"No? I should have thought it innocent enough." "Of course, it's a hopen secret, and you're only askin' it to try me. But so long as the mistress fancies a hincog--" "Lead on," said I. "You are an exemplary young man, and I, too, am playing the game to the best of my lights." "Yes, sir." He led me up to a room prepared for me--with candles lit, hot water ready, and bed neatly turned down. On the bed lay the full costume of a Punchinello: striped stockings, breeches with rosettes, tinselled coat with protuberant stomach and hump, cocked hat, and all proper accessories--even to a false nose. "Am I expected to get into these things?" I asked. "If I can be of any assistance, sir--" "Thank you: no." I handed him the key of my bag, flung off coat and waistcoat, and sat down to unlace my boots. "Your mistress is in the drawing-room, I suppose, with her guests?" "She is, sir." "And Mr. Herbert?" "Mr. 'Erbert was to have been 'ome by ten-thirty. He is--as you know, sir--a little irregilar. But youth,"--William arranged my brushes carefully--"youth must 'ave its fling. Oh, he's a caution!" A chuckle escaped him; he checked it and was instantly demure. Almost, indeed, he eyed me with a look of rebuke. "Anything more, sir?" "Nothing more, thank you." He withdrew. I thrust my feet into the dressing slippers he had set out for me, and, dropping into an armchair, began to take stock of the situation. "The one thing certain," I told myself, "is that Trewlove in my absence has let my house. Therefore Trewlove is certainly an impudent scoundrel, and any grand jury would bring in a true bill against him for a swindler. My tenants are a lady whose servants may not reveal her name, and a young man--her husband perhaps--described as 'a little irregilar.' They are giving a large fancy-dress ball below--which seems to prove that, at any rate, they don't fear publicity. And, further, although entire strangers to me, they are expecting my arrival and have prepared a room. Now, why?"