By and by the proprietor came sidling along behind the cases, the slip-slip fashion of his approach informing me that he wore slippers. "Do you keep costumes?" I asked. "Anything you like, sir, from a crusader to a modern gentleman,"--with grim and appropriate irony. "What is it you are in search of--a masquerade costume?'" "Only a grey mask," I answered. "I am going to a masked ball to-night as a Grey Capuchin, and I want a mask that will match my robe." "Your wants are simple." From a shelf he brought down a box, took off the cover, and left me to make my selection. Soon I found what I desired and laid it aside, waiting for Monsieur Friard to return. Again I observed the other customer. There is always a mystery to be solved and a story to be told, when a man makes the purchase of a pistol in a pawnshop. A man who buys a pistol for the sake of protection does so in the light of day, and in the proper place, a gun-shop. He does not haunt the pawnbroker in the dusk of evening. Well, it was none of my business; doubtless he knew what he was doing. I coughed suggestively, and Friard came slipping in my direction again. "This is what I want. How much?" I inquired. [Illustration: "This is what I want. How much?" I inquired.] "Fifty cents; it has never been worn." I drew out my wallet. I had arrived in town too late to go to the bank, and I was carrying an uncomfortably large sum in gold-bills. As I opened the wallet to extract a small bill, I saw the stranger eying me quietly. Well, well, the dullest being brightens at the sight of money and its representatives. I drew out a small bill and handed it to the proprietor. He took it, together with the mask, and sidled over to the cash-register. The bell gave forth a muffled sound, not unlike that of a fire-bell in a snow-storm. As he was in the act of wrapping up my purchase, I observed the silent customer's approach. When he reached my side he stooped and picked up something from the floor. With a bow he presented it to me. "I saw it drop from your pocket," he said; and then when he saw what it was, his jaw fell, and he sent me a hot, penetrating glance. "The ten of hearts!" he exclaimed in amazement. I laughed easily. "The ten of hearts!" he repeated. "Yes; four hearts on one side and four on the other, and two in the middle, which make ten in all,"--raillery in my tones. What the deuce _was_ the matter with everybody to-night? "Marvelous card, isn't it?" "Very strange!" he murmured, pulling at his lips. "And in what way is it strange?" I asked, rather curious to learn the cause of his agitation. "There are several reasons,"--briefly. "Ah!" "I have seen a man's hand pinned to that card; therefore it is gruesome." "Some card-sharper?" He nodded. "Then again, I lost a small fortune because of that card,"--diffidently. "Poker?"