“Easily,” was the cool reply. “I left Sedgwick on the six o'clock train. On my way to the station I stopped at a florist's and ordered some roses sent to Miss Lloyd. If they did not arrive until she was at dinner, they were not sent immediately, as the florist promised.” “When did you receive them, Miss Lloyd?” “They were in my room when I went up there at about ten o'clock last evening,” she replied, and her face showed her wonderment at these explicit questions. The coroner's face showed almost as much wonderment, and I said: “Perhaps, Mr. Monroe, I may ask a few questions right here.” “Certainly,” he replied. And thus it was, for the first time in my life, I directly addressed Florence Lloyd. “When you went up to your room at ten o'clock, the flowers were there?” I asked, and I felt a most uncomfortable pounding at my heart because of the trap I was deliberately laying for her. But it had to be done, and even as I spoke, I experienced a glad realization, that if she were innocent, my questions could do her no harm. “Yes,” she repeated, and for the first time favored me with a look of interest. I doubt if she knew my name or scarcely knew why I was there. “And you pinned one on your gown?” “I tucked it in among the laces at my throat, yes.” “Miss Lloyd, do you still persist in saying you did not go down-stairs again, to your uncle's office?” “I did not,” she repeated, but she turned white, and her voice was scarce more than a whisper. “Then,” said I, “how did two petals of a yellow rose happen to be on the floor in the office this morning?” VII. YELLOW ROSES If any one expected to see Miss Lloyd faint or collapse at this crisis he must have been disappointed, and as I had confidently expected such a scene, I was completely surprised at her quick recovery of self-possession. For an instant she had seemed stunned by my question, and her eyes had wandered vaguely round the room, as if in a vain search for help. Her glance returned to me, and in that instant I gave her an answering look, which, quite involuntarily on my part, meant a grave and serious offer of my best and bravest efforts in her behalf. Disingenuous she might be, untruthful she might be, yes, even a criminal she might be, but in any case I was her sworn ally forever. Not that I meant to defeat the ends of justice, but I was ready to fight for her or with her, until justice should defeat us. Of course she didn't know all this, though I couldn't help hoping she read a little of it as my eyes looked into hers. If so, she recognized it only by a swift withdrawal of her own glance. Again she looked round at her various friends. Then her eyes rested on Gregory Hall, and, though he gave her no responsive glance, for some reason her poise returned like a flash. It was as if she had been invigorated by a cold douche.