it was not difficult to watch the slender figure of the stranger as he made his way leisurely up the staircase. in the ordinary course mercer would have hardly recognized him at all. there were hundreds of people there in all kinds of the extravagant fancy dress which one usually associates with theatrical enterprise. but the more mercer looked at the little man the more convinced was he that the stranger was not disguised at all. he was slight and slender, his dress-clothes fitted him to perfection, and he wore the air of a man who was accustomed to that kind of thing. as to his head it was small and lean, his skin glistened like polished parchment, his dark, restless eyes were turned from side to side, though he did not appear in the least degree excited.
"he interests you?" wilfrid asked.
"why, certainly," russell replied. "i should have thought that he would interest you, too, knowing all you do know. now who should you say that fellow is, and where do you suppose he comes from? take your time."
"well, i should say that he is an asiatic of some kind," wilfrid replied. "and a full-blooded one at that. if he did not look so much at home in his dress-clothes and on such easy terms with his surroundings i could imagine him to be the head of some savage tribe or another. i can see him in his warpaint with his braves around him. but, of course, that is all nonsense, russell. whatever nationality the fellow belongs to, he is an educated man, and they don't breed that kind in the malay archipelago."
"now that is just where you make the mistake," russell answered. "there are certain islands in the malay archipelago which have never been explored by white men yet. of course, i am not speaking of orchid-hunters and that kind of people, but i know for a fact that in north-eastern borneo there are one or two tribes who come very near the level of our modern civilization. but we don't want to discuss that at present. still, i was personally acquainted with one chief whose two sons were being educated at english public schools. perhaps i will tell you his history later. meanwhile, i don't mean to lose sight of our friend. let's push boldly inside and chance it. i know two or three officials connected with the theatre, and they will help me if they can. ah, there is franklin, the very man i want to see. come along."
swan dragged his companion eagerly up the stairs and laid his hand on the shoulder of a florid man in front of him. as the other man turned his face, there was no occasion to ask his profession. he had stage manager written all over him.
"don't stop to ask questions," russell said. "this is my friend, wilfrid mercer. we had invitations for the front of the house to-night; in fact, you were good enough to get them for us. as things have turned out, it is more or less essential that we should become your guests for the time being. can't you rig us up in something in your property-room?"
"you were always a queer sort," the stage manager said with a smile. "i suppose it is no use asking you what mischief you are up to now? oh, i can smuggle you in right enough, especially as certain guests have failed us at the last moment. if you will come with me i will rig you both up in some sort of fancy dress. only it seems hard that i should be kept out of the joke. come this way."
"you shall know all about the joke in good time," russell said grimly. "for the present, all i want you to do is to leave us severely alone. i suppose we could mention your name if any awkward questions were asked."
the stage manager replied good-naturedly enough, and some half an hour later russell and his companion were roaming about the flies, mixing unconcernedly with hundreds of well-known people who appeared to be bent upon enjoyment. meanwhile, the little yellow man had vanished.
"oh, we shall see him sooner or later," russell said cheerfully. "did i tell you what the programme is? there is to be a kind of variety entertainment on the stage and then the theatre will be closed and supper partaken of at separate tables on the stage. after that the floor will be cleared for dancing and those who don't care for the 'light fantastic' will amuse themselves in the body of the theatre. i think we had better separate and i will meet you here when the signal for supper is given."
mercer glanced at the clock and saw that the hour was close upon twelve. the time had gone more quickly than he had expected, and if he were to catch beatrice galloway he would have to go at once. a well-known opera quartette was occupying the stage to the exclusion of everything else, so that it was easy to steal down the stairs to the vestibule. a few young couples had secreted themselves behind the palms and flowers. it was some time before mercer could make out the form of beatrice seated alone. she looked up as he accosted her and he was not sorry to see that she failed to recognize him. he was got up like one of the three musketeers and the upper part of his face was masked.
"i'm afraid you have made a mistake," the girl murmured.
"indeed, i have not," wilfrid said. "you did not expect to see me like this, but my friend, swan russell, has managed this quick change. on the whole, i am glad not to be recognized, because i can speak the more freely to you without arousing the suspicions of mr. flower."
beatrice glanced uneasily at her companion.
"but why should you be afraid of him?" she asked. "surely you have done no wrong to him. on the contrary, he has every reason to regard you as one of his best friends."
"it should appear so," wilfrid said thoughtfully, "but, candidly, do you think your uncle is friendly towards me?"
it was some time before beatrice replied. she glanced down with a troubled expression on her face.
"really, i don't know," she confessed. "i don't feel sure of anything lately. and my uncle is so changed. he is so different to everybody, even to me. he is afraid of something. i am certain some great disaster hangs over us. it is all the more trying and nerve-destroying that i have not the remotest notion what it is. i don't know why i am here to-night, for instance. i don't know why i have been dragged away from maldon grange. we have always been very good friends, or i should hesitate before i spoke as freely as this to you. and now i am going to ask you a question which i hope you will answer candidly. do you think this mystery has anything to do with the attempt to rob maldon grange the other night?"
wilfrid endeavoured to devise some plausible reply. nothing could be gained by telling the girl the truth. on the other hand, she might be still more disturbed.
"i am afraid i cannot tell you," he said.
"do you mean that you won't tell me?" beatrice asked.
"i think you can trust me," wilfrid went on. "i think you can allow me to know what is for the best. i must ask you to have patience for the present, to rest secure in the knowledge that whatever happens no harm will come to you. and why worry yourself with these things at such a time as this? you ought to be enjoying yourself like the other guests. there is no suggestion of tragedy in this brilliant scene?"
beatrice leaned towards her companion.
"i am not so sure of it," she whispered. "at first i enjoyed it immensely. i had never seen anything like it before, and the brilliancy of the scene carried me quite out of myself. and yet i cannot help feeling that the trouble is here; in fact i have seen it for myself. do you remember the night i sent for you when my uncle was hurt? i told you all about that skinny hand pushed through the broken piece of glass and how the hand was fishing for the latch with a piece of string. you haven't forgotten that?"
wilfrid shook his head. he was not likely to forget beatrice's story.
"but what connexion is there between that hand and such an assembly as this?" he asked.
"because i have seen the hand here," beatrice went on in the same intense whisper. "half an hour ago one of my friends came up to me with the offer of an ice, and we went into one of the refreshment rooms. there were a lot of men crushing round the bar, most of them drinking champagne and laughing and chattering. i was gazing about in a thoughtless kind of way when three men came in together and asked for champagne. one was a little man with his back turned towards me, and i could not see his face. one of his companions with a chaffing remark leaned over the counter and took a glass of champagne, at the same time telling his diminutive companion that he had been saved the humiliation of standing on a chair to get it. and then as the little man's hand was stretched forward i recognized the yellow claw that i had seen groping for the latch in the conservatory."
