"It may be important, but it's one I absolutely refuse to answer." She faced him angrily. "What business is it of yours?"
"Absolutely none—at the moment," he said, quietly. "But you've come to me to find out what the trouble is. And if you have not made any mistake with regard to your engagement, I advise you to carry out the suggestion contained in my note. Get your fiancé away from Frenton's, and keep him away, both before and after your marriage. It will come, I imagine, as a blow to your father, but you can easily turn it into a company."
"You mean—that the men don't like Herbert?" She forced herself to ask the question.
"I mean," he answered, deliberately, "that the men loathe and detest him, and that only the love they have for you and your father has staved off trouble up till now. And even that love will fail to avert a crisis after—well, after the regrettable episode that happened yesterday."
"What was it?" she demanded, and her voice sounded dead to the man.
"I don't think we need bother as to what it was," he said, quietly. "Shall we leave it at the fact that however excellent a husband Strongley may make, as a boss of Frenton's he is a complete failure?" He bit his lip as he saw the look on the girl's face. Then he went on in the same quiet voice. "Things like this hurt, Miss Frenton: but you are the type that appreciates frankness. And I tell you quite openly that the men are after your fiancé. And I don't blame them."
"You side with them, do you?" She threw the words at him fiercely.
"Am I not one of them?" he replied, gravely.
"You know you're not." She stood up and faced him. "You're not one of the ordinary hands. Look at your evening clothes; look at that gun-case in the corner...." She paused as she saw the sudden look on his face. "What is it?"
"Into this room quickly," he whispered. "You must stop there till he goes. Good Lord! What a complication!"