He summoned John and said:

"Go to the florist and order a bunch of Indian lilies. The man knows
what I mean. If he hasn't any, let him procure some by noon."

John did not move a muscle, but heaven only knew whether he did not
suspect the connection between the Indian lilies and the romance of
the past night. It was in his power to adduce precedents.

It was an old custom of Niebeldingk's--a remnant of his half out-lived
Don Juan years--to send a bunch of Indian lilies to those women who
had granted him their supreme favours. He always sent the flowers next
morning. Their symbolism was plain and delicate: In spite of what has
taken place you are as lofty and as sacred in my eyes as these pallid,
alien flowers whose home is beside the Ganges. Therefore have the
kindness--not to annoy me with remorse.

It was a delicate action and--a cynical one.




Chapter II.


At noon--Niebeldingk had just returned from his morning canter--the
visitor, previously announced, was ushered in.

He was a robust young fellow, long of limb and broad of shoulder. His
face was round and tanned, with hot, dark eyes. With merry boldness,