Some few days after the conversation between Vernon and Dimsdale in Colonel Towton's chambers, the two girls were together on the verandah of the bungalow, busily engaged in sending out invitations for a ball. In honour of her birthday--she was now twenty-three--Ida had prevailed upon her father to allow her to give a masquerade in the central apartment. That was to be cleared for dancing--not that it needed much clearing, so sparsely was it furnished--and all those expected were told to wear masks and dominoes. At midnight all the guests were to unmask, and supper was to take place. Ida limited her guests to the number of one hundred, and, with the assistance of Miss Hest, she was weeding out undesirable people. With a bamboo table between them and a screen to keep off the hot sunshine--it was now the end of June and extremely sultry--the young ladies were too intent on their agreeable work to notice that a stranger was advancing up the yellow-sanded path. And yet, as the newcomer was Arthur Vernon, he could scarcely be called a stranger, seeing that he was a friend of the house and a weekly visitor. On this special occasion he had called to resume with Mr. Dimsdale the conversation about The Spider, and, in his anxiety to complete the business--which included the setting of a trap for the blackmailer--would have passed by the girls in order to interview his old friend. But Frances, who seemed to have eyes at the back of her head--as Vernon had noticed on several occasions--drew Ida's attention to him at once. "Here is Mr. Vernon, dear," she said, pushing back her chair and straightening her tall, imperial form. "Let us ask him to suggest someone." "Good-day, Miss Hest; good-day, Ida," said Vernon advancing easily, and looking very smart in his Bond Street kit. "Someone for what?" Ida shook hands in her friendly, sisterly way and explained. "In a week we are giving a masked ball in honour of my birthday, and just now Frances and I are making out the invitations. Only a hundred people, Arthur, as the house won't hold any more comfortably. Here is the list--ninety-five names, as you see. So we thought----" "That you might suggest a few other people," finished Miss Hest, leaning gracefully on the back of her chair. "We want gentlemen more than ladies." "Isn't a week's notice rather a short one to give for an entertainment of this sort?" asked Vernon, running his eyes over the submitted list. "Why should it be?" demanded Ida, opening her eyes. "There is no fancy dress to get ready, and I don't expect that everyone will be engaged on that particular night." "It's the mid-season, you know, Ida." Miss Hest nodded her approval. "I told Ida that. Everyone may be engaged." "Well, I can't change the date of my birthday, dear, and I didn't think of a masked ball until yesterday. If we send out invitations for one hundred and fifty guests, that number will be sufficient. Everyone can't have other engagements on that especial night."