"The dresses we have mentioned," I continued, "will probably be worn by our maids, leaving the Countess Zarfine at liberty to carry out her work, and me free to frustrate her; for I am certain now that it is she who reveals the cipher. Had I not known the costume she really intends to wear I should have devoted the night to watching the 'Franco-Russe Alliance.' As it is, my maid, the 'Lost Provinces,' will do that for the sake of diplomatic appearances, the Countess will be deceived, and I shall be free. So I require another card for the carnival—get it secretly for me."
"Success is assured," he cried, enthusiastically.
"Not so fast, mon ami. She already suspects me—I could see it in her eyes—and therefore you must act with consummate tact; you must delay the delivery of the key on some pretence until an hour before the ball, and so render it impossible for it to be revealed to any one except at the carnival. Then I know when it will be done—directly I have left."
"After you have left?" he cried, in bewilderment.
"After my maid has left with the Countess Zarfine's message for you."
"Ah," he sighed, and there was a world of admiration in the utterance of that monosyllable, but a moment after, his face became grave again, as he suggested, "Perhaps the key may be given in such a way that you cannot prevent it—another note, for instance, skilfully passed from hand to hand."
"I think not. She would not risk anything so liable to be discovered. Besides, she suspects; and more," I continued, "does not the whole idea of this bal masqué proclaim the lady's love for the theatrical? No, mon ami, the cipher will be given in such a manner that if a man watched her actions every minute of the night he would see nothing, but a woman might see much."
Monsieur smiled again, complaisantly.
"Then, too, if I fail, it is not ruin," I said, "for the documents will not be despatched until you have heard from me. If I succeed, the evidence against her will be strong enough to give you all the proofs you need."
"But—"