"That will I, my lady," said I; and stepped forward and kissed her
hand; then drew it through my arm.
"Who chooses the other black Knave?" asked Moore, sweeping off his hat,
and bowing with it held across his heart. I noted he had changed his
voice.
"I do," said she who had styled us "Satan's Twins;" and she gave him
her hand.
He, who had been with them, shrugged his shoulders and turned to her
who had spoken first, "Mademoiselle," said he, "I am waiting to be
chosen."
She laughed. "Mademoiselle will be deeply honored," she said, "if
monsieur will deign to accept the only Queen that is left."
It chanced that none of these four Masques had gone through the
reception room while we were behind the curtains, so, of course, I had
not the slightest notion of their identity. It was quite possible
Moore would be able to make a good guess; and, I fancied, he had
already placed my Queen--she of the musical laugh. However, so long as
they did not discover me, it mattered not at all who they were. I
could trust Moore to get me away from them if he found it wise. So I
devoted myself to my companion.
She was of good height and rather slender, and wore a blue gown, with
powdered hair.
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