Too confounded for coherent speculation, the Baroness continued to stare at this baffling effusion.  Who Lord Tulliwuddle and Eva were; why this glimpse into their drama (for such it appeared to be) should be forwarded to her; and where the Baron von Blitzenberg came into the story—­these, among a dozen other questions, flickered chaotically through her mind for some minutes.  Again and again she studied the cryptogram, till at last a few definite conclusions began to crystallize out of the confusion.  That the “tenderer plant” symbolized the lady herself, that she was a person to be regarded with extreme suspicion, and that emphatically the bouquet was never originally intended for the Baroness von Blitzenberg, all became settled convictions.  The fact that she knew Tulliwuddle to be an existing peerage afforded her some relief; yet the longer she pondered on the problem of Rudolph’s part in the episode, the more uneasy grew her mind.

Composing her face before the mirror till it resumed its normal round-eyed placidity, she locked the letter and its contents in a safe place, and sought out her mother.

“Did you get any letter, dear, by the last post?” inquired the Countess as soon as she had entered the room.

“Nothing of importance, mamma.”

That so sweet and docile a daughter should stoop to deceit was inconceivable.  The Countess merely frowned her disappointment and resumed the novel which she was beguiling the hours between eating and eating again.

“Mamma,” said the Baroness presently, “can you tell me whether heather is found in many other European countries?”

The Countess raised her firmly penciled eyebrows.

“In some, I believe.  What a remarkable question, Alicia.”

“I was thinking about Russia,” said Alicia with an innocent air.  “Do you suppose heather grows there?”

The Countess remembered the floral symptoms displayed by Ophelia, and grew a trifle nervous.

“My child, what is the matter?”

“Oh, nothing,” replied Alicia hastily.

A short silence followed, during which she was conscious of undergoing a curious scrutiny.

“By the way, mamma,” she found courage to ask at length, “do you know anything about Lord Tulliwuddle?”

Lady Grillyer continued uneasy.  These irrelevant questions undoubtedly indicated a mind unhinged.

“I was acquainted with the late Lord Tulliwuddle.”

“Oh, he is dead, then?”

“Certainly.”

Alicia’s face clouded for a moment, and then a ray of hope lit it again.

“Is there a present Lord Tulliwuddle?”

“I believe so.  Why do you ask?”

“I heard some one speak of him the other day.”

She spoke so naturally that her mother began to feel relieved.

“Sir Justin Wallingford can tell you all about the family, if you are curious,” she remarked.

“Sir Justin!”