At last he persuaded himself that it was his duty as “uncle” to attend the play and make sure that Alice was still as happy as she had seemed the night before. He had not hired himself a valet, since a personal servant might have wondered at his master’s odd appearances and disappearances, and so it was a good hour before he let himself quietly out of the house with his hair carefully dressed and his chapeau bras under his arm and his sword stick at his side.

The night was warm and balmy and he decided to walk. As he turned out of the square, he had an uneasy feeling that he was being followed. He turned quickly around and just out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow, slightly blacker than the other shadows, slink into a doorway.

The Duke walked on until he came to a point where the road was crossed by a narrow lane. He swerved suddenly into the lane and quickly practiced his latest trick, that of making himself invisible.

He waited.

At the crossing a tall figure came to a stop and turned his head slowly this way and that, his features momentarily lit by the flickering light of a parish lamp.

It was Mr. Bessant. The Duke drew in his breath sharply. He must warn Alice to be on her guard. Bessant must have recognized one or both of them at the ball. He cursed himself for having exposed her to danger.

Mr. Bessant hurried on. He could not understand where his quarry had disappeared to.

He had thought and thought since the ball and, in retrospect, it seemed to his agile brain too much of a coincidence that two people looking remarkably like Alice and her friend should have reappeared together.

He made his way along the street, head bent in thought. He felt a sudden brush of air past his cheek and a light mocking laugh sounded in his ear. He whirled this way and that, but, apart from himself the street was deserted.

The Duke made his way into the theater, avoiding the solicitations of the drabs who would do anything for a shilling’s worth of rum. That at least had not changed since his day.

He purchased a ticket for the pit and stood at the entrance, his eyes raking along the row of boxes. At last he saw her, her face partly concealed by the red curtain. Miss Fadden was fast asleep beside her in one chair and Sir Peregrine was in the other.

Alice and Sir Peregrine were paying no attention to the stage but were gazing into each other’s eyes. The Duke wished he had not come, but nonetheless, waited patiently until the end of the play which had only a few minutes to run. All at once, he decided to go back to Manchester Square and await Alice there. He would not spoil a promising courtship.