"Pardon me," he said, "but I object to thus persecuting a lady, and a guest." "But if I tell you that this _lady_ is a man in silken petticoats?" "What!" "And that he seems on very free and friendly terms with _your wife_." "With my wi--" Alan Warburton stopped short and looked sharply at the eyes gazing out from behind the yellow mask. Did this detective think himself conversing with Archibald? If so--well, what then? He shrank from anything like familiarity with this man before him. Why not leave the mistake as it stood? There could be no harm in it, and he, Alan, would thus be free from future annoyance. "I will not remove my mask," thought Alan. "He is not likely to see Archibald, and no harm can come of it. In fact it will be better so. It would seem more natural for him to be investigating his wife's secrets than for _me_." So the mistake was not corrected--the mistake that was almost providential for Alan Warburton, but that proved a very false move in the game that Van Vernet was about to play. There was but one flaw in the plan of the proposed incognito. Alan's voice was a peculiarly mellow tenor, and Van Vernet never forgot a voice once heard. "Did you say that this disguised person knows--Mrs. Warburton?" "I did." "Who is the fellow, and what disguise does he wear?" "I am unable to give his name. He is costumed as the Goddess of Liberty." "Oh!" Van Vernet had his own reasons for withholding Richard Stanhope's name. "So!" he thought, while he waited for Alan's next words. "I'll spoil your plans for this night, Dick Stanhope! I wonder how our Chief will like to hear that 'Stanhope the reliable,' neglects his duty to go masquerading in petticoats, the better to make love to another man's wife." For Van Vernet, judging Stanhope as a man of the world judges men, had leaped to the hasty, but natural, conclusion, that his masquerade in the garb of the mother of his country, was in the character of a lover. "Vernet," said Alan at last, "you are a clever fellow! Let me see; there are half a dozen young men here who are ripe for novelty--set the whisper afloat that behind that blue and white mask is concealed a beautiful and mysterious intruder, and they will hang like leeches about her, hoping to discover her identity, or see her unmask." "It's a capital plan!" cried Vernet, "and it can't be put into execution too soon." CHAPTER X. "I AM YOUR SHADOW." It is not a pleasing task to Alan Warburton, but, spurred on by Vernet, and acting according to his suggestions, it is undertaken and accomplished. Within twenty minutes, two gay, fun-loving young fellows, one habited in the garb of a Celestial, the other dressed as a Troubador, are hastening from room to room in search of the mysterious Goddess of Liberty. "Who was the Mask that posted us about this mysterious lady?" queries the Celestial, as he lifts a _portierie_ for his comrade to pass. "If I am not mistaken, it was Warburton."