"But—but—surely she—er—I mean, they are engaged."
"Frank, my boy, not a word of this to a soul—not even to Jean or Lucas. I may be wrong, and I don't want to make mischief; but I have a strong suspicion there's another fellow."
"What kind of fellow?"
"A rival."
"Good God!" cried Frank. "Who the devil is he?"
"Hush, hush—not so violently, my dear fellow. It's pretty sickening, of course; but till you know who he is, you can't knock him down."
"Well, then, tell me who he is."
"That's just what I'd like to know myself. It's some one in Perthshire."
"How do you know?" demanded Frank.