Lady Dene nodded brightly, whilst Gladys Norman stooped to pick up the benzine bottle, then with a motion of her head indicated to William Johnson that his presence was no longer required. Reluctantly the lad turned, and a moment later the door closed slowly behind him.
"I want you to help me," said Lady Dene, dropping the roses on to the leaf of Gladys Norman's typing-table. "These are for Mr. Sage."
"For the Chief?" cried Gladys Norman in astonishment. Then she laughed. The idea of a riot of red roses in Malcolm Sage's room struck her as funny.
"You see," said Lady Dene, "this is the birthday of the Malcolm Sage
Bureau, and I'm going to decorate his room."
"I don't——" began Gladys Norman hesitatingly, when Lady Dene interrupted her.
"It's all right," she cried, "I'll take all the responsibility."
"But we've got no vases," objected Gladys Norman.
"My chauffeur has some in the car, and there are heaps more roses," she added.
"More?" cried Gladys Norman aghast.
"Heaps," repeated Lady Dene, dimpling with laughter at the consternation on Gladys Norman's face. "Ah! here they are," as the door opened and a mass of white roses appeared, with a florid face peering over the top.