“Now enter your complaint!” said the Mystery, in a low, cold tone of voice, his eyes fixed on the woman; “but remember that I have this fan in my possession.”
The waiter came up, and asked what was wanted.
“The lady requested that you be summoned,” said Mr. Noname. “She is the one who wants you.”
The waiter turned toward her inquiringly. She hesitated, while Mr. Noname regarded her in grim, unbroken silence. All at once she laughed. Then she ordered absinthe for herself, and told the waiter to bring any drinks the others might wish.
The waiter looked to the others for orders, but received none. He departed.
“Oh, why do you stare at me like that, old man?” cried the masked woman.
“I stare at you because I can see beneath that mask; I can see beneath the flesh that covers your bones; I can see the grinning death-head you carry on your shoulders!”
“How terrible! You would do well at frightening children. Why, you would be as good as a jack-in-the-box! Give me back my fan.”
“No.”
“You will not?”