He laughed. “Appearances are so deceptive,” he said. Then quite suddenly and rather adroitly he stepped past me into the passage. “Ah,” he said, looking round, “if I could have a little place like this, furnished and arranged with the exquisite taste that is shown here, I should be perfectly content.” “Will you please go away?” I said. “Certainly, mademoiselle, in one moment. Your kindness will permit me just to see the arrangement of the rooms, so that I may determine whether a flat here would be suitable for me. You have made me a little nervous by casting doubt upon it.” “You cannot see any of the rooms,” I said. “You must go at once.” “And if not?” He smiled. “If not, I shall fetch a policeman and hand you over to him.” He still smiled. “Believe me,” he said, “I am sorry indeed to give you this extra trouble, but I am afraid I must ask you to fetch that policeman. In your absence I can inspect the rooms at my leisure. I can at least promise you that I will take the greatest care not to injure them in any way.” Quickly and adroitly he slipped past me again and went straight into the kitchen. I held my breath and listened, and did not fetch the policeman. In a moment he came out of the kitchen again. “No policeman yet?” he said. “You are kind to me, and I will repay it by leaving at once. I see,” he added meaningly, “that you keep your kitchen window wide open. The English love fresh air, do they not? Good morning.” So that was all right. The man behind the door had escaped. * * * * * * Two days later I received two surprises. The van of a West-End florist degraded itself by stopping at my flat and delivered a hamper of exquisite flowers and fruit. I had ordered nothing, and could not at first believe that they were intended for me. But a short note was enclosed. “Permit me, dear mademoiselle, with these few flowers to make my apologies look prettier than my rudeness the other day. I shall not take the basement flat after all.” The evening post brought me another letter, registered, containing five Bank of England twenty-pound notes, and another letter. “You seemed, mademoiselle, to think so little of your great kindness to me on Tuesday, that I think you should have some souvenir of it. It would be idle of me to match my taste against yours, and with renewed gratitude I leave the choice to you.” Neither letter bore any address or any signature. At first I was a little puzzled to make out how they had got my name. But there were many ways in which that might have been managed. A simple inquiry at the house agents would have been one of them. It was impossible to return their presents, and, to be quite honest, I doubt if I should have returned them if it had been possible. For the next few days I fed on peaches and bought things and lived gloriously. * * * * * *