"What's given you such a very curious feeling at this hour of the morning? And what's brought you here, anyhow?"
The gentleman addressed seemed genuinely disturbed.
"I'll tell you, what's brought me if you'll give me time; I'm in a frightful mess, that's what's brought me; but before I tell you anything, you tell me who--who's that girl in the next room?"
Mr. Hooper's bearing betrayed annoyance, which was perhaps caused by the singularity of the other's demeanour.
"The lady in the next room, whom you speak of as 'that girl,' is----"
There was a tapping; the door was opened; the girl in question entered, the "document" over which she had been puzzling in her hand. She crossed to Mr. Hooper.
"I beg your pardon if I am interrupting you, but there is something here which I cannot make out; I thought that perhaps you would not mind telling me what it is before you become really engaged."
Mr. Hooper took the paper which she held out to him, with a glance towards the gentleman who had just now entered, in which there was a hint of mischief.
"Will you allow me to present to you my cousin, Mr. Frank Clifford? Frank, this is Miss Lindsay."
"Lindsay!" Mr. Clifford was staring more than ever. "Lindsay! Not--not--I beg your pardon, but--would you mind telling me if you are related to Mr. Donald Lindsay of Cloverlea?"