drunken boy, did you? A rotten, low-down trick!"
"That's better," he said. "Now we're getting at something."
"What did he say to you?" she demanded.
"Nothing of which I could make sense," he said. "Surprising as it may seem, I refrained from pumping a drunken boy. I am also refraining from pretending, in order to make you talk, a knowledge I don't possess."
She glanced up at him in a puzzled way. "Yes. Do you mind telling me why?"
"Natural decency," said Mr. Amberley.
"Mark talks a lot of nonsense when he's drunk," she said. She seemed to consider him. "I wonder what you think I am?" she said with a crooked smile.
"Do you? I'll tell you, if you like. An objectionable little fool."
"Thanks. Not a murderess, by any chance?"
"If I thought that, you would not be standing here now, Miss Shirley Brown. You are obviously playing some game which is probably silly and almost certainly dangerous. If you let that brother of yours out alone you'll very soon find yourself in a police cell. As an accomplice he's rotten."
"Possibly," she said, "but I don't want another. I believe in playing a lone hand."
"Very well," he replied. "Then I'll say — au revoir!"
"Dear me, am I going to see some more of you?" she inquired.
"You are going to see much more of me than you want to," said Mr. Amberley grimly.
"I've done that already," she informed him in a voice of great sweetness.
He had reached the door, but he turned. "Then we are mutual sufferers," he said, and went out.
She gave a sudden laugh and ran after him as far as the front door. "You're a beast," she called; "but I rather like you, I think."
Mr. Amberley looked back over his shoulder. "I wish I could return the compliment," he answered, "but honesty compels me to say that I do not like you at all. So long!"
----
Chapter Four
Odd how a mere strip of black velvet alters people," remarked Corkran, surveying the shifting crowd critically. "I've made three bloomers already."
Amberley was dangling his mask by the strings. "You can usually tell by the voice."
"You can't always. Oh, hell!"
"What's the matter now?"
"This blasted sword again," said Faust disgustedly. He hitched it round. "Can't dance with it, can't move a step without jabbing somebody in the shins with it. I'm going to park it somewhere soon and trust to luck that Joan doesn't spot it."
Joan, a dazzlingly fair Marguerite, passed at that moment in the arms of an Arab sheikh. She caught sight of the two in the doorway and slid out of the dance, drawing her partner with her. "Haven't you got a partner for this one?" she asked in concern. "Point me out somebody you'd like to be introduced to."
"My dear old soul, I can't dance with this sword on," protested Corkran. "I've made myself fairly unpopular as it is."
"That," said the sheikh, "is putting it mildly. I've got about an inch of skin missing from my calf."
"Oh, dear," said Joan, looking distressed. "Can't you manage to keep it out of people's way, darling?"
"I can," said Faust. "I can go and take the blighter off."
"But you look so awfully nice with it on," she sighed. "You ought to lay your hand on the hilt, like that."
"In the best circles," interposed Amberley, "it was never considered really good form to dance with a sword at one's side."
"Wasn't it?" said Joan doubtfully. "But I've seen pictures…'
"That's good enough for me," announced Faust, and prepared to depart.
As he turned, the end of the scabbard dug into a complete stranger who looked furious and said icily that it was quite all right. "That makes the third time I've caught that bloke with it," whispered Faust, not without satisfaction.
"Perhaps you had better do without it," Joan said reluctantly. She turned her attention to Amberley. "You mustn't take off your mask till midnight, you know," she reproved him.
He put it on again. "Why are masks de rigueur, Marguerite?" he inquired.
"You mean we ought just to have had dominoes with them? I know, but I specially wanted a
"That's better," he said. "Now we're getting at something."
"What did he say to you?" she demanded.
"Nothing of which I could make sense," he said. "Surprising as it may seem, I refrained from pumping a drunken boy. I am also refraining from pretending, in order to make you talk, a knowledge I don't possess."
She glanced up at him in a puzzled way. "Yes. Do you mind telling me why?"
"Natural decency," said Mr. Amberley.
"Mark talks a lot of nonsense when he's drunk," she said. She seemed to consider him. "I wonder what you think I am?" she said with a crooked smile.
"Do you? I'll tell you, if you like. An objectionable little fool."
"Thanks. Not a murderess, by any chance?"
"If I thought that, you would not be standing here now, Miss Shirley Brown. You are obviously playing some game which is probably silly and almost certainly dangerous. If you let that brother of yours out alone you'll very soon find yourself in a police cell. As an accomplice he's rotten."
"Possibly," she said, "but I don't want another. I believe in playing a lone hand."
"Very well," he replied. "Then I'll say — au revoir!"
"Dear me, am I going to see some more of you?" she inquired.
"You are going to see much more of me than you want to," said Mr. Amberley grimly.
"I've done that already," she informed him in a voice of great sweetness.
He had reached the door, but he turned. "Then we are mutual sufferers," he said, and went out.
She gave a sudden laugh and ran after him as far as the front door. "You're a beast," she called; "but I rather like you, I think."
Mr. Amberley looked back over his shoulder. "I wish I could return the compliment," he answered, "but honesty compels me to say that I do not like you at all. So long!"
----
Chapter Four
Odd how a mere strip of black velvet alters people," remarked Corkran, surveying the shifting crowd critically. "I've made three bloomers already."
Amberley was dangling his mask by the strings. "You can usually tell by the voice."
"You can't always. Oh, hell!"
"What's the matter now?"
"This blasted sword again," said Faust disgustedly. He hitched it round. "Can't dance with it, can't move a step without jabbing somebody in the shins with it. I'm going to park it somewhere soon and trust to luck that Joan doesn't spot it."
Joan, a dazzlingly fair Marguerite, passed at that moment in the arms of an Arab sheikh. She caught sight of the two in the doorway and slid out of the dance, drawing her partner with her. "Haven't you got a partner for this one?" she asked in concern. "Point me out somebody you'd like to be introduced to."
"My dear old soul, I can't dance with this sword on," protested Corkran. "I've made myself fairly unpopular as it is."
"That," said the sheikh, "is putting it mildly. I've got about an inch of skin missing from my calf."
"Oh, dear," said Joan, looking distressed. "Can't you manage to keep it out of people's way, darling?"
"I can," said Faust. "I can go and take the blighter off."
"But you look so awfully nice with it on," she sighed. "You ought to lay your hand on the hilt, like that."
"In the best circles," interposed Amberley, "it was never considered really good form to dance with a sword at one's side."
"Wasn't it?" said Joan doubtfully. "But I've seen pictures…'
"That's good enough for me," announced Faust, and prepared to depart.
As he turned, the end of the scabbard dug into a complete stranger who looked furious and said icily that it was quite all right. "That makes the third time I've caught that bloke with it," whispered Faust, not without satisfaction.
"Perhaps you had better do without it," Joan said reluctantly. She turned her attention to Amberley. "You mustn't take off your mask till midnight, you know," she reproved him.
He put it on again. "Why are masks de rigueur, Marguerite?" he inquired.
"You mean we ought just to have had dominoes with them? I know, but I specially wanted a
Similar Books
