"You won't scream?" "No; I'm not a fool. Oh, what is it?" she blazed out, with a stamp, clenching her hands, and clenching her teeth also. Prelice raised his hand. "I must tell you as I best can," he said in a peremptory tone, which quietened her. "After all, I may be mistaken. Is that dress you wore at your ball in your room?" For answer Constance pressed the bell-button, and when the footman appeared, gave an order. "Tell my maid to bring me the frock and domino I wore at the ball--at the masked ball," she said; then faced Prelice when the man went out. "Are you about to accuse me?" "No. Don't ask questions, Constance. I am sorry to keep you in suspense, but I can't help it. The whole thing is so extraordinary." "What thing? What thing?" But Prelice, perhaps mistakenly, would not tell her. The maid entered with the domino and dress, which Prelice at once recognised as the masked ball costume. He simply cast one glance at it, and then, "You can tell her to take it away again," he remarked. Mrs. Rover did so wonderingly, and waited to hear what he had to say next. "Take me to your husband's dressing-room in the other flat." "What for?" she asked. "And how do you know that Dolly's dressing-room is in the other flat?" "Never mind; take me there," said Prelice impatiently. He wished to get the things over as speedily as possible, as he saw how strung up she was; and yet until he was certain how could he accuse Rover? In his heart of hearts, Lord Prelice wished that he might be spared the disagreeable task of accusing Rover at all. But if he did not do so, it was not improbable that Jadby--to further his own ends--might intervene. And it was much better that Jadby, at all costs, should be kept out of the business, since he was not likely to spare either Constance or her husband. "Come, come," cried Prelice impatiently, and seeing that she did not move, "take me to your husband's dressing-room." And Constance led him thither like a woman in a dream. They left one flat, and crossed the landing to the other. When in the dressing-room, which was luxuriously furnished, Mrs. Rover remained silent and observant at the door, while her friend examined the sanctum of her husband. So mysterious were his words and movements that she began to wish that she had not admitted him, since she did not desire to harm Dolly, objectionable as she found him. But if she could not trust Dorry in all ways, who could she trust? Meanwhile Prelice peered into a wardrobe, and shook out the many suits it contained; he searched a large wooden press, wherein shirts and underlinen and handkerchiefs and collars were neatly laid out. But in each case he failed to find that for which he hunted, and drew a long breath of relief. Perhaps, after all, Madame Marie was wrong, in spite of the magical powers to which she laid claim. When at his wits' end, Prelice turned to Constance. "Isn't there a cupboard?" he asked.