"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.