“In serving you to-night, Mr. Warburton, I have also served myself. As to who I am, it cannot matter to you.”
“That must be as you will,”—Alan is beginning to recover his conventional courtesy—“but at least tell me how I may discharge my obligations to you. That does concern me.”
Alan’s companion ponders a moment, and then says:
“Perhaps we had better be frank, Mr. Warburton. You are a gentleman, and, I trust, so am I. If you owe me anything, you can discharge your debt by answering a single question.”
“Ask it.”
“Van Vernet was a guest at your masquerade—why was he there?”
The question startles Alan Warburton, but he answers after a moment’s reflection:
“He came at my invitation, and on a matter of business.”
“And yet you say that you never saw his face before?”
“True; our business was arranged through third parties, and by correspondence. He came into my presence, for the first time, masked. Until I saw his face in that hovel yonder, I had never seen it.”