I WAS _wrong_.

She will have another caller first.

In fact, she has had another caller. When we got back to our--I really
must remember to say her--rooms at the Cecil we were met, even as I
unlocked the door, by a whiff of wonderful perfume, heady, intoxicating.
The scent of carnations. A great sheaf of the flowers was laid on the
table near the window. Red carnations, Carmen's carnations, the flowers
that always seem to me to stand for something thrilling.... In the
language of flowers it is "a red rose" that spells the eternal phrase,
"I love you." But how much more appropriate would be one handful of the
jagged petals of my favourite blood-red carnations!

"Lor'! Ain't these beauties!" cried Million, sniffing rapturously. "Talk
about doin' things in style! Well, it's a pretty classy kind of hotel
where they gives you cut flowers like this for your table decorations."

"My dear Million, you don't suppose the hotel provided these
carnations," I laughed, "as it provided the palms downstairs?"

"Lor'! Do I pay more money for 'em, then, Miss--Smith, I mean?"

"Pay? Nonsense. The flowers have been sent in by some one," I said.

"Sent? Who'd ever send flowers to me?"

I thought I could guess. I considered it a very pretty attention of Mr.
Reginald Brace, Million's only new friend so far, the young bank
manager.

I said: "Look and see; isn't there a note with the flowers?"

Million took up the fragrant sheaf. Something white was tucked in among
the deep red blooms.

"There is a card," she said. She took it out, and glanced at it. I heard
her exclaim in a startled voice: "Lor'! Who may he be when he's at
home?"

I looked up quickly.

"What?" I said. "Don't you remember who Mr. Brace is?"

"I remember Mr. Brace all right, Miss--Smith, I mean. But these here
ain't from no Mr. Brace," said Million, in a voice of amazement. "Look
at the card!"

I took the card and read it.

On one side was:

"To Miss Million, with kindest greetings from an old friend of
the family!"

On the other side was the name:

"The Honourable James Burke, Ballyneck, Ireland."

"The Honourable!" echoed Million, breathing heavily on the H in
"honourable." "Now who in the wide world is the gentleman called all
that, who thinks he's a friend of my family (and one that hasn't any
family), whoever's he?"

"It's very mysterious," I agreed, staring from the flowers to the card.

"Must be some mistake!" said Million.