"'You've been dreaming again,' I said bluntly.
"'Oh, no I haven't. Don't you run away with that idea.'
"His whole manner was so grown up that it was quite unthinkable to treat him as the child he really was. In fact, it was a little uncanny, this man in a child's frame.
"'I was killed there,' he said again.
"'How do you mean killed?' I asked him.
"'Why, killed—murdered. Of course it was years and years ago, I can't say when; still I remember the room. I suppose it was the room that reminded me of the incident.'
"'Incident!' I exclaimed.
"'What else? Being killed is only an incident in the existence of anyone. One makes a fuss about it at the time, of course, but really when you come to think of it...'
"'Tell me about it,' I said, lighting a cigarette. He lit one too, that child, and began.
"'You know my room is the only modern one in this old house. Nobody knows why it is modern.