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his partner to a vacant sofa, provided two glasses of champagne and spent a very pleasant half-hour in dalliance with his mysterious partner.
     Nothing could have exceeded the lady’s amiability: She gently flattered him, laughing at his attempts to name her and ensuring that he was kept supplied with drink. The gentleman pushed his round, flushed face close to hers.
     ‘Well, this I will say, madam! You’re dam’ - dashed good company, whoever you may be!’ He stumbled over his words, but the hand gripping her knee was very sure.
     She did not move away, and through the slits of her mask the green eyes were inviting.
     ‘It will soon be time for the unmasking,’ she said softly. ‘A pity that it is so noisy here. Shall we find a quieter spot in which to declare ourselves?’
     There was no mistaking the eagerness in the gentleman’s voice as he agreed. The lady led the way out  of the crowded ballroom and along a corridor to the wide staircase. By the time they reached the next floor the noise from the ballroom was but a distant murmur.
     ‘You appear to know the house well, ma’am,’ remarked Mr Poyntz as he followed her along another corridor.
     ‘I have often stayed here with my husband.’
     ‘I trust that gentleman will not disturb us tonight.’ He gave an uneasy laugh.
     ‘He need not concern you, sir. He is dead.’
     She stopped at a door. Poyntz followed her into a large guest-bedchamber, handsomely appointed with gold hangings at the windows and around the large bed. A cheerful fire blazed merrily in the hearth and the lady stepped forward to light a taper from the flames, then she proceeded to light candles until the whole room was illuminated. Poyntz looked about him curiously.
     ‘Your room, perhaps, madam?’
     ‘I do not stay here tonight,’ she said, untying her cloak. ‘Doubtless it has been given over to some guest, but it will do for our purposes.’
     He laughed, moving towards her.
     ‘By Gad, lady, you are a cool one!’ He reached out to pull her into his arms, his lips eagerly covering her mouth with hot kisses while one hand tried to remove the concealing head dress.
     ‘Not yet, m’sieur !’ she struggled to hold him off, ‘someone may discover us. Let me lock the door.’
     She went to the door and turned the key, afterwards slipping it into her pocket. Turning back she saw that the gentleman had removed his domino and mask.
     ‘Will you now let me see your face, fair charmer?’ he asked her.
     She put up her hands to take off the head-dress, revealing her face and an abundance of thick auburn curls, gleaming in the candlelight. It was a few moments before Poyntz recognized her and his look of surprise when he did so was almost comical.
     ‘Madame de Sange! This is indeed a pleasure I did not expect. At our last meeting you gave me no reason to think-’
     ‘That night, Mr Poyntz, I was still in mourning.’
     The gentleman laughed, and began hurriedly to unbutton his coat.
     ‘Then, tonight, Madame, it is time to celebrate!’
     She stepped close to him, assisting his fumbling efforts to remove his tight-fitting coat; then, as he struggled with the buttons of his florid waistcoat, she unbuckled the ornate dress-sword with her long, steady fingers. He glanced at her, his round face glowing with eager anticipation.
     ‘In grey you were enchanting,’ he told her rapturously, ‘but now, with that glorious hair and such exquisite eyes, I vow I have never before seen such a combination!’
     ‘Oh I think you have, Mr Poyntz.’
     She stepped back and he found himself staring at the blade of his own dress sword, its point pressed lightly against the fleshy folds of skin beneath his chin. He tried to retreat, but found the way blocked by a heavy wooden writing table behind him.
     ‘I – this is dangerous funning, ma’am!’ He tried to laugh.
     ‘But I am deadly serious, Mr Poyntz. Please do not attempt to move or I shall be forced to