The man from the taxicab entered the costumer's, displayed a detective's shield and demanded that the proprietor show him the costumes selected by the two young people who had just left. The man obeyed wonderingly. "I want a pair exactly like these," said the detective. "How much?" "Two dollars each, rental; seven apiece if you wish to buy them." "I'll buy them." The detective paid the bill, nodded curtly, and returned to his taxicab. "Now, I wonder," mused the costumer, "what the dickens those innocent-looking young people are up to?" He never found out. On the night of the ball Norton dined with Florence for the first time; and for once in his life he experienced that petty disturbance of collective thought called embarrassment. To talk over war plans with Jones was one thing, but to have Jones serve soup was altogether another. All through dinner Jones replied to questions with no more and no less than "Yes, sir," and "No, sir." Norton was beginning to learn that this strange man could put on a dozen kinds of armor and always retain his individuality. And to-night there seemed something vaguely familiar about the impassive face of the butler, as if he had seen it somewhere in the past, but could not tell when or where. As he and Florence were leaving for the automobile which was to take them to the princess', the truth came home to him with the shock of a douche of ice-cold water. Under his breath he murmured: "You're a wonderful man, Jones; and I take my hat off to you with the deepest admiration. Hang me!" "What are you mumbling about?" asked the happy girl. "Was I mumbling? Perhaps I was going over my catechism. I haven't been out in society in so long that I've forgotten how to act." "I believe that. We've been in here for five minutes and you haven't told me that you love me." "Good heavens!" And his arms went around her so tightly that she begged for quarter. "How strong you are!" The splendor of the rooms, the dazzling array of jewels, the kaleidoscopic colors, the perfume of the banked flowers and the music all combined to put Florence into a pleasurable kind of trance. And it was only when the first waltz began that she became herself and surrendered to the arms of the man she loved. And they were waltzing over a volcano. She knew and he knew it. From what direction would the blow come? Well, they were prepared for all manner of tricks. In an alcove off the ballroom sat Braine and Olga, both dressed exactly like Norton and Florence. Another man and woman entered presently, and Braine spoke to them for a moment, as if giving instructions, which was indeed the case. The band crashed into another dance, and the masqueraders began swirling hither and thither and yon. A gay cavalier suddenly stopped in front of Florence. "Enchantress, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"