"If you'll be so kind, miss--without letting on--" "Of course." "Mrs. Gosnold would be very indignant if any mistake was made." Sally caught her cloak tightly about her, and because of its unconventionality as a costume, resumed her mask against the chance of meeting anybody in her passage through the corridor to the far wing of the building. She fairly ran in her impatience, and through this haste was brought to the head of the main staircase at the precise moment when an unmasked Harlequin was about to set foot upon the upper landing. Mr. Savage was smiling quietly to himself and slapping his calves lightly with his lath-sword; nothing in his manner excused the suspicion that he was not perfectly satisfied with himself and all his circumstances. Somewhat reassured by the vision of this amiable countenance, Sally paused, and won a glance of quizzical inquiry, with especial application to the mask which she still wore in defiance of the rule. But when she spoke in her natural voice that look was erased from the features of Mr. Savage as chalk-marks may be erased from a blackboard. "Oh, Mr. Savage, if you please--" "Wha-at!" the man ejaculated blankly, stopping short and dropping his make-believe weapon. "I'm looking for Mrs. Gosnold. Have you seen her anywhere about?" "Mrs. Gos--! Aunt Abby!" He choked and gasped. "But you--who are you?" "I thought you must know my voice." Sally removed her mask, and incontinently Savage fell back against the banister-rail and grasped it for support. "Miss Manvers! But--what--how the devil did you get back here?" "I haven't been out." She pulled up on the verge of frank explanation; it was quite possible that Mrs. Gosnold might furiously resent betrayal of her stratagem. And yet Savage's look of pure fright only augmented Sally's solicitude for her employer. "You haven't been out! But ten minutes ago--out there--behind the trees--" She shook her head and tried to smile a superior sort of a smile: "It wasn't I who met you." The man made a gesture of hopeless confusion, and she could not but remark his surprising loss of colour. Suddenly he stepped to her side and seized her roughly by the arm. "Then who was it'?" he demanded furiously. "If it wasn't you--who then? Damn it, you'd better tell me--!" "Let go my arm!" she demanded with a flash of temper that was instantly respected. "If you must know," she went on, reckless at consequences, "it was your aunt who met and talked to you out there. Don't you understand? She borrowed my costume and went to meet you in my place." "Oh, my God!" Savage was now chalky pale. He seemed to strive, to say more, but failed for the constriction of his throat. For another instant he stared incredulously, then, without a word of explanation or apology, he turned and flung himself headlong down the steps!