The young man, instead of answering, asked his own question. "Look here, what the devil are you after? I don't say that it is or it isn't, but anyway why do you want to know?"
"It's only this," said Harkness slowly, "that if your name is Dunbar, then I have a message for you."
"You have?"
He started out of his chair, standing up in front of Harkness as though challenging him.
"Yes, a friend of yours asked me to come here, to meet you at half-past nine and tell you that she agrees to your proposal——"
"She does? . . . At last!"
Then his voice changed to suspicion. "You seem to be a lot in this. Forgive my curiosity. I don't want to seem rude, but meeting me on the hill this afternoon and now this. . . . I've got to be so damn careful——"
"My name is Harkness. It was quite by chance that I was walking down the hill this afternoon and met you. As I told you then, I was on my way to the 'Man-at-Arms.' This evening I offered my help to a lady there who seemed to be in distress, and asked her whether there was anything that I could do. She asked me to bring you that message. There was no one else for her to ask."
Dunbar stared at Harkness, then suddenly held out his hand. "Jolly decent of you. I won't forget it. My name is Dunbar as you know, David Dunbar."
"And mine Harkness, Charles Harkness."