"No; that seems to have been a mistake."
"I am glad of that, very glad," said the reporter. "By the way, you have not yet told me the young lady's name."
"I thought I had mentioned it yesterday morning. Didn't I? No? My fiancée is Miss Murdock."
At the sound of this name Sturgis started visibly, and a shadow crossed his features.
"Miss Murdock?" he echoed.
"Yes," said Sprague. "What is it? You do not seem pleased."
Then, as a sudden thought struck him:
"I hope I am not treading on your toes, old fellow," he said, putting his hand gently upon his friend's shoulder, and trying to read his thought in his clear gray eyes. "But how absurd! Of course you cannot be a rival for Miss Murdock's affections, since you do not even know her——"
"No," laughed Sturgis, regaining his composure, "I am not your rival. As to the other point, while I can hardly claim an acquaintance with the young lady, I think I saw her not more than a couple of hours ago."
"A couple of hours ago!" exclaimed Sprague; "why, I was with her myself then."