den by
the strip of black velvet.

His eyes, shining through the slits in the mask, were, however, dark
and brilliant. In them could be seen alertness and eagerness, for it was
apparent that he had come there hot-foot in search of someone. In any
case he had a difficult task, for in the whirling, laughing, chattering
crowd each person resembled the other save for their feet and their
stature.

It was the feet of the dancers that the tall masked man was watching. He
stood in the crowd near the doorway with his hand upon his sword-hilt,
a striking figure remarked by many. His large eyes were fixed upon the
shoes of the dancers, until, of a sudden, he seemed to discover that
for which he was in search, and made his way quickly after a pair who,
having finished a dance, were walking in the direction of the great
hall.

The stranger never took his eyes off the pair. The man was slightly
taller than the woman, and the latter wore upon her white kid shoes a
pair of old paste buckles. It was for those buckles that he had been
searching.

"Yes," he muttered in English beneath his breath. "That's she--without a
doubt!"

He drew back to near where the pair had halted and were laughing
together. The girl with the glittering buckles upon her shoes was Dorise
Ranscomb. The man with her was the Count d'Autun.

The white cavalier pretended to take no interest in them, but was,
nevertheless, watching intently. At last he saw the girl's partner bow,
and leaving her, he crossed to greet a stout Frenchwoman in a plain
domino. In a moment the cavalier was at the girl's side.

"Please do not betray surprise, Miss Ranscomb," he said in a low,
refined voice. "We may be watched. But I have a message for you."

"For me?" she asked, peering through her mask at the man in the plumed
hat.

"Yes. But I cannot speak to you here. It is too public. Besides, your
mother yonder may notice us."

"Who are you?" asked the girl, naturally curious.

"Do not let us talk here. See, right over yonder in the corner behind
where they are dancing in a ring--under the balcony. Let us meet there
at once. _Au revoir_."

And he left her.

Three minutes later they met again out of sight of Lady Ranscomb, who
was still sitting at one of the little wicker tables talking to three
other women.

"Tell me, who are you?" Dorise inquired.

The white cavalier laughed.

"I'm Mr. X," was his reply.

"Mr. X? Who's that?"

"Myself. But my name matters noth