The stillness of death reigned over the place; even the little birds, that had before been twittering and flying about, had retired for the night.
Taking up the bunch of flowers, Jerome returned to his hotel.

"What can this mean ?" he would ask himself; "and why should they take my book ?" These questions he put to himself again and again during his walk.

His sleep was broken more than once that night, and he welcomed the early dawn as it made its appearance..