"Oh!" said Philip. "Where?"
"In the rose-garden," yawned Sir Maurice.
The whip fell to the ground.
"What? In the rose-garden? Whose rose-garden?"
"At Sharley House, of course."
"Where—was—What was he doing there?"
"He was sitting in the arbour, talking to Cleone."
"Confound him!" growled Philip, as if his worst fears were realised. "What's he like?"
Sir Maurice glanced across at him.
"He is about your height—perhaps a little taller. He—ah—seems to have a soft tongue and an engaging manner."