added, and, exercising a self-restraint close upon
the saintly, did not even glance toward the
heap which was Mr. Arp, "I notice she left her
flowers!"


Ariel was not the only one who climbed the dingy
stairs that day and read the pencilled script upon
Joe's door: "Will not return until evening. J.
Louden." Many others came, all exceedingly unlike
the first visitor: some were quick and watchful,
dodging into the narrow entrance furtively; some
smiled contemptuously as long as they were in view
of the street, drooping wanly as they reached the
stairs: some were brazen and amused; and some
were thin and troubled. Not all of them read the
message, for not all could read, but all looked
curiously through the half-opened door at the many
roses which lifted their heads delicately from a
water-pitcher on Joe's desk to scent that dusty
place with their cool breath.

Most of these clients, after a grunt of
disappointment, turned and went away; though there
were a few, either unable to read the message or
so pressed by anxiety that they disregarded it,
who entered the room and sat down to wait for
the absentee. [There were plenty of chairs in the
office now, bookcases also, and a big steel safe.]
But when evening came and the final gray of twilight