ALLINGHAM GETS BUSYA very young man, exquisitely dressed, entered the Grand Hotel, Spurn Cove, and, advancing up the hall, swept off his hat with a debonair gesture to the girl at the bureau. Miss Philpot greeted him a little shyly with a smile. He laid a bunch of deliciously perfumed violets before her.
“Rather nice, these, eh?” he said. “Picked them up in the town as I was passing. Thought you might like them.”
“Are they for me? Oh, how lovely. Thanks awfully.”
There was a moment’s embarrassed silence.
“I—er—just dropped in as I was passing,” said the youth, “to see how you were getting on after your adventure.”
“That’s really most kind of you,” replied the girl. “I’m quite all right, thanks.”
“Good,” said the young man. “I’m delighted to hear it.” Then he hung irresolute, not know
