"Perhaps there has been some mistake," he suggested quietly. "My English is sometimes not very good. I would not dream of trying to rob the young lady. I have not lost any pocketbook. I have not descended lower down in the hotel than this floor."
Van Teyl waved him away, accepted his farewell salutation, and waited until the door was closed.
"Look here, Pamela," he protested, turning almost appealingly towards her, "my brain wasn't made for this sort of thing. What in thunder does it all mean?"
Pamela looked at the fragments of paper upon the floor and sank back in an easy chair.
"Jimmy," she confided, "I don't know."
CHAPTER XV
Pamela opened her eyes the next morning upon a distinctly pleasing sight. At the foot of her bed was an enormous basket of pink carnations. On the counterpane by her side lay a smaller cluster of twelve very beautiful dark red Gloire de Dijon roses. Attached to these latter was a note.
"When did these flowers come, Leah?" Pamela asked the maid who was moving about the room.
"An hour ago, madam," the girl told her.
"Read the name on the card," Pamela directed, pointing to the mass of pink blossoms.