"You look quite Napoleonic in that pose." "If this were only Elba and not St. Helena! I should be coming back to you some day." "I shall credit that against the partridges." This time her laughter was relaxed and joyful. And somehow he felt more at ease. He was growing accustomed to the mask. He stretched his legs and fingered his nether lip. "Have you not somewhere an invisible cloak?" "I had one that night, which nature lent me," she answered readily. "I was so invisible to you that I heard the policeman call out your name. I thank you for insisting that I was not a chorus-lady." Here was a revelation which accounted for many things. "I haven't been very fortunate so far in this adventure." "That is rank ingratitude. I am of the opinion that fortune has highly favored you." "But the mask, the mask! If you heard the policeman call my name, you must have heard him speak of one Leddy Lightfinger." "I did indeed. And is it not possible that I am that very person?" Hillard dropped his hand toward his watch. "Why do you hate Italy?" She sat straight, and what little he could see of her mouth had hardened. "There will be no retrospection this evening, if you please," her voice rather metallic. The mystery lifted its head again. One does not hate a country without a strong and vital reason. Was Giovanni partly right, after all? Was this a kind of trap, a play to gain his interest? Was her singing under his window purely accidental? She hated Italy. The State or the Church? More likely the State. And what had the State done to her or she to the State? A conspirator, in need of funds and men? If this was the case, she was not going about her cause scientifically. Italy had no hold upon anything of his save his love of beauty. Perhaps her reason for hating Italy was individual and singular: as she would have hated any other country, had her unhappiness originated there. "Will you not sing?" he asked. This was an inspiration. Music might assist in melting her new reserve. "You recollect, then, that I possess a voice?" "It is all I have to recollect. Tell me, whither is all this to lead?" "To the door, and into the fog again." "On my word, I'm half inclined to believe you to be an anarchist or a Red, or something on that order." "On account of my hair?" She laughed again. "Put yourself at ease. I am neither Leddy Lightfinger nor a socialist. There are no dynamite bombs in this house. I despise any organization which aims to destroy society. Society is bad enough as it is; but think of trying to readjust it!" "I give up the puzzle." "That is better." It is difficult to seek and hold a pair of eyes partly hidden behind a mask. Several times he made the attempt, but his eyes were first to lower.