A close acquaintance with crime—the feeling that a robber has handled her personal effects, mauled her apparel, trodden her own sanctuary—is bound to jangle a sensitive woman's nerves. The less the girls thought upon the matter, the better for them….
Orders were given, a sofa was drawn towards the hearth, Jonah went to seek some champagne, and I slipped on a coat and left the hotel for the garage.
When I returned some twenty minutes later, Adèle had discovered a piano and was playing "Whispering," while the others were dancing with as much freedom from care as they might have displayed at a night-club.
When I laid the scent on the table, the dance died, and Daphne, Adèle, and Jill crowded about me.
"One for each of you," I said. "With my love. But wait one moment." I turned to Adèle. "How did you tell the 'Red Violets' from the others?"
"It's paper had a line——"
I pointed to the three parcels.
"So have they all," I said. "It depends on the way the light strikes it. One moment you see it, and the next you can't."
My wife examined the packages in turn.
"You're perfectly right," she said. Then, "Good Heavens!" she cried.
"Perhaps I gave that woman the wrong one, after all."