"But why this concealment?" asked Ernest, as the carriage rolled on.
"O, well, never mind," added Lawson (as he desired to be called), and then continued: "We'll soon be near her mansion, or palace is the more appropriate word. We will find some of the first gentlemen and finest ladies of New York under her roof. I tell you, she'll set you half wild, this 'Midnight Queen!'"
"Midnight Queen!" echoed Ernest.
"That's what we call her. A 'Midnight Queen' indeed, as mysterious and voluptuous as the midnight moon shining in an Italian sky."
They arrived in front of a lofty mansion, situated in one of the most aristocratic parts of New York. Its exterior was dark and silent as the winter midnight itself.
"A light hid under a bushel—outside dark enough, but inside bright as a new dollar," whispered Lawson, ascending the marble steps and ringing the bell.
The door was opened for the space of six inches or more,—
"Who's there?" said a voice from within.
Lawson bent his face near to the aperture and whispered a few words inaudible to Ernest. The door was opened wide, and carefully closed and bolted behind them, as soon as they crossed the threshold. They stood in a vast hall lighted by a hanging lamp.
"Leave hats and cloaks here—and come." Lawson took Ernest by the hand and pushed open a door.