With a gasp of surprise, and a heart throbbing with agitation, Leslie Warburton hurriedly replaces her mask and turns to Millie.

“Millie, on second thought, you may take Daisy to her papa’s room, and tell him I will be there soon. Daisy, darling, go with Millie.”

“But, Mamma,—”

“There, there, dear, go to papa now; mamma will come.”

With many a reluctant, backward glance, Daisy suffers herself to be led away, and then the Goddess of Liberty advances and bows before the lady of the mansion.

“I am not mistaken,” whispers that lady, glancing about her as if fearing an eavesdropper; “you are—”

“First,” interrupts a mellow voice from behind the starry mask, “are you Mrs. Warburton?”

“Yes.”

“Then I am Richard Stanhope.”

CHAPTER VIII.

VERNET “CALLS A TURN.”

Leslie Warburton had replaced her mask, but the face she concealed was engraven upon the memory of her vis-a-vis.

A pure pale face, with a firm chin; a rare red mouth, proud yet sensitive; a pair of brown tender eyes, with a touch of sadness in their depths; and a broad low brow, over which[72] clustered thick waves of sunny auburn. She is slender and graceful, carrying her head proudly, and with inherent self-poise in gait and manner.

[72]

She glances about her once more, and then says, drawing still nearer the disguised detective:

“I have been looking for you, Mr. Stanhope, and we have met at a fortunate moment. Nearly all the guests have arrived, and everybody is dancing; we may hope for a few undisturbed moments now. You—you have no reason for thinking yourself watched, or your identity suspected, I hope?”

“None whatever, madam. Have you any fears of that sort?”

“No; none that are well grounded; I dislike secrecy, and the necessity for it; I suppose I am nervous. Mr. Stanhope,” with sudden appeal in her voice, “how much 

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