"Are you indeed?" He strolled forward and saw her stiffen. "I'm quite uninstructed in these matters. But I'm most curious to know what you find to interest you inside the tallboy."
She said, trying to speak naturally: "Of course - I should not have opened the drawer. I only wanted to see whether it ran easily I haven't stolen anything, if that's what you think. There - isn't anything to steal."
"You don't have much luck, do you?" he said.
A footstep sounded in the hall; Fountain's boisterous voice said: "Half a moment, you people; I'm going to rout out the picture gallery. Aha, Miss Elliott, so I did spot you! It was the dimple that gave you away. Couldn't disguise that, you know!"
The contadina stood like a statue, but through the mask her eyes were fixed on Amberley's face in a rather desperate entreaty.
Fountain came through the archway into the passage humming a dance tune. He had almost turned right, in the direction of the gallery, when he caught sight of the couple at the other end of the passage. He stopped. "Hullo!" he said, surprised. "What are you two up to?"
Amberley looked down at the girl for a moment, then he turned. "Hullo!" he answered. "We're admiring the tallboy. Do you know the date of it?"
"Lord, what a chap you are for antiques!" said Fountain, going towards them. "No, I haven't the foggiest. But it's a show piece all right. Rotten things, tallboys, I think. If you put things in the top drawers you have to have a pair of steps to get 'em out again. But you can't put me off with furniture, my boy! No, no, it's midnight, and masks off! Now who's this pretty lady?"
He was standing before the contadina, burly and ovial, a hand advanced to take off her mask. Mr. Amberley caught his wrist and held it. "Oh no!" he said. "My privilege. You're very much de trop."
Fountain burst out laughing. "De trop, am I? All right, all right, I won't spoil sport! Tallboys indeed! You tell that to the marines."