"Yes," came the answer. Her heart missed a beat. Might she speak to him? Silence a moment. Then, "Mr. de Cordoba is out of town and will not return for two weeks." Carmelita hung up the transmitter utterly depressed. She had really managed to work up considerable hope from her father's presence so near, and now it was shattered. And he had not tried to get in touch with her before leaving.
She looked around to find the maid standing in her boudoir door with a large, fragrant bouquet of flowers. Who could be sending them? Rao-Singh? The maid approached with them and Carmelita could not restrain an exclamation, "Oh, aren't they beautiful!" Dudley's Italian florist had fairly outdone himself. She pressed her burning cheeks into their cool, sweet depths. There was a card buried in the mass of red roses:
Dudley! And he was coming here. "You may take them, Marie," she said to the maid calmly, "and put them in water. There are vases in the hall closet. And be very careful with them." She handed over the flowers and the maid disappeared.
