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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"Flames"


Presently Julian said:
"I went to the club this afternoon."
"Did you?"
"Yes. I wanted to have a talk with that fellow Marr."
Valentine suddenly put down the glass of champagne which he was in the
act of raising to his lips.
"But surely," he began, with some appearance of haste. Then he seemed to
check himself, and finished calmly:
"You found him, I suppose?"
"No."
"I thought he was perpetually there, apparently on the lookout for you."
"Yes, but to-day he hadn't been in at all. Perhaps he has gone out of
town."
"Ah, probably."
At this moment two men entered the restaurant and strolled towards the
table next to that at which Valentine and Julian sat. One of them knew
Julian and nodded as he passed. He was just on the point of sitting
down and unfolding his napkin when a sudden thought seemed to strike him,
and he came over and said to Julian:
"You remember that dinner at Lady Crichton's, where we met the other
night?"
"Yes."
"Startling bit of news to-night, wasn't it? Damned sudden!"
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.


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