raiment donned for the occasion. With the turning of a key in the locker door, barons became ordinary men, countesses became mere women, and all of them stole regretfully out of the passage at the foot of the first flight of stairs and shivered in the wind that blew through the City of Masks.
"I've got more money than I know what to do with, Miss Emsdale," said Tom Trotter, as they went together out into the bitter wind. "I'll blow you off to a taxi."
"I couldn't think of it," said the erstwhile Lady Jane, drawing her small stole close about her neck.
"But it's on my way home," said he. "I'll drop you at your front door. Please do."
"If I may stand half," she said resolutely.
"We'll see," said he. "Wait here in the doorway till I fetch a taxi from the hotel over there. Oh, I say, Herman, would you mind asking one of those drivers over there to pick us up here?"
"Sure," said Herman, one time Count Wilhelm Frederick Von Blitzen, who had followed them to the sidewalk. "Fierce night, ain'd it? Py chiminy, ain'd it?"
"Where is your friend, Mr. Trotter," inquired Miss Emsdale, as the stalwart figure of one of the most noted head-waiters in New York struggled off against the wind.
"He beat it quite a while ago," said he, with an enlightening grin.
"Oh?" said she, and met his glance in the darkness. A sudden warmth swept over her.
