ng an expression of disappointment to over-cloud his face.

"The wrong bundle," he said mendaciously. "Too bad! And I might have to
search an hour before laying my hands on the right one. I evidently
wasn't intended to bore you with any of my ancient mariner tales this
evening. This is distinctly an omen." He lifted his brows slightly and
significantly to Kitty, and she who was playing hostess, immediately
rose.

Hayden carried the package into the drawing-room with him and laid it on
a small table. He felt puzzled and perplexed. What did Marcia know, and
what was worse, what did she fear? For there could be no doubt that she
was badly frightened. How flat had fallen his happy plan of letting her
know that he, by some joyous and romantic chance, was the discoverer of
the long-lost Veiled Mariposa! But the party was far too small for any
one member of it to engage in meditation, and Hayden as host found his
attention claimed every moment. For a calm review of this odd occurrence
and any attempt to arrive at a satisfactory explanation of Marcia's words
and actions he saw clearly he would have to wait until the departure of
his guests.

It was a real relief, a positive relaxation from strain, therefore, when
Tatsu threw open the door and unctuously announced Mademoiselle Mariposa.
There was the slightest rustle of skirts, the faint waft of an enchanting
fragrance, and Ydo came forward. As usual, her little mask concealed her
face, revealing only her sparkling eyes, and her mantilla of Spanish lace
covered her hair! but she had discarded her customary black gown. She,
too, was a butterfly, this evening, a glowing yellow one with deep lines
of black and touches of orange and scarlet, a gown as vivid and daring as
herself. As she advanced with her exquisite and undulating grace of
carriage, a little thrill ran through the group, for although they had
moved in an atmosphere of color all evening, she seemed in some subtle
and individual way to express deeper and more vital tints, and veiled, as
she was, to cause even the lights to flicker and grow dim.

Behind her followed her private secretary, more demure and colorless than
ever, bearing the various objects Mademoiselle Mariposa would need in the
exercise of her profession.

All of the women, in fact the whole party, greeted her with warm
expressions of pleasure with the exception of Marcia who, Hayden thought,
looked more distressed, even more alarmed than ever.

Ydo r