“Yes, I do, Mrs. Pierce,” I replied; “I may as well tell you frankly that I want to find out all I can about those yellow roses.”
“Oh, those roses! Shall I never hear the last of them? I assure you, Mr. Burroughs, they're of no importance whatever.”
“That is not for you to decide,” I said quietly, and I began to see that perhaps a dictatorial attitude might be the best way to manage this lady. “Are the rest of those flowers still in Miss Lloyd's room? If so I wish to see them.”
“I don't know whether they are or not; but I will find out, and if so I'll bring them down.”
“No,” I said, “I will go with you to see them.”
“But Florence may be in her room.”
“So much the better. She can tell me anything I wish to know.”
“Oh, please don't interview her! I'm sure she wouldn't want to talk with you.”
“Very well, then ask her to vacate the room, and I will go there with you now.”
Mrs. Pierce went away, and I began to wonder if I had gone too far or had overstepped my authority. But it was surely my duty to learn all I could about Florence Lloyd, and what so promising of suggestions as her own room?