Stanhope groaned dismally.

"Besides, it's best for you; you are better than Vernet at a feminine make up."

"A feminine make up!"

"Yes. Here is the business: Mr. Follingsbee desires your services for a lady client; he took care to impress upon me that she _was_ a lady in every sense of the word. This lady had desired the services of a detective, and he had recommended you."

"Why I?"

"Never mind why; you are sufficiently vain at present, You have nothing on hand after the Raid, so I promised you to Follingsbee; he is an old friend of mine. To-morrow evening, at ten o'clock, you are to drive to Mr. Follingsbee's residence in masquerade costume."

"Good Lord!"

"In a feminine disguise of some sort. Mr. Follingsbee, also in costume, will join you, and together you will attend an up-town masquerade, you personating Mrs. Follingsbee, who will remain at home."

"Phew! I'm getting interested."

"At the masquerade you will meet your client, who will be introduced by Follingsbee. Now about your disguise: he wants to know your costume beforehand, in order to avoid any mistakes."

"Let me think," said Stanhope, musingly. "What's Mrs. Follingsbee's style?"

"A little above the medium. Follingsbee thinks, that, with considerable drapery, you can make up to look sufficiently like her."

"Considerable drapery; then I have it. Last season, when Van and I were abroad, we attended a masquerade in Vienna, and I wore the costume of the G.o.ddess of Liberty, in order to furnish a partner for Van. In hiring the costume, I, of course, deposited the price of it, and the next day we left the city so hurriedly that I had no opportunity to return it, so I brought it home with me. It's a bang-up dress, and no one has seen it on this side of the water, except Van. How will it do?"

"Capitally; then I will tell Follingsbee to look for the G.o.ddess of Liberty."

"All right, sir. You are sure I won't be detained later than eleven?"

"You have only to meet the lady, receive her instructions, and come away."

"I hope I shall live through the ordeal," rising once more and shaking himself like a water-spaniel, "but I'd rather face all the hosts of Rag Alley."

And Richard Stanhope left the Agency to "overhaul" the innocent masquerade costume that held, in its white and crimson folds, the fate of its owner.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Yes; I've a dainty bit of mystery for you. No blind alleys and thieves' dens in _this_"--page 33.]

Leaving him thus employed, let us follow the footsteps of Van Vernet, and enter with him the stately portals of the home of the Warburtons.

Crossing a hall that is a marvel of antique richness, with its walls of russet, old gold, and Venetian red tints; its big claw-footed tables; its ma.s.sive, open-faced clock, with huge weights a-swing below; its statuettes and its ba.s.s-reliefs, we pa.s.s under a rich _portierie_, and hear the liveried footman say, evidently having been instructed:

"This is Mr. Warburton's study, sir; I will take up your name."

Van Vernet gazes about him, marking the gorgeous richness of the room. A study! There are ma.s.sive book-cases filled with choicest lore; cabinets containing all that is curious, antique, rare, beautiful, and costly; there are plaques and bronzes; there is a mantle laden with costly bric-a-brac; a grand old-fashioned fire-place and fender; there are divans and easy chairs; rich draperies on wall and at windows, and all in the rarest tints of olive, crimson, and bronze.

Van Vernet looks about him and says to himself:

"This is a room after my own heart. Mr. Warburton, of Warburton Place, must be a sybarite, and should be a happy man. Ah, he is coming."

But it is not Mr. Warburton who enters. It is a colored valet, sleek, smiling, obsequious, who bears in his hand a gilded salver, with a letter upon it, and upon his arm a parcel wrapped in black silk.

"You are Mr. Vernet?" queries this personage, as if in doubt.

"Yes."

"Then this letter is for you."

And the valet bows low, and extends the salver, adding softly:

"I am Mr. Warburton's body servant."

Looking somewhat surprised, as well as annoyed, Van Vernet takes up the letter, breaks the seal and reads:

SIR:

My business with you is of so delicate a nature that it is best, for all concerned, to keep our ident.i.ty a secret, for a time at least. Your investigation involves the fair fame of a lady and the honor of a stainless name.

Come to this house to-morrow night, in the costume which I shall send for your use. The enclosed card will admit you. My valet will show you the domino by which you will recognize me. This will enable me to instruct you fully, and to point out to you the persons in whom you are to take an interest. This letter you will please destroy in the presence of my valet. A. W.

After reading this strange note, Van Vernet stands so long, silently pondering, that the servant makes a restless movement. Then the detective says, with a touch of imperiousness.

"Give me a match."

It is proffered him in silence, and in silence he turns to the grate, applies the match to the letter, and lets it fall from his fingers to the fire-place, where it lies a charred fragment that crumbles to ashes at a touch.

The dark servant watches the proceeding in grave silence until Vernet turns to him, saying:

"Now, the domino."

Then he rapidly takes from the sable wrapper a domino of black and scarlet, and exhibits it to the detective, who examines it critically for a moment and then says brusquely:

"That will do; tell your master that I will follow his instructions--_to the letter_."

As the stately door swings shut after his exit, Van Vernet turns and glances up at the name upon the door-plate, and, as he sets his foot upon the pavement, he mutters:

"A. Warburton is my employer; A. Warburton is the name upon the door: I see! My services are wanted by the master of this mansion: he asks to deal with a _gentleman_, and--leaves him to negotiate with a colored servant! There's a lady in the case, and 'an honorable name at stake;'

Ah! Mr. A. Warburton, the day may come when you will wear no domino in my presence; when you will send no servant to negotiate with Van Vernet!"

CHAPTER III.

THE EFFECT OF AN ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT.