“Every masculine eye will be cocked in your direction,” Ethel promised her tranquilly. “And there’ll be a certain gleam in the depths of each that will bid you beware. Don’t let any of them entice you into a dark corner unless you’re willing to be raped.”

“Ethel!”

“I mean it,” Ethel assured her. “The Comtesse Du Barry would meet some stiff competition if she attended the ball tonight. Believe me, a gown like this is the answer to the riddle of why men leave home. Too bad you have to wear a full mask... a domino would be much more intriguing... but, after all, very few of the men will pay the slightest heed to your face.”

“It makes me feel... funny,” Barbara confessed. “I’m almost ashamed to look at myself in the mirror. Why, if it should slip down just a tiny bit here,” she touched her breast lightly, “I’d be all exposed.”

“So much the better,” Ethel replied with a laugh. “That’s an idea. If the boy friend doesn’t seem to fall in line promptly I’ll slip around and give the front a tug. Then he won’t even have to use any of his imagination.”

“Don’t you dare,” Barbara protested in a shocked tone.

“Why not?” Ethel shrugged elaborately. “You’re hunting big game to-night, aren’t you?” she demanded. “You’re going there deliberately to try and drag him away from Sonia’s spell. Use every weapon nature’s given you. No half measures to-night. There’ll be plenty more just as brazenly exposed as you. The only difference is that you’ve got what it takes to get away with a gown like that.”

“If you really think it’s all right...” Barbara began weakly.

“Of course it’s all right. The matter’s settled. You let me do up your hair. And put about three times as much rouge on your lips.”

“All right.” Barbara found that she turned away from the mirror regretfully. She felt wicked and dashing in the gown. Brazen and shameless. Her spirits whirled upward to dizzy heights.

She was another person. Certainly Bob would not recognize her. The outward change was complemented by an inward transition. The Comtesse Du Barry! To-night she would rival the wickedest courtesan of France. To-night a new Barbara would emerge. Impetuous, daring, challenging.

She felt recklessly gay. To-night she could not fail. She spun recklessly to face Ethel.

“Do your damnedest,” she said gayly. “This is my night.”

Chapter Twenty-one

“I’ll have to stay well in the background to-night,” Ethel mused. “If Bob saw me it might start him thinking about you and looking for you. Though I don’t think there’s a chance in the world of him recognizing you in that outfit.” It was later in the evening and they were driving swiftly toward Brierly Manor.

“I feel so thrilled and funny,” Barbara exclaimed. Her eyes peered out from the slits in the full mask and were full of dancing lights. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I meet Bob. I feel as though I might explode when he looks at me.”

“Don’t lose your head,” Ethel cautioned. “Remember this is your night and you’re on masquerade. Don’t forget to change your voice as much as you can... and say just as little as possible. The quiet and demure pose is always intriguing.”

“Yes, I know.” Barbara laughed gayly. “How’s this?” She spoke throatily, in tones totally unlike her natural voice: “You’re doin’ things to my heart, big boy. How’s for steppin’ into the garden where we can cut loose?”

“Fine,” Ethel applauded. “He’ll never know you in a thousand years if you can remember to talk like that. Gee, I’m all thrilled myself to watch how it turns out.” She sighed wistfully and stepped on the accelerator.

“We’re almost there,” she muttered. “And just late enough to make an imposing entrance.”

“Is that it?” Barbara asked eagerly, pointing ahead to a subdued glow showing through a grove of trees.

“That’s it,” Ethel said complacently. “Keep a tight hold on everything, and remember you’re the Comtesse Du Barry tonight.”

She swerved the heavy car between stone pillars which flanked a concrete driveway. The subdued glow became a blaze of light. Large globes at the top of high poles illuminated a parking area nearly filled with massed automobiles.

Beyond, the mansion was a blaze of light. A uniformed attendant guided them to a parking place and helped them to alight. Soft strains of music came from the house and beyond. Muted laughter and the murmur of voices.

Barbara clutched desperately at Ethel’s arm as they passed up the walk together. For an instant she was desperately afraid. She felt an intruder, a fraud. Certainly they would find her out. A country girl daring to masquerade as the Comtesse Du Barry! It was absurd.

But Ethel pushed her away with mock viciousness. “Go it alone,” she said between her teeth. “You have your invitation in your bag. I’ll hang around outside until you conquer the receiving line. Strut your stuff and hold your head up.” She thrust her forward to climb the steps of the wide veranda alone.

Barbara drew on some hidden strength to move up the stairs and across the porch to the masked group in the doorway. She held her beaded bag fiercely and searched for the engraved invitation with nerveless fingers. A statuesque lady greeted her first. She wore a domino and a pleasant smile. That was all Barbara saw. She pushed the invitation toward her helplessly, and the lady passed it to a robust gentleman without a glance.

Barbara hesitated in the doorway as the statuesque lady took her hand warmly. She had a confused impression of a huge room crowded with people in fantastic regalia who paid her no heed.

Then the robust gentleman announced her in stentorian tones:

“The Comtesse Du Barry!” reading from the invitation where Ethel had scrawled the words.

It seemed to Barbara that every tongue in the crowded room was silenced, and that every eye was upon her. Through opened doors she could see the ballroom beyond. The strains of the orchestra came to her, and she could see couples moving to the slow rhythm of the waltz.

Bob would be there... and Sonia!

She started forward impulsively. She shook hands with strangers and murmured meaningless words in response to meaningless words as she moved down the receiving line toward the wide doors of the ballroom. She heard admiring comments, but paid them no heed. There was room for only one thought in her mind. One hope. One overwhelming necessity.

She must find Bob. The faces about her faded into an indistinguishable blur. Her lips moved mechanically behind the mask, and her eyes smiled impartially at all.

Then she was standing on the threshold of the ballroom. It was a blaze of light and of vivid color. A row of stags stood against the wall. The entire row surged toward her as one man. An emaciated person in a devil’s costume outstripped the others. His arm was about her and swung her toward the polished dance floor.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” she protested.

“Nor am I.” He laughed down at her. They were in the midst of other gyrating couples. Barbara let him draw her close as they took up the smooth step. She wasn’t thinking about him... nor about the dance. Every fiber of her body was fired with the need to find Bob among the dancers.

She peered into every face as she passed, seeking any one of the three... Frank, Sonia, or Bob.

“Looking for someone?” Her partner had noticed her questing eyes. He smiled down at her tolerantly.

“Yes,” she admitted breathlessly. “Someone I must find.”

“He or she?” he asked quickly.

“He,” Barbara admitted with a quickly tossed, coquettish glance.

“As I thought,” the emaciated devil said mournfully. “I might have known you were too good to be true. Something like you happens once every thousand years... and you’re always looking for the other man. Tell me how he’s costumed so I can steer you away from him if I’m lucky enough to see him first.”

“I will not,” Barbara retorted. “For the perfectly good reason that I don’t know myself. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.” She smiled at him to take the sting from her words.

“Nothing could be fairer,” he admitted. The dance ended abruptly, and he clapped his hands with others for an encore.

They danced again, and Barbara’s eyes continued their anxious seeking. Perhaps the others were outside at one of the other two dance pavilions. But she did not think so. Sonia had definitely promised to give Bob to her. Surely she would contrive to remain where they could be found.

A strange fear took hold of Barbara and the gayety died from her eyes. Perhaps Sonia and Bob had not come. Suppose Sonia had reconsidered after promising? Suppose she had promised only to stop Barbara’s importunities? Perhaps she had not meant to come at all. Bob might, even now, be at her cottage with her. Behind those white walls which must hold so many secrets.

Barbara’s heart seemed to cease beating, and she missed a step.

“Anything wrong?” her tall partner asked quickly. “I suppose you’ve found him,” he went on angrily.

Barbara swallowed a sob and made her lips smile. “That’s exactly the trouble,” she admitted. “I don’t see him.”

Then she saw Frank, and the world righted itself. He stood against the wall, dressed in a natty sailor costume. Barbara recognized him instantly. He surveyed the dancers moodily and his face looked wearied beneath its half mask.

“There,” Barbara breathed exultantly. “Let’s dance over to him.” She indicated Frank to her partner.

“Is that the reprobate you’re looking for?”

“One of them,” Barbara said nervously.

“One of them?” He sighed moodily, but dexterously steered a way among the moving couples to Frank’s side.