"
Julian drank his coffee off at a gulp, in a way that would have made him
the despair of an epicure.
"Where shall we go, then?"
Julian answered:
"To the Euston Road. To the 'European.'"
"The 'European'!"
"Yes, Valentine; I must see Marr once more, even dead. And I want you
to see him. It was he who made the strangeness in our lives. But for him
these curious events of the last days would not have happened. And isn't
it peculiar that he must have died just about the time you were in your
trance?"
"I do not see that. The two things were totally unconnected."
"Perhaps. I suppose so. But I must know how he died. I must see what he
looks like dead. You will come with me?"
"If you wish it. But we may not be admitted."
"I will manage that somehow. Let us go."
Valentine got up. He showed neither definite reluctance nor excitement.
They put on their coats in the vestibule and went out into the street.
While they had been dining the weather, fine during the day, had changed,
and rain was falling in sheets. They stood in the doorway while the
hall-porter called a cab. Piccadilly on such a night as this looked
perhaps more decisively dreary than a rain-soaked country lane, or
storm-driven sand-dunes by the sea.
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