Hearts and Masks

"Did you receive your invitation through the proper channels?" asked

Hamilton.

"I came here to-night,"--coldly, "on the invitation of Mrs.

Hyphen-Bonds, who sailed for Europe Wednesday."

Here was an alibi that was an alibi! I was all at sea. Hamilton

bowed; the chief coughed worriedly behind his hand. The girl had told

me she was an impostor like myself, that her ten of hearts was as

dark-stained as my own. I could not make head or tail to it. Mrs.

Hyphen-Bonds! She was a law in the land, especially in Blankshire, the

larger part of which she owned. What did it all mean? And what was

her idea in posing as an impostor?

The door opened again.

"The patrol has come," said the officer who entered.

"Let it wait," growled the chief. "Haggerty has evidently got us all

balled up. I don't believe his fashionable thief has materialized at

all; just a common crook. Well, he's got him, at any rate, and the

gems."

"You have, of course, the general invitation?" said Hamilton.

"Here it is,"--and she passed the engraved card to him.

"I beg a thousand pardons!" said Hamilton humbly. "Everything seems to

have gone wrong."

"Will you guarantee this man?" asked the chief of Hamilton, nodding

toward me.

"I have said so. Mr. Comstalk is very well known to me. He is a

retired army officer, and to my knowledge a man with an income

sufficient to put him far beyond want."

"What is your name?" asked the chief of the girl, scowling. It was

quite evident he couldn't understand her actions any better than I.

"Alice Hawthorne," with an oblique glance at me.

I had been right!

"What is your occupation? I am obliged to ask these questions, Miss."

"I am a miniature painter,"--briefly, Hamilton came forward.

"Alice Hawthorne? Pardon me, but are you the

artist who recently completed the miniatures of the Emperor of Germany,

the Princess of Hesse, and Mrs. Hyphen-Bonds?"

"I am. I believe there is no further reason for detaining me."

"Emperor of Germany?" echoed the now bewildered chief. "Why didn't you

tell all this to Mr. Haggerty?"

"I had my reasons."

Once again the door opened. A burly man in a dark business-suit

entered. His face ruddy and his little grey eyes sparkled with

suppressed ire. He reminded me of Vautrin, the only difference being

that Vautrin was French while this man was distinctly Irish. His

massive shoulders betrayed tremendous strength. He was vastly angry

about something. He went to the chief's desk and rested his hands upon

it.