The five people sitting round the table seemed to find conversation difficult. Outside sudden gusts of wind came up and died away.

Vera shivered a little and said:

«There is a storm coming.»

Blore made a contribution to the discourse. He said conversationally:

«There was an old fellow in the train from Plymouth yesterday. He kept saying a storm was coming. Wonderful how they know weather, these old salts.»

Rogers went round the table collecting the meat plates. Suddenly, with the plates held in his hands, he stopped. He said in an odd scared voice:

«There’s somebody running…»

They could all hear it – running feet along the terrace.

In that minute, they knew – knew without being told…

As by common accord, they all rose to their feet. They stood looking towards the door.

Dr. Armstrong appeared, his breath coming fast.

He said: «General Macarthur —»

«Dead!» The voice burst from Vera explosively.

Armstrong said: «Yes, he’s dead…»

There was a pause – a long pause.

Seven people looked at each other and could find no words to say.