"Last night. In the dead of the night, or in the early morning."
"What of?"
"They don't know. There's going to be an inquest. The poor chap didn't die at home, but in a private hotel, in the Euston Road, the 'European.' He's lying there now. Funny sort of chap, but not bad in his way. I expect—"
Here the man bent down and murmured something into Julian's ear.
"Well, see you again presently. 'In the midst of life,' eh?"
He lounged away and began applying his intellect to the dissection of a sardine.
Julian turned round in his chair and again faced Valentine. But he did not go on eating the cutlet in aspic that lay upon his plate. He sat looking at Valentine, and at last said:
"How horribly sudden!"
"Yes," Valentine answered sympathetically. "He must have had a weak heart."
"I dare say. I suppose so. Valentine, I can't realize it."