Julian looked puzzled.
"What—is Lady Crichton ill, then?"
"Lady Crichton! No. I meant about that poor fellow, Marr."
Julian swung round in his seat and regarded the man full in the face.
"Marr! Why, what is it? Has he had an accident?"
"Dead!" the other man said laconically, arranging the gardenia in his coat, and taking a comprehensive survey of the room.
"Dead!" Julian repeated, without expression. "Dead!"
"Yes. Well, bye-bye. Going on to the Empire!"
He turned to go, but Julian caught his arm.
"Wait a moment. When did he die?"