"The black domino—the gentleman who came with you."
And the black domino at that moment bent down, and, in a low, smothered voice, asked me if I would dance. I declined very quickly, and turned away my head.
"Miss Churchill, will you dance this set with me?" asked a gentleman, in French, approaching me.
Disguised as the voice was, there was something familiar in it. I gave him my hand, and we took our places at the head of the room. It very soon became evident that he had mistaken me for Miss Churchill, and I determined to keep up the character. It was not very difficult; we were exactly the same size, and I had always been a good mimic, so that, in five minutes, I was coquetting, twisting my fan, and taking off Josephine to the life. It was not so easy to find out who I was quizzing. He was evidently a master of the art of deception, disguised his voice, his step, his manner, and was never off his guard an instant. He did not answer to anybody's description exactly, though I was constantly convinced, by his familiarity with us all, that he was "one of us." I tried to bait him with allusions to all our acquaintance, but he was too wary to rise to any of them.
"How did you find me out so easily?" I said, with a laugh so like Josephine's that I was absolutely startled myself. "I thought I was disguised beyond all detection."
"Not from me."
"Ah, you are so clever!" I said, putting my head on one side, with an affectation characteristic of Josephine. "Now help me to discover some of the others. Who is our vis-à-vis in the Spanish dress?"
"You should not have to ask."
"Mais qui?"
"Mr. Arbuthnot, sans doute."