Then Stanhope and Vernet, Victor and Vanquished, turned their steps in the opposite direction.
For some moments Vernet paced on in silence, savagely gnawing at his under lip. Then professional curiosity broke through his chagrin.
“I should like to know how you did it,” he said, his face flushing.
Stanhope shrugged his shoulders and favored his interlocutor with an uncouth grimace.
“Easy ’nuff,” he said; “Hoop la!”
Vernet started and stared. “Silly Charlie!” he ejaculated.
“That’s the ticket; how did I do the role?”
Vernet ground his teeth, and pondered over this startling bit of intelligence. At last:
“I understand why the Raid failed,” he said, “but I don’t comprehend—”
“Let me clear it up,” broke in Stanhope. “You see, I had often explored those alleys, disguised as Silly Charlie; the character was one that admitted me everywhere. Before going to the masquerade, I had prepared for the night’s work by putting my toilet articles in a carriage, and stationing it near the festive mansion. This I did to insure myself against possible delay, my programme being to drive to the agency, start my men, and then go on ahead of them, assuming my disguise as I went, for the purpose of reconnoitring the grounds for the last time, before leading the men into the alleys. You delayed me a little, and I had to deal with your ‘Chinaman’ in such a way as to leave in his mind a very unfavorable opinion of ‘Hail Columbia.’ But I was there ahead of you after all; for particulars—ahem! consult your memory.”