Durrance had
never given a thought to that dinner till this moment. It was possible
it might deserve much thought.
"There were you and I and Feversham present," he went on. "Feversham had
asked us there to tell us of his engagement to Miss Eustace. He had just
come back from Dublin. That was almost the last we saw of him." He took
a pull at his cigar and added, "By the way, there was a third man
present."
"Was there?" asked Willoughby. "It's so long ago."
"Yes--Trench."
"To be sure, Trench was present. It will be a long time, I am afraid,
before we dine at the same table with poor old Trench again."
The carelessness of his voice was well assumed; he leaned forwards and
struck another match and lighted his pipe. As he did so, Durrance laid
down his cigar upon the table edge.
"And we shall never dine with Castleton again," he said slowly.
"Castleton wasn't there," Willoughby exclaimed, and quickly enough to
betray that, however long the interval since that little dinner in
Feversham's rooms, it was at all events still distinct in his
recollections.
"No, but he was expected," said Durrance.
"No, not even expected," corrected Willoughby. "He was dining elsewhere.
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