Cyrus Felton stands like a stone upon the threshold to the reading-room for fully a minute after Ashley has left the hotel. Then he turns and goes slowly upstairs to his room.
When Ashley reaches the Garden he hunts up Barker and rescues that amiable gentleman from the importunities of a brace of masks who are gayly informing him that they are "just beginning to like him." Ashley drags him away and asks: "Have you located the gentry for whom you were looking to-night?"
"No, but I have chanced upon one or two choice incidents in society life which the chief may find useful some day."
"Good. Let me in early when they materialize. Now, old chap, if you will kill time here for half an hour or so, until I finish my story, I'll join you."
Ashley hunts up an out-of-the-way corner and the work is soon finished and dispatched by a district messenger boy. Then the newspaper man returns to the wine-room, but Barker has strayed.
While Jack is lounging about the edges of the ball-room, his cheek is brushed by a Jack rose tossed from a near-by box. He looks around and sees leaning over the box rail a woman attired in the costume of a lady of the Russian court. The eyes behind the mask twinkle invitingly, and as she is alone Ashley fastens the rose in his coat, tosses a kiss to the donor and proceeds to look for the door leading to that particular box.
"May I enter, lady fair?" he asks, as he stands upon the threshold.
"On one condition," the lady in black informs him.
"Name it," he smiles.
"That you do not ask me to drink a bottle of wine with you; that you talk of something interesting; and that you do not make love to me."
"And you call that one condition? But I accept," says Ashley, closing the door behind him. The next instant he suppresses an exclamation and a tendency toward mild protestation. For in closing the door he has caught one finger on a nail which some careless car-
