She shook her head. "I shouldn't like to be rude," she said sweetly. "Are you a reporter?"
"No, fair lady. I'm a barrister."
He guessed that she was frowning.
"Oh!" she said. "A barrister."
"In the criminal court," nodded Amberley.
She got up abruptly. "That must be most interesting. I must go back to the ballroom; I'm engaged for this dance." She paused and he saw her lips curl scornfully. "May I compliment you on your costume? It suits you to perfection."
Mr. Amberley's shoulders shook slightly. He watched her walk away across the hall and wandered off in search of his cousin.
He had seen her go upstairs with an infatuated youth not long before. Mr. Amberley had a poor opinion of the youth, and saw nothing against interrupting the tete-atete and claiming Felicity for the dance which was undoubtedly his. He picked his way between the couples scattered on the staircase and reached the upper hall. It was as spacious as the one below, and had been provided with chairs and screens placed discreetly to form small sitting-out places. At one end was the broad staircase lit by a great window with many lights; at the other a graceful archway gave onto a wider passage that ran at right angles to it. Having reason to believe that his cousin was to be found in the picture gallery, which someone had said lay at the back of the house, Amberley went to the archway and glanced up and down the passage.
One end to the right of the arch was lit up; the other lay in shadow, as though to indicate that that portion of the house was not being used tonight. Amberley guessed that it led to the servants' quarters and the back stairs, and turned right.
The floor was carpeted in pile that deadened the sound of footsteps. Various doors, one labelled Ladies' Cloakroom, opened onto the passage at wide intervals; between them stood some obviously show pieces of furniture, very different from the massive mahogany that ruined the sitting room downstairs. Apparently the late Mr. Fountain had preferred the solid productions of his own period to these more graceful furnishings of an earlier age. Nor, it seemed, had his heir cared to banish the Victorian chairs and tables and cabinets in favour of these banished works of art.