r veins, she could scarce keep her feet. Her voice trembled
as she lied to the robber denying that she had any such thing.

"We will search you, my lady, if you do not give it up voluntarily."

Henrietta persisted in her falsehood: "I have nothing upon me. I posted
it in order that it might get to its destination more safely."

"My lady, you are only wasting our time. Turn round, take that steel
netting out of your puffed sleeves and hand it over to us."

At these words, all the blood flew to Henrietta's head. It was no longer
fear but the fury of despair that possessed her. It suddenly occurred to
her that here was the man whom nobody had ever recognized; the man who
had made so many people unhappy; who had robbed her husband and would
now stifle her last hope of saving her brother from disgrace. Who could
this terrible man, this accursed wretch, be? And so, as Black Mask drew
near to her, flashing his dagger before her eyes, she, the weakest, the
most timid of women, made a sudden snatch at the mask and tore it off.

She saw his face and recognized him. . . .

For an instant her eyes gazed upon him and then she collapsed on the
ground in a swoon.

* * * * *

It was pretty late next morning when Mr. Gerzson raised his muddled head
from the table. The sun was shining brightly through the blinds.

He looked around him. He was quite alone.

He looked for Henrietta, he called her by name. She was nowhere to be
seen. Their luggage had also disappeared. He went into the courtyard and
looked for the carriage. That also was nowhere to be seen. Only the four
horses were in the stable, and they were neighing for water; nobody had
watered them.

After that Mr. Gerzson's head grew more muddled than ever.

What had become of the lady? What had happened during the night? How was
it that he remembered nothing about it, he who generally used to sleep
so lightly that the humming of a midge was sufficient to awake him?

Gradually he bethought him that the evening before he had drunk some
wine with an unusual flavour. Even now he was conscious of a peculiar
taste in his mouth. Yet no wine in the world had ever been able to do
him harm. He returned to the room to examine the contents of his flask.
But even the flask was now nowhere to be seen. There was not a single
forgotten object, not a single indication to give him a clue in this
obscure confusion. What could have happened here?--he had not t