“He has had no chance to see her, yet,” said Moore.  “I’ll have her ordered to her hotel.”

“No, she must remain,” said I; “I’m committed to the Marquise.  Besides, I’m minded to play their own game for them, a bit.  Do you think Lotzen knows I’m at the Masque?”

Moore thought a moment.  “Lady Vierle told him you were not coming, when she asked as to Mrs. Spencer,” he said.  “And he may have let it go at that; but it wouldn’t be his usual method.  My last order, before we left the Epsau, was that you were indisposed and had retired and, on no account, were you to be disturbed without Bernheim’s express permission.  But, servants are purchasable and spies are plenty, and Lotzen knows how to reach the first and use the second.  On the whole, it is likely he has been advised that you are here, though he may not know your costume.  The long military cloaks completely hid our dress; and you will recall that, at my suggestion, we concealed our hats under them until we were in the carriage.”

“I can’t get used to this espionage,” I said.  “Suppose we take a look around for the Gypsy Lady; doubtless, we shall find her with a White Masque.”

We were on a walk bordered by a hedge of boxwood, shoulder high.  On the other side, was another path with several Masques on it.  Suddenly, one of them, as he passed, reached over the hedge and struck me in the back with a dagger.

The blow sent me plunging forward, but did me no hurt.  I owed my life to Bernheim.  His steel vest had stayed the blade that, otherwise, would have found my heart.

With a cry, Moore sprang to me and caught me in his arms.

“I’m not hurt,” I said, recovering my balance.

“Thank God!” he ejaculated—­then took the hedge at a vault.

I caught him by the arm as he landed on the other side.

“Stay,” I commanded.  “Let the fellow go.”

Moore looked at me a moment.  “Let him go?” he exclaimed incredulously.

I nodded.  “And come along—­let us get away from here.”

Without a word, he vaulted back and we moved off.

The whole thing had occurred so unexpectedly and so swiftly that the few Masques, who had been in the vicinity, evidently had not noticed the murderous nature of the assault; and the peculiar arrangement of the hedges and trees had enabled my assailant to disappear almost instantly.  Indeed, but for Moore’s vaulting the boxwood after him, it is likely no one would have suspected anything unusual.

Several men came up and inquired if they could be of any assistance, but I assured them it was a matter of no consequence—­that I had, evidently, been mistaken for another—­or it was only a bit of pleasantry from some friend who had recognized me.

“But that you are uninjured,” remarked one, “I should almost say it was a case of attempted assassination.”

I laughed.  “An assassination would fit in well with the costumes and the garden—­everything is mediaeval to-night.”