“Now,” said I, “let us have a look around.”

For a time I was more occupied with the beauty of the Garden than with my fellow-masques, and I left it to Moore to keep a careful eye for the other two red roses.  I could not but notice, however, that we were attracting much attention; by reason, I assumed, of our striking similarity; and a number of times Moore replied wittily to some pleasant banter flung at us.  I should say, perhaps, that the grounds were so thoroughly lighted with electricity that they were as bright as day; the lamps being so carefully distributed that there were, practically, no shadows.

Presently, on the bank of a miniature lake near the farthest wall, we came upon three women and a man.

“The Dromios,” said one of the women.

“Satan’s Twins,” laughed another.

“A pair of black Knaves,” echoed the third.

The man laughed, but said nothing.

I put my hand through Moore’s arm and swung him around.

“Why not add us to your own Knave and then give us a Queen apiece?” I asked.

She, who had spoken last, clapped her hands.

“Delicious!” she exclaimed.  “Will monsieur be my Knave?”

The voice was very soft and musical, and I saw Moore glance quickly at her.

“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.  Her face and ears were completely hidden by her mask, but, judging from the bit of neck that was visible, and other indications, she was not over twenty-five.  I let her pick the way, and we led the others slowly around through the part of the Garden most removed from the house and where the Masques were fewest.  I took it, that she had no desire to be prominent, and I was very well content.