“Have you noticed a little, pale-faced lad gliding about like a half-grown ghost?”
“Indeed I have, and there is a peculiar expression on his countenance that attracted my attention; but what about him?”
“He is the black domino’s courier, spy, agent, pilot, general superintendent, or something of that sort.”
“By the by, I see that same little ghostly lad yonder leaning over the banisters, just beyond the pilot house.”
“Yes, that is he; I happen to know that he is serving the lady in the black domino in some of her mysterious schemes. Knowing, as I did, how much it would relieve you to obtain any clew that would unravel the unpleasant mystery by which we are surrounded, I took the liberty to play the spy myself. If I have been guilty of a mean thing (and to be candid, I think I have), you will have to answer for the sin of it, for I was prompted to it by my anxiety to gratify the curiosity of some one who was very dear to me.”
“Indeed I am very grateful; but pray tell me what you have discovered?”
“I heard a conversation between the little, pale-faced boy and the lady in the black domino.”
“Well, what did it amount to?”
“The lad pointed toward Napoleon, and said, ‘There is your man.’
“‘How do you know that is he?’ inquired the black domino impatiently.