fancy-dress ball, and masks are such fun that I thought we might have them too."
"Your brother doesn't wear one, I notice," remarked the sheikh, nodding to where Fountain, an imposing Cardinal Wolsey, stood talking to Mme de Pompadour.
"No, because he's the host. Shall I find you a partner, Mephistopheles?"
Amberley was watching a girl at the other side of the ballroom. "Will you introduce me to the contadina?" he asked.
Joan glanced in the girl's direction. "Yes, of course, but I don't know who she is."
"Kitty Crosby, isn't it?" said the sheikh.
"I thought Kitty was coming as a gipsy."
"Oh, was she? It might be Miss Halifax. No, I don't think it is, though."
Joan looked up at Amberley. "That's the fun of it. Do you know, I didn't recognise one of my oldest friends? Come on, I'll introduce you."
She led him to where the contadina was standing. "May I introduce Mephistopheles?" she said, smiling.
The contadina's eyes gleamed through the slits of her mask. She bowed and cast a fleeting glance up at the scarlet-dad figure before her.
"Shall we dance?" said Mr. Amberley.
"I should like to," she replied.
He drew her out into the room and took her in his arms. She danced well, but showed no desire to talk. Mr. Amberley guided her through the maze of shifting couple and said presently: "I wonder whether you are Miss Halifax or Miss Crosby?"
The red lips curved. "Ah!" said the contadina.
"Or neither?" pursued Mr. Amberley.
The hand in his moved slightly. "You will see at unmasking, Mephistopheles."
"I wonder?" said Mr. Amberley. He was aware of her gaze searching his face and smiled down at her. "A bit a mob, isn't it?" he said. "Do you think the Fountains can really know everyone here tonight?"
"Oh, but surely!"
"In these days of gate-crashing . ." murmured Mr. Amberley.
"I don't think that is done in the country," she said.
"I expect you know much more about it than I do," he agreed politely.
The music came to an end. Mr. Amberley did not join. in the clapping, but led his partner to the door. "You must let me get you something to drink," he said. He nodded towards a sofa in an alcove of the hall. "Will you wait for me there?"
The contadina appeared to consider. Then she shrugged. "Very well."
He found her seated on the sofa when he returned with two glasses. "You haven't run away," he observed, and handed her one of the glasses.
"Why should I?" she said coolly.
"I thought you might have grown impatient. There's a bit of a barge round the refreshments." He sat down beside her. "You remind me so much of someone I've met," he said thoughtfully. "Now who can it be?"
She sipped her hock-cup. "Funny," she said. "I don't seem to know you at all. You don't live here, do you?"
"Oh no!" he replied. "I'm merely a bird of passage. I'm staying with the Matthews'."
"Yes? For long?"
"No, just till I've cleared up a little matter that's interesting me."
She inclined her head. "I see. It sounds most intriguing."
He looked down at her. "Somehow I don't think you can be the girl I had in mind."
"No? Who is she?"
"Oh, nobody you would be likely to know. Rather a callow young thing."
She stiffened. "Really, I can't pretend to be flattered."
"But didn't I say I felt sure you couldn't be her?" he said. "Let's talk of something else. Are you fond of shooting?"
"I have never done any," she replied in a voice of dangerous calm.
"No? It's an odd thing, but nine women out of ten would rather have nothing to do with firearms." He offered her his open cigarette case. "You occasionally find an exception to the rule. I met a girl the other day who carried a businesslike automatic about with her.. Fully loaded."
She took a cigarette from his case; her hand was quite steady. "In these days it's probably wise to carry a gun after dark," she said.
He paused in the act of striking a match. "Did I say it was after dark?" he asked, surprised.
"I assumed that it must be," she replied rather sharply. "Wasn't it?"
He held the match
"Your brother doesn't wear one, I notice," remarked the sheikh, nodding to where Fountain, an imposing Cardinal Wolsey, stood talking to Mme de Pompadour.
"No, because he's the host. Shall I find you a partner, Mephistopheles?"
Amberley was watching a girl at the other side of the ballroom. "Will you introduce me to the contadina?" he asked.
Joan glanced in the girl's direction. "Yes, of course, but I don't know who she is."
"Kitty Crosby, isn't it?" said the sheikh.
"I thought Kitty was coming as a gipsy."
"Oh, was she? It might be Miss Halifax. No, I don't think it is, though."
Joan looked up at Amberley. "That's the fun of it. Do you know, I didn't recognise one of my oldest friends? Come on, I'll introduce you."
She led him to where the contadina was standing. "May I introduce Mephistopheles?" she said, smiling.
The contadina's eyes gleamed through the slits of her mask. She bowed and cast a fleeting glance up at the scarlet-dad figure before her.
"Shall we dance?" said Mr. Amberley.
"I should like to," she replied.
He drew her out into the room and took her in his arms. She danced well, but showed no desire to talk. Mr. Amberley guided her through the maze of shifting couple and said presently: "I wonder whether you are Miss Halifax or Miss Crosby?"
The red lips curved. "Ah!" said the contadina.
"Or neither?" pursued Mr. Amberley.
The hand in his moved slightly. "You will see at unmasking, Mephistopheles."
"I wonder?" said Mr. Amberley. He was aware of her gaze searching his face and smiled down at her. "A bit a mob, isn't it?" he said. "Do you think the Fountains can really know everyone here tonight?"
"Oh, but surely!"
"In these days of gate-crashing . ." murmured Mr. Amberley.
"I don't think that is done in the country," she said.
"I expect you know much more about it than I do," he agreed politely.
The music came to an end. Mr. Amberley did not join. in the clapping, but led his partner to the door. "You must let me get you something to drink," he said. He nodded towards a sofa in an alcove of the hall. "Will you wait for me there?"
The contadina appeared to consider. Then she shrugged. "Very well."
He found her seated on the sofa when he returned with two glasses. "You haven't run away," he observed, and handed her one of the glasses.
"Why should I?" she said coolly.
"I thought you might have grown impatient. There's a bit of a barge round the refreshments." He sat down beside her. "You remind me so much of someone I've met," he said thoughtfully. "Now who can it be?"
She sipped her hock-cup. "Funny," she said. "I don't seem to know you at all. You don't live here, do you?"
"Oh no!" he replied. "I'm merely a bird of passage. I'm staying with the Matthews'."
"Yes? For long?"
"No, just till I've cleared up a little matter that's interesting me."
She inclined her head. "I see. It sounds most intriguing."
He looked down at her. "Somehow I don't think you can be the girl I had in mind."
"No? Who is she?"
"Oh, nobody you would be likely to know. Rather a callow young thing."
She stiffened. "Really, I can't pretend to be flattered."
"But didn't I say I felt sure you couldn't be her?" he said. "Let's talk of something else. Are you fond of shooting?"
"I have never done any," she replied in a voice of dangerous calm.
"No? It's an odd thing, but nine women out of ten would rather have nothing to do with firearms." He offered her his open cigarette case. "You occasionally find an exception to the rule. I met a girl the other day who carried a businesslike automatic about with her.. Fully loaded."
She took a cigarette from his case; her hand was quite steady. "In these days it's probably wise to carry a gun after dark," she said.
He paused in the act of striking a match. "Did I say it was after dark?" he asked, surprised.
"I assumed that it must be," she replied rather sharply. "Wasn't it?"
He held the match
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