as becoming difficult to maintain, "where are the roses which
Miss Lloyd admits having pinned to her gown?"

"Mercy! I don't know," exclaimed Mrs. Pierce, looking bewildered. "I
suppose she threw them away."

"I suppose she did," I returned; "would she not be likely to throw them
in the waste basket?"

"She might," returned Mrs. Pierce, turning toward an ornate affair of
wicker-work and pink ribbons.

Sure enough, in the basket, among a few scraps of paper, were two
exceedingly withered yellow roses. I picked them out and examined them,
but in their present state it was impossible to tell whether they had
lost any petals or not, so I threw them back in the basket.

Mrs. Pierce seemed to care nothing for evidence or deduction in the
matter, but began to lament the carelessness of the chambermaid who had
not emptied the waste basket the day before.

But I secretly blessed the delinquent servant, and began pondering on
this new development of the rose question. The nine roses in the vase
and the two in the basket made but eleven, and the florist had told me
that he had sent a dozen. Where was the twelfth?

The thought occurred to me that Miss Lloyd might have put away one as a
sentimental souvenir, but to my mind she did not seem the kind of a girl
to do that. I knew my reasoning was absurd, for what man can predicate
what a woman will do? but at the same time I could not seem to imagine
the statuesque, imperial Miss Lloyd tenderly preserving a rose that her
lover had given her.

But might not Gregory Hall have taken one of the dozen for himself
before sending the rest? This was merely surmise, but it was a
possibility, and at any rate the twelfth rose was not in Miss Lloyd's
room.

Therefore the twelfth rose was a factor to be reckoned with, a bit of
evidence to be found; and I determined to find it.

I asked Mrs. Pierce to arrange for me an interview with Miss Lloyd, but
the elder lady seemed doubtful.

"I'm quite sure she won't see you," she said, "for she has declared she
will see no one until after the funeral. But if you want me to ask her
anything for you, I will do so."

"Very well," I said, surprised at her willingness; "please ask Miss
Lloyd if she knows what became of the twelfth yellow rose; and beg her
to appreciate the fact that it is a vital point in the case."

Mrs. Pierce agreed to do this, and as I went down the stairs she
promised to join me in the library a few moments later.

She kept