“See that chap?” asked Laing, pointing to the figure. “He’s at my hotel.”
“Is he?” said Dora in a faint voice.
“Yes, I’ve got a good deal of amusement out of him. He oughtn’t to be out so late though, and by himself, too!”
“Who is it?” asked Charlie.
“I don’t know his name.”
“And why oughtn’t he to be out?”
“Because he’s on his honeymoon,”
“What?” cried Dora.
“Just married,” explained Laing. “Wife’s a tallish girl, fair, rather good-looking; looks standoffish though.”
“You—you’re sure they’re married, Mr. Laing?” gasped Dora, and Charlie, in whom her manner had awakened a suspicion of the truth, also waited eagerly for the reply.