long talk with a doctor in France a few days ago.'