es, and the way he'd
parted his sleek, thick, mouse-coloured hair, were all unmistakably
un-English.

As I passed he stared; not rudely, but with a kind of boyish, naive
interest. I wondered what Miss Million would have thought of him.

She's accustomed to giving me her impressions of every fresh person she
sees; talking over each detail of their appearance while I'm doing her
hair.... I mean that's what she used to be accustomed to! If only I knew
when I should do her hair again!

Well, I walked upstairs, and the first hint of coming discomfort met me
on our landing. It took the shape of our sandy-haired chamber-maid. She
was whisking down the corridor, looking flushed and highly indignant
over something or other. As I passed her she pulled up for a moment and
addressed me.

"Your turn next, Miss Smith, I suppose!" she sniffed, with the air of
one who feels that (like Job) she does well to be angry. "You'd better
be getting ready for it!"

"Getting ready for what?" I asked bewilderedly.

But the sandy-haired one, with another little snort, had passed on.

I think I heard her muttering something about "Never had such a thing
happen before! The ideear!" as she disappeared down the corridor. I was
puzzled as I went back into Miss Million's room, that seems to have been
empty for so long. What did the chamber-maid mean? What "thing" had
happened? What was I to prepare for? And it was my "turn" for what?

I was soon to know.

CHAPTER XXI

AN UNEXPECTED INVASION!

I HAD scarcely been in the room ten minutes. I was putting fresh water
into the tall glass jar that held the sheaf of red carnations, when
there came yet another tap at the white door that I have had to open
several times already to-day, but never to any messenger with tidings of
my missing mistress!

This time, to my amazement, it was quite a group of men who asked for
admittance to Miss Million's room!

There was first the frock-coated manager; then a very stout and
black-eyed and fleshy-nosed Hebrew gentleman whom I hadn't seen before;
then a quiet-looking man with a black tie whom I recognised as the one
who had been pointed out to me by the telephone girl as a Scotland Yard
plain-clothes detective; then the young American in the light-grey
tweeds.

I wondered if I were dreaming as this quartette proceeded to walk calmly
in.

Such an invasion!

What could they all want?