"Can you," he inquired, "tell me if Mrs. Monmouth's maid is in. I have a message to give her for her mistress."
"I can take any message you wish, sir."
"Thank you, no," said John, smiling at him; "what I have to say is—is rather personal to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth."
"Very good, sir," answered the sedate servant, and bowed. "Will you kindly step into the morning-room."
John went into the morning-room, moved to the window and looked into Grosvenor Place, out over the broad smooth road to the high brick wall surrounding the royal gardens. A few minutes elapsed, and then Cecily, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's maid, came quietly in.
"You wish to see me, sir?"
John turned.
"Yes, Cecily." He looked into her face, noted her bead-black eyes, her olive skin, and the slight tendency to a moustache at the corner of each lip. "Cecily," he said, "I have really come to ask your advice on a little personal matter." Cecily looked at him with an unreadable expression on her sullen countenance. "I want to give Mrs. Beecher Monmouth a present," went on John. "A little matter of a pair of pearl ear-rings. Can you tell me if she is fond of pearls?"
"Pearls, monsieur; oh, no!" Cecily shook her head. "Rubies or emeralds, yes, monsieur, but pearls, no."
"Oh," resumed John, "she doesn't care for pearls then?"