'But Twickenham's dead.'
We've no proof of it. We've been looking for proof for some time. A pretty penny the search has cost us.'
'What makes you talk like this? You've seemed convinced enough about his being dead. You've gone Nap on it.'
'Precisely. And I'm now inclined to wonder if I haven't gone Nap on a pretty bad hand.'
'Surely you don't believe any of that stuff about my aunt's dreams?'
'Your aunt's dreams are neither here nor there. But between ourselves, I tell you candidly that I think it's quite possible that Twickenham's alive.'
'Good God! What have you heard?'
'I have heard nothing. By the purest accident I have chanced on what may turn out to be a clue. If it does, you shall hear more next week. At present I can tell you nothing.'
'Douglas, where is he?'
'You move too fast. I believe that it's still even betting that Twickenham's as dead as a coffin nail. But you will see for yourself why you and I should not pose as being too chivalrous, and especially why you should sleep upon the matter before having another interview with Vi. Good-night.'