scorn of pretence and
subterfuge. His simple faith in Sally Manvers, however misplaced.

If he were to beg a dance when Mrs. Gosnold had returned and Sally,
recostumed, had rejoined the maskers, she hardly knew how she could in
decency refuse him now. . . .

The clock on the mantelpiece struck a single stroke.

Sally started and looked up, to meet Marie's questioning glance.

"One o' clock?"

"Yes, Miss Manwaring."

"Then--why, she's been gone over fifteen minutes."

"Yes, miss."

What could Savage have found to say to Sally that her substitute need
delay so long to hear it?

Sally frowned.

At the end of another five minutes the maid volunteered uneasily:
"It's very odd. Mrs. Gosnold didn't expect to be away more than five
or ten minutes, I know. She said as much before you came in."

Sally got up and went to a window which overlooked the driveway and
lawn. Parting the curtains, she glanced out. The lawn was fair with
moonlight, the driveway silver-blue, the woods behind dark and still.
There was a closed car waiting at one side of the porte-cochere. The
others--all those belonging to Gosnold House, as well as those of
guests for the fete--were hidden among the trees bordering the road or
parked in the open spaces around the garage and stables at a
considerable remove from the house.

There was no one to be seen on the lawn or drive, no hurrying figure
cloaked in Quaker grey.

After some minutes of fruitless watching Sally ventured doubtfully:
"What time is it?"

"Ten past one, miss."

"Nearly half an hour--"

"Yes, miss."

"Do you think Mrs. Gosnold would mind if you went to make sure she was
all right?"

"I don't know, Miss Manwaring. She doesn't like interference, if I may
make so bold as to say so."

A little later, however, the woman added tentatively: "I wouldn't care
to take the responsibility, myself, of going to see."

"But if I order you to go--"

"Yes, miss," Marie smiled.

"Then I do order you to go. But don't be long."

"No, miss."

Sally waited in a mood of constantly increasing anxiety. It was absurd
to think that anything untoward could have happened to Mrs. Gosnold on
her own grounds, meeting her own nephew for a clandestine talk. And of
course she might have learned something from Savage which had induced
her, for her own ends, to maintain her masquerade for a longer time.
She was quite possibly somewhere on the terrace or in the formal
garden.

Marie was back with