Raju looks over at the cellar door, easing himself over and pushing it mostly closed, not far enough to make the noise of shutting it but far enough to block a little more sound, before settling next to the sink again, frowning. It isn't much of a question, whether Raju's going to answer him with a polite dismissal or an honest guess; he might be a stranger to Raju, but the regard and the trust Francis feels for the man's been clear in every word that he's said about him. The only trick is how to phrase it. Francis had asked him once not to tell any of the men who'd died that they had, that Francis had outlived every single one, and Raju doesn't know what Fitzjames remembers.

"He's responsible for you," Raju murmurs. "For all of you. What you all..." Lived through? Bizarre, to be speaking to a living man and know that's not the right phrase. "...experienced, his failures, it weighs on him. But I don't know what made him think more about it now. You were thinking of those dinner parties, weren't you? Your stories? And he heard something else."