“Ah!” thought Van Vernet; “it’s a she, then.” Aloud, he said: “You have not given the lady’s name?”
“You would find it out, of course?”
“Of course; necessarily.”
“The lady is my – is Mrs. Warburton, the mistress of the house.”
“Ah!” thought the detective; “the old Turk wants me to shadow his wife!”
By a very natural blunder he had fancied himself in communication with Archibald, instead of Alan, Warburton.
“Have you any suspicions? Can you give me any hint upon which to act?” he asked.
“I might say this much,” ventured Alan, after a moment’s hesitation: “The lady has made, I believe, a mercenary marriage and she is hiding something from her husband and friends.”
“I see,” said Vernet. And then, laughing inwardly, he thought: “A case of jealousy!”
In a few words Alan Warburton described to Vernet the “Sunlight,” costume worn by Leslie, and then they separated, Vernet going, not in search of “Sunlight,” but of the Goddess of Liberty.
What he found was this:
In the almost deserted music room stood the Goddess of Liberty, gazing down into the face of a woman in the robes of Sunlight, and both of them engaged in earnest conversation.
He watched them until he saw the Goddess lift the hand of Sunlight with a gesture of graceful reverence, bow over it, and turn away. Then he went back to the place where he had left his patron. He found the object of his quest still seated in the alcove, alone and absorbed in thought.
“I beg your pardon for intruding upon your solitude,” began the detective hastily, at the same time seating himself close beside Alan; “but there is a lady here whose conduct is, to say the least, mysterious. As a detective, it becomes my duty to look after her a little, to see that she does not leave this house until I can follow her.”
“Well?” with marked indifference in his tone.
“If she could be detained,” went on Vernet, “by – say, by keeping some one constantly beside her, so that she cannot leave the house without being observed – ”
Alan Warburton threw back his head.
“Pardon me,” he said, “but I object to thus persecuting a lady, and a guest.”
“But if I tell you that this lady is a man in silken petticoats?”
“What!”
“And that he seems on very free and friendly terms with your wife.”
“With my wi – ”
Alan Warburton stopped short and looked sharply at the eyes gazing out from behind the yellow mask.
Did this detective think himself conversing with Archibald? If so – well, what then? He shrank from anything like familiarity with this man before him. Why not leave the mistake as it stood? There could be no harm in it, and he, Alan, would thus be free from future annoyance.
“I will not remove my mask,” thought Alan. “He is not likely to see Archibald, and no harm can come of it. In fact it will be better so. It would seem more natural for him to be investigating his wife’s secrets than for me.”
So the mistake was not corrected – the mistake that was almost providential for Alan Warburton, but that proved a very false move in the game that Van Vernet was about to play.
There was but one flaw in the plan of the proposed incognito.
Alan’s voice was a peculiarly mellow tenor, and Van Vernet never forgot a voice once heard.
“Did you say that this disguised person knows – Mrs. Warburton?”
“I did.”
“Who is the fellow, and what disguise does he wear?”
“I am unable to give his name. He is costumed as the Goddess of Liberty.”
“Oh!”
Van Vernet had his own reasons for withholding Richard Stanhope’s name.
“So!” he thought, while he waited for Alan’s next words. “I’ll spoil your plans for this night, Dick Stanhope! I wonder how our Chief will like to hear that ‘Stanhope the reliable,’ neglects his duty to go masquerading in petticoats, the better to make love to another man’s wife.”
For Van Vernet, judging Stanhope as a man of the world judges men, had leaped to the hasty, but natural, conclusion, that his masquerade in the garb of the mother of his country, was in the character of a lover.
“Vernet,” said Alan at last, “you are a clever fellow! Let me see; there are half a dozen young men here who are ripe for novelty – set the whisper afloat that behind that blue and white mask is concealed a beautiful and mysterious intruder, and they will hang like leeches about her, hoping to discover her identity, or see her unmask.”
“It’s a capital plan!” cried Vernet, “and it can’t be put into execution too soon.”
CHAPTER X.
“I AM YOUR SHADOW.”
It is not a pleasing task to Alan Warburton, but, spurred on by Vernet, and acting according to his suggestions, it is undertaken and accomplished. Within twenty minutes, two gay, fun-loving young fellows, one habited in the garb of a Celestial, the other dressed as a Troubador, are hastening from room to room in search of the mysterious Goddess of Liberty.
“Who was the Mask that posted us about this mysterious lady?” queries the Celestial, as he lifts a portierie for his comrade to pass.
“If I am not mistaken, it was Warburton.”
“Isn’t that a queer move for His Dignity?”
“Well, I don’t know. Presuming the fair Mystery to be an intruder, he may think it the easiest way of putting her to rout. At any rate there’s a little spice in it.”
And there is spice in it. Before the evening closes, the festive Celestial is willing to vote this meeting with a veiled mystery an occasion full of flavor, and worthy to be remembered.
Leaving the pair in full chase after the luckless, petticoat-encumbered Stanhope, we follow Van Vernet, who, having set this trap for the feet of his unconscious comrade, is about to play his next card.
Gliding among the maskers, he makes his way to a side entrance, and passing the liveried servant on guard at the door with a careless jest, he leaves the house, and hastens where, a few rods distant, a solitary figure is standing.
“How long have you been here, Harvey?” he asks hurriedly, but with noticeable affability.
“About half an hour.”
“Good; now listen, for you are to begin your business. Throw on that domino and follow me; the servants have seen me in conversation with the master of the house and they will not require your credentials. Keep near me, and follow me to the dressing-rooms; by-and-by we will exchange costumes there, after which, you will personate me.”
“But, – ”
“There will be no trouble; just mingle with the throng, saying nothing to anyone. No one will address you who could doubt your identity; I will arrange all that. You comprehend?”
“I think so. You are wanted, or you want to be, in two places at once. This being the least important, you place me here as figure-head, while you fill the bill at the other place.”
“You have grasped the situation, Harvey. Let us go in, and be sure you do justice, in my stead, to the banquet – and the Warburton champagne.”
Van Vernet had planned well. Knowing the importance of the Raid in hand for that night, he had