women, the hair of one or two might be considered raven, but there was
not one who completed the full description he had had of Mademoiselle
St. Clair. Certainly she was not among those who stood near the
Marquise, and Barrington went from vantage point to vantage point in
search of her. Neither could he discover Monsieur le Comte or his
friend. Lodged in the château, they had possibly obtained richer
garments, and would be difficult to identify. The fulfillment of his
mission was not to be so easy as he had imagined.

He had been watching from a corner near the entrance to the ballroom,
partially concealed by a little knot of people who were standing before
him. He could have overheard their conversation, but he was not
listening. He was wondering how he could find mademoiselle. There was
surely some other apartment where guests were, for his eyes were keen,
and he had certainly not seen her yet.

"Monsieur does not dance?"

Barrington turned quickly. The little crowd which had stood in front of
him had gone, and near him was a woman. It was difficult to know whether
her words were a statement of fact, question or invitation.

"I have danced, mademoiselle."

"And are now waiting for some one?"

"No. If mademoiselle will honor me I--"

"I also have danced many times, monsieur, and am inclined to rest a
little."