"Oh, how lovely they are," cried Céleste, "I am sure the doctor cannot refuse to tell me anything I like to ask him when he sees me in this dress. Now, Mimi, a few drops of Parma Violet--so, that will do." At the foot of the stair-case, just as she was about to enter the drawing-room, she caught sight of Dr. Riche. "Ah, Mademoiselle Céleste, how charming you look--just like my favourite flower, a budding rose." Céleste blushed almost as red as the roses she was wearing, and shyly tripping up to him whispered something in his ear. "Certainly, my dear mademoiselle. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than a little chat tête-a-tête. Let us sit cosily at the shady end of the verandah where we can talk at our ease without fear of interruption." As soon as they were comfortably seated Céleste's impatience and curiosity could no longer be restrained. "Oh, doctor," she began impatiently, "I do so want you to find out for me whatever is the matter with Renée. She was weeping her heart out yesterday, and when I asked her what was the matter she put me off with some lame excuse about a headache, and then the moment that I left her she jumped up from her bed and locked the door. Of course she may have had a real headache, but people don't go into violent fits of weeping on that account, do they?"--and Céleste looked very wise (and very, very sweet, as Riche thought) while putting her question. "Perhaps we might be able to look for some other cause," began Riche, when his companion broke in-- "I cannot help thinking that young Duval is mixed up in it, but then again what has it to do with Renée?" Riche tapped the arm of the long verandah chair in which he was reclining, and remained in deep thought for a moment. "Yes, I have it. Do you remember pinning the orchid in my button-hole to-day?" he asked at length. "You know very well I do," replied Céleste, blushing in spite of herself. "Did you notice anything peculiar about Pierre Duval's manner?" "Let me see," said Céleste, trying to recall the events of the morning. "Yes, I remember seeing him put something in a cup of coffee, I think it was sugar or cream, but I was too excited over the race to notice exactly what it was he did." "Was he finishing his coffee, or what?" asked Riche, watching her face carefully. "No, it was not that. I am certain that he was not drinking it, as he certainly did not raise the cup to his lips." "Are you perfectly sure of that?" "Certain," said Céleste convincingly, "I told you that I was not observing him very carefully, but I feel sure I should have noticed if he had been drinking it, because he stood right in front of me at the other end of the lawn." "Oh! Oh!" said Riche, "Please stay here, mademoiselle, I will be back in a few minutes. In the meantime please do not breathe a word of our conversation to anyone." "Is it so serious then?" asked Céleste. "I can't say yet, but please do as I ask you."