“One moment, please,” Nick interposed. Mr. Carrington had returned, bringing a pasteboard box containing the invitation cards received by the butler at the front door, and presumably bearing the name of every guest who had entered the house. Nick at once began a rapid inspection of them, his companions watching him with mute interest, and he was not long in finding what he sought. He discovered first the two cards presented by the missing man and his wife: “Mr. Archie Waldmere, Spanish Cavalier. Mrs. Archie Waldmere, Night.” The names of the costumes had been written on the cards by Waldmere himself, and his wife readily identified them. A few moments later Nick produced two others, and he then placed the box on the table. “Here are two of more importance,” he remarked, showing them to Carrington and Mollie. They bore the following names: “Mr. Charles Ringold, Mexican Toreador. Mrs. Clara Ringold, Cabaret Singer.” “The names of the costumes evidently were written by the same person, for the hands are identical,” Nick observed, while his companions examined them. “But this is very strange,” said Mr. Carrington, with a look of perplexity. “I have not seen Ringold nor his wife since the unmasking. I supposed they were not here.” “I am very sure they have not been here, Mr. Carrington,” said Mollie confidently. “But these admission cards--how came they here, in that case?” Carrington demanded. “Perkins certainly received them at the door.” “The arriving guests were not required to unmask for Perkins, were they?” Nick inquired. “No, certainly not. He had a list of the invited guests, and checked off each arrival.” “The explanation is a simple one,” said Nick. “Two strangers got by Perkins by using these two cards.” “But Ringold would not have given his cards to others. He is above such discourtesy as that,” Carrington warmly protested. “Undoubtedly,” Nick agreed. “It is safe to assume, then, that the cards were obtained from him by covert means, also that a subterfuge of some kind was employed to prevent him and his wife from coming here to-night, or even communicating with you.” “But that smacks of knavery, Mr. Carter, if not crime itself,” said Mr. Carrington apprehensively. “I now am sure of knavery of some kind,” Nick replied. “Whether it is so serious as to come under the head of crime remains to be learned.” “Dear me, this is shocking.” “I now will tell you what I saw about half past ten this evening,” Nick added. “I want you to say nothing about it, pending my further investigations.” Both of his companions pledged themselves to secrecy, and Nick then briefly told them of his earlier observations, much to the amazement of Mr. Carrington and the increasing anxiety of Mollie Waldmere. “Don’t let my disclosures add to your alarm,” said Nick, observing her paleness. “The circumstances admit of only one interpretation.” “What is your opinion?” Mollie questioned.