By nightfall both were fagged and neither in sanguine mood.
Mount Dunstan had sat silent for some time.

The pair often sat silent.
This pause was ended by the young man's rising and standing up, stretching his limbs.
"It was a queer thing you said to me in this room a few years ago," he said.

"It has just come back to me." Singularly enough--or perhaps naturally enough--it had also just arisen again from the depths of Penzance's subconsciousness.
"Yes," he answered, "I remember.

To-night it suggests premonition.

Your brother was not the last Mount Dunstan." "In one sense he never was Mount Dunstan at all," answered the other man.