."

"Mr. Herbert?" I gazed around me blankly. Who in the name of wonder was
Mr. Herbert?

"If you will allow me, sir," suggested William, taking my bag, while the
other went back to his post.

"Thank you," said I, "but I know my own room, I hope."

He shook his head. "The mistress made some alterations at the last
moment, and you're on the fourth floor over the street. Mr. 'Erbert's
last words were that if you arrived before him I was to 'ope you didn't
mind being so near the roof."

Well, of one thing at least I could be sure: I was in my own house.
For the rest, I might be Rip van Winkle or the Sleeper Awakened.
Who was this lady called "the mistress "? Who was Mr. Herbert?
How came they here? And--deepest mystery of all--how came they to be
expecting _me?_ Some villainy of Trewlove's must be the clue of this
tangle; and, holding to this clue, I resolved to follow whither fate might
lead.

III.

William lifted my bag and led the way. On the first landing, where the
doors stood open and the music went merrily to the last figure of the
Lancers, we had to pick our way through a fantastic crowd which eyed me
with polite curiosity. Couples seated on the next flight drew aside to
let us pass. But the second landing was empty, and I halted for a moment
at the door of my own workroom, within which lay my precious manuscript.

"This room is unoccupied?"

"Indeed, no, sir. The mistress considers it the cheerfullest in the
'ouse."

"Our tastes agree then."

"She had her bed moved in there the very first night."

"Indeed." I swung round on him hastily. "By-the-by, what is your
mistress's name?"

He drew back a pace and eyed me with some embarrassment. "You'll excuse
me, sir, but that ain't quite a fair question as between you and me."

"No? I should have thought it innocent enough."

"Of course, it's a hopen secret, and you're only askin' it to try me.
But so long as the mistress fancies a hincog--"

"Lead on," said I. "You are an exemplary young man, and I, too, am
playing the game to the best of my lights."

"Yes, sir." He led me up to a room prepared for me--with candles lit, hot
water ready, and bed neatly turned down. On the bed lay the full costume
of a Punchinello: striped stockings, breeches with rosettes, tinselled
coat with protuberant stomach and hump, cocked hat, and all proper
accessories--even to a false nose.

"Am I expected to get into these things?" I asked.

"If I