at she disclaimed--such
evidence as I knew of pointed toward Mr. Hall as well as toward Miss
Lloyd.

However at present I was on the trail of those roses, and I determined
to follow that trail to a definite end. I went back to the Crawford
house and as I did not like to ask for Miss Lloyd, I asked for Mrs.
Pierce.

She came down to the drawing room, and greeted me rather more cordially
than I had dared to hope. I had a feeling that both ladies resented my
presence there, for so many women have a prejudice against detectives.

But though nervous and agitated, Mrs. Pierce spoke to me kindly.

"Did you want to see me for anything in particular, Mr. Burroughs?" she
asked.

"Yes, I do, Mrs. Pierce," I replied; "I may as well tell you frankly
that I want to find out all I can about those yellow roses."

"Oh, those roses! Shall I never hear the last of them? I assure you, Mr.
Burroughs, they're of no importance whatever."

"That is not for you to decide," I said quietly, and I began to see
that perhaps a dictatorial attitude might be the best way to manage this
lady. "Are the rest of those flowers still in Miss Lloyd's room? If so I
wish to see them."

"I don't know whether they are or not; but I will find out, and if so
I'll bring them down."

"No," I said, "I will go with you to see them."

"But Florence may be in her room."

"So much the better. She can tell me anything I wish to know."

"Oh, please don't interview her! I'm sure she wouldn't want to talk with
you."

"Very well, then ask her to vacate the room, and I will go there with
you now."

Mrs. Pierce went away, and I began to wonder if I had gone too far or
had overstepped my authority. But it was surely my duty to learn all I
could about Florence Lloyd, and what so promising of suggestions as her
own room?

Mrs. Pierce returned in a few moments, and affably enough she asked me
to accompany her to Miss Lloyd's room.

I did so, and after entering devoted my whole attention to the bunch of
yellow roses, which in a glass vase stood on the window seat. Although
somewhat wilted, they were still beautiful, and without the slightest
doubt were the kind of rose from which the two tell-tale petals had
fallen.

Acting upon a sudden thought, I counted them. There were nine, each one
seemingly with its full complement of petals, though of this I could not
be perfectly certain.

"Now, Mrs.--Pierce," I said, turning to her with an air of authority
which w