And, lastly, she turns up in the shape of a court-page, and
swaggers along London Bridge at this hour of the night, chanting
a love song. Faith! it would puzzle the sphinx herself to read
this riddle, I've a notion!"
"I, for one, shall never try to read it," said Sir Norman. "I am
about tired of this labyrinth of mysteries, and shall save time
and La Masque to unravel them at their leisure."
"Then you mean to give up the pursuit?"
"Not exactly. I love this mysterious beauty too well to do that;
and when next I find her, be it where it may, I shall take care
she does not slip so easily through my fingers."
"I cannot forget that page," said Ormiston, musingly. "It is
singular, since, he wears the Earl of Rochester's livery, that we
have never seen him before among his followers. Are you quite
sure, Sir Norman, that you have not?"
"Seen him? Don't be absurd, Ormiston! Do you think I could ever
forget such a face as that?"
"It would not be easy, I confess. One does not see such every
day. And yet - and yet - it is most extraordinary!"
"I shall ask Rochester about him the first thing to-morrow; and
unless he is an optical illusion - which I vow I half believe is
the case - I will come at the truth in spite of your demoniac
friend, La Masque!"
"Then you do not mean to look for him to-night?"
"Look for him? I might as well look for a needle in a haystack.
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