s were those of someone constrained
to commit sacrilege against her will.

"Now get some water, Smithson."

"Water, my Lady?" repeated Smithson, looking about him vaguely, as
Moses might have done in the wilderness.

"Yes; ask the lad. Be quick," cried Lady Dene, with deft fingers
beginning to arrange the roses in the vases. "Oh! please help me,"
she cried, turning to Gladys Norman, who had stood watching her as
if fascinated.

"But----" she began, when Lady Dene interrupted her.

"Quick!" cried Lady Dene excitedly, "or he'll be here before we've
finished."

Then, convinced that it was the work of Kismet, or the devil, Gladys
Norman threw herself into the task of arranging the flowers.

When Thompson arrived some ten minutes later, he stood at the door
of Malcolm Sage's room "listening with his mouth," as Gladys Norman
had expressed it. When he had regained the power of speech, he
uttered two words.

"Jumping Je-hosh-o-phat!"; but into them he precipitated all the
emotion of his being.

"Go away, Tommy, we're busy," cried Gladys Norman over her shoulder.
"Do you hear; go away," she repeated, stamping her foot angrily as
he made no movement to obey, and Thompson slid away and closed the
door, convinced that in the course of the next half-hour there would
be the very deuce to pay.

He knew the Chief better than Gladys, he told himself, and if there
were one thing calculated to bring out all the sternness in his
nature it was flippancy, and what could be more flippant than
decorating the room of a great detective with huge bowls and vases
of red and white roses.

Regardless of Thompson's forebodings, Lady Dene smiled to herself as
she put the finishing touches to the last vase, whilst Gladys Norman
gathered up the litter of leaves and stalks that lay on the floor,
throwing them into the fireplace. She then removed the last spots of
water from Malcolm Sage's table.

Lady Dene took from her bag a small leather-case, which she opened
and placed in the centre of the table opposite Malcolm Sage's chair.
It was a platinum ring of antique workmanship, with a carbuchon of
lapis lazuli.

"Oh, how lovely!" cried Gladys Norman, as she gazed at the ring's
exquisite workmanship.

Presently, the two girls stepped back to gaze at their handiwork. In
a few minutes they had transformed an austere, business-man's room
into what looked like a miniature rose-show. From every point red
and white roses seemed to nod their f