Hillard reached the chair successfully enough, but he never could recollect how. He sat down as a bashful man sits down in a crowded ball-room, with his knees drawn in tightly and his feet at sympathetic angles. He knew that she would have the best of him in this engagement. All the bright things to say would come to him after he had gone home. It was far easier to write letters. That mask! One might as well converse with the Sphinx. His face was hers to study; her emotions would be wholly her own. Presently she laughed with malice. "You are not comfortable in that chair." "That is true; and yet it is soft and roomy. I am uneasy. Perhaps you recall to my subconsciousness a period in my former existence on earth; or, if you will, one of my ancestors." "I fail to understand." "Well, a Hillard two hundred years ago had his head cut off by an ax. His executioner wore a mask." "A mistake. Your ancestor should have been hanged." "And I along with him, you would imply?" "Are you not Irish? I have known Irishmen by the name of Hillard." "They were in disguise. But I have a generous strain of Irish blood in me. Otherwise I shouldn't have had the courage to follow up an adventure like this." "Thanks. The compliment is rather ambiguous." "My compliments can not possibly be more ambiguous than your appearance. Surely, there will be an hour for unmasking." "It has already begun, Mr. Hillard." "So I am the one who is to be unmasked? Well, I have only the mask nature gave to me. I wish she had been more liberal. But I shall see what can be done with it." "Is there any mask quite so terrible, quite so deceptive, as this very mask nature gives us? Can it not lie adroitly, break hearts, overthrow empires? You can judge a character by this mask sometimes, but never the working of the mind behind it." She resumed her seat on the divan. "I wish I could read yours." "And much good it would do you." She smiled, rather ruefully Hillard thought. He took note of her teeth, and felt a sudden tinge of regret. One may disguise the face and hair, but the teeth are always the same. Two lower teeth on the right side appeared to be gone; the others were firm and glistening white. It was a pity, for a woman's teeth are as much her glory as her hair. "I am curious to learn what you brought for dinner." He enumerated the delicacies. "You have evidently studied your Lucullus," she said. Silence. The ruddy light on her hair fascinated him. "What is it?" she demanded. "Your hair," with a simplicity which silenced her. "You have the most beautiful hair I have ever seen." "Thank you. And yet, for all you know, it may be a fine wig." "If it is, I shall never be sure of anything again. Am I in prosaic New York? Have you not, by some carpet-magic, transported me to old Europe? If a dozen conspirators came in in cowls to render me the oath, I should not be at all surprised." "There is no magic; only a mask." "And there is no way of seeing behind that?"