"And why may you not see my face! There is no shame for my mask to conceal! I _have_ a secret, true; but it is not of _my_ making. It has been forced upon me. I am not an _intriguante_: I am a persecuted woman. I am not seeking it to conceal wrong doing, but to protect myself from those that wrong me." The words that begin so proudly, end in a sob, and, covering her face with her white, jeweled hands, Leslie Warburton turns and rests her head against the screen beside her. Then impulsive, unconventional Dick Stanhope springs up, and, as if he were administering comfort to a sorrowing child, takes the two hands away from the tear-wet face, and holding them fast in his own, looks straight down into the brown eyes as he says: "Dear lady, trust me! Even as I believe you, believe _me_, when I say that your confidence shall not be violated. Your secret shall be safe; shall remain yours. Your enemy shall become mine. If you cannot trust me, I cannot help you." "Oh! I do trust you, Mr. Stanhope; I _must_. Ask of me nothing, for I can tell you no more. To send for you was unwise, perhaps, but I have been so tormented by this spy upon my movements ... and I cannot fight in the dark. It was imprudent to bring you here to-night, but I dared not meet you elsewhere." There is a lull in the music and a hum of approaching voices. She hastily resumes her mask, and Stanhope says: "We had better separate now, madam. Trust your case to me. I cannot remain here much longer, otherwise I might find a clue to-night,--important business calls me. After to-night my time is all yours, and be sure I shall find out your enemy." People are flocking in from the dancing-room. With a gesture of farewell, "Sunlight" flits out through the door just beside the screen, and a moment later, the Goddess of Liberty is sailing through the long drawing-rooms on the arm of a personage in the guise of Uncle Sam. "What success, my friend?" "It's all right," replies the Goddess of Liberty; "I have seen the lady." A moment more and her satin skirts trail across the toes of a tall fellow in the dress of a British officer, who is leaning against a vine-wreathed pillar, intently watching the crowd through his yellow mask. At sight of the Goddess of Liberty, he starts forward and a sharp exclamation crosses his lips. "Shades of Moses," he mutters to himself, "I can't be mistaken; that _is_ Dick Stanhope's Vienna costume! Is that Dick inside it? It is! it must be! What is he doing? On a lay, or on a lark? Dick Stanhope is not given to this sort of frolic; I must find out what it means!" And Van Vernet leaves his post of observation and follows slowly, keeping the unconscious Goddess of Liberty always in sight. [Illustration: "Dear lady, trust me! Your secret shall be safe; your enemy shall become mine!"--page 75.]