The gramophone struck up.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I will now name the traitor. Number Twenty-one, stand forward."
Rogers stepped forward. The concentrated fear and loathing of forty-eight pairs of eyes burned upon him. The miserable Jukes set up a fresh wail.
"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"
"Silence! Number Twenty-one, take off your mask."
The traitor pulled the thick covering from his face. The intense hatred of the eyes devoured him.
"Number Thirty-seven, this man was introduced here by you, under the name of Joseph Rogers, formerly second footman in the service of the Duke of Denver, dismissed for pilfering. Did you take steps to verify that statement?"
"I did—I did! As God's my witness, it was all straight. I had him identified by two of the servants. I made enquiries. The tale was straight—I'll swear it was."
The President consulted a paper before him, then he looked at his watch again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your partners...."