"You are the sort of man for my money."

Saying which, he turned and left the spot.

Making his way to a place in the grounds previously agreed upon, he ran
across the brigand Matteo armed with a change of dress for him.

The spot selected was up one of the narrowest alleys in the grounds, at
the end of which was a species of Hampton Court maze in miniature.

Just as the diabolical one was about to divest himself of half of his
skin, Matteo gave the alarm.

"The devil!" ejaculated the masker, which was, perhaps, the most
natural exclamation he could make, all things considered. "What can
this be? Somebody watched me here."

He waited a minute or so in anxiety.

An unsteady footfall was heard upon the gravel walk, and a man in a
cloak came staggering along.

"They may call this a grand _fete_ if they like," he mumbled. "I
call it a shabby affair. Why, there's not a respectable drink in the
place. The lucky thing is that I have provided my own."

He had a bottle with him, and he sucked at it from time to time as he
staggered on, until all of a sudden he ran on to the alarmed masker,
who was growing impatient to change his garments.