"No. I found it as you see it."

"Have you smelled the petals?"

I shook my head. Thereupon, having his eyes fixed upon me with the
strangest expression in their gray depths, Nayland Smith said a
singular thing.

"Pronounce, slowly, the words _Sâkya Mûni,_'" he directed.

I stared at him, scarce crediting my senses; but----

"I mean it!" he rapped. "Do as I tell you."

"Sâkya Mûni," I said, in ever increasing wonder.

Smith laughed unmirthfully.

"Go into the bathroom and thoroughly wash your hands," was his next
order. "Renew the water at least three times." As I turned to fulfill
his instructions, for I doubted no longer his deadly earnestness:
"Beeton!" he called.

Beeton, very white-faced and shaky, came out from the bedroom as I
entered the bathroom, and whist I proceeded carefully to cleanse my
hands I heard Smith interrogating him.

"Have any flowers been brought into the room today, Beeton?"

"Flowers, sir? Certainly not. Nothing has ever been brought in here