“What’s the matter?” she asked in a frightened tone.
As her husband remained silent, she went up to him, and gave his arm a shake:
“Jock? You’re frightening me! Have you found out anything about Harry Garlett? D’you mean you think the marriage will have to be broken off?”
She added, “The child’s fair daft about him!”
“There’s no question of breaking off the marriage,” he said quickly. “In fact, if I had my way Jean should not be told anything—beyond the bare fact that her wedding must be postponed for a day or two.”
And then, before he could say anything further, the door behind them burst open and Harry Garlett rushed into the room.
His face was drawn and haggard—he looked years older than he had done that morning.
“I hoped to catch that London detective here—but I hear he’s gone. Look here, Maclean. I’ve had time to think over what I ought to do, and I’ve decided to go to London at once and clear the matter up.”
“What matter have you to clear up?” asked Mrs. Maclean.
Garlett walked straight over to where she was standing and looked at her fixedly: