“Ha!” snorted the Toreador throwing away his cigar. “Show me, boy.”
He followed William to the coach-house. The other Brigands came behind athrill for whatever would happen. William flung open the door of the coach-house. The second Toreador entered. The first Toreador, who had by this time completely lost sight of any humorous aspect the affair might previously have had in his eyes, and had worked himself up into a blind fury, sprang upon the second Toreador as he entered and threw him to the ground. The second Toreador pulled the first down with him, and they fought fiercely in the dark upon the floor of the coach-house, with inarticulate bellows of rage and rendings of clothes and hurling of curses....
******
Aghast, and apprehensive of consequences, the Brigands turned and went quickly towards the house so as to be as far as possible from the scene of the crime.
But all was changed at the house. There was no dancing. The band was mute. In the middle of the ballroom was a little heap of clothes, a Page’s costume, an Ace of Clubs costume, a Gondolier’s costume, and a Goat Herd’s costume, and over it stood four distraught mothers. Mrs. Brown was almost hysterical. The guests stood in wondering groups around.
“The clothes have been found near the lake,” sobbed Mrs. Brown.
“There’s no trace of them anywhere,” sobbed Ginger’s mother.
“The grounds have been searched.”
“They’re nowhere in the house.”
“They must have taken off their clothes to swim.”