A great mottled snake with enormous eyes which, as the rays of the electroliers caught them, assumed chameleon tints, becoming now a jet black, now a sea green blending into different shades, now golden copper, now blood red....

That was the impression which first struck the beholder as Jessica came towards him.

In reality the “gown” was a mottled skin which fitted like a glove, and from a distance conveyed the impression that it was covered with real scales. But a closer inspection showed that the skin ended half-way up the chest and back, the “scales” design being continued on the bare flesh and painted thereon so marvelously that where skin ended and flesh began could be discerned only with difficulty. The great chameleon eyes which at first riveted the attention of all beholders were on the mask itself, which hid her face entirely, and exactly resembled the head of a giant puff adder. Indeed, Jessica’s costume, if costume it could be called, was by far the most bizarre in the whole of that vast assemblage, where weird and decadent gowns were plentiful enough.

“Who can the woman with that horrible snake costume and the extraordinary eyes be?” Yootha said as she leaned forward in Preston’s box and scanned the astonishing vision through her opera glasses. “Have you ever seen anything more abominable, Charlie?”

“A good many of the dresses here are abominable, in my opinion,” Preston answered, “and plenty of the men’s costumes might with advantage have been scrapped. Look at that creature over there with nothing on, apparently, but a woman’s silk swimming suit. I wonder what he did during the war, or if he did anything?”

“You do harp on that, Charlie,” Yootha said almost impatiently. “After all, the war is over, so what does it matter what people wear at a costume ball, so long as their costumes are not obviously indecent or decadent, like that woman’s snake skin. Look, she is coming towards us.”

Escorted by male companions, the mottled snake approached. They were close to Preston’s box now, and as they passed they walked more slowly and stared up through their masks apparently straight at his party. A little shudder ran through Yootha. Why, she did not know, and as it did so the horrible chameleon eyes turned from copper to deep crimson.

“I must, at any cost, find out who that is,” Hopford murmured. “I already have my suspicion; the attitude that tall man with her is standing in now is quite familiar.”

“Oh, do find out,” Yootha exclaimed. “I am dying to know. Why, they have that box close to ours,” she added as Jessica and her companions joined the remainder of their party. “The box attendant will surely be able to tell you, Mr. Hopford.”

“The little man at the back is unmistakable, anyhow,” Hopford said as he kept his eyes riveted on the party. “Twenty masks couldn’t disguise him! It’s Levi Schomberg, the Jew moneylender, who is said to lend thousands to all the ‘best’ people in Society, cabinet ministers not excepted. There shouldn’t be much difficulty in finding out now,” and rising, he excused himself and left the box.