iss Bygrave's walking-dress.
If she has innocently placed any obstacles in your way, if her hair is
a little too low, or her frill is a little too high, I will exert my
authority, on the first harmless pretext I can think of, to have those
obstacles removed. All I ask is, that you will choose your opportunity
discreetly, and that you will not allow my niece to suppose that her
neck is the object of a gentleman's inspection."

The moment he was out of the parlor Captain Wragge ascended the stairs
at the top of his speed and knocked at Magdalen's door. She opened it to
him in her walking-dress, obedient to the signal agreed on between them
which summoned her downstairs.

"What have you done with your paints and powders?" asked the captain,
without wasting a word in preliminary explanations. "They were not in
the box of costumes which I sold for you at Birmingham. Where are they?"

"I have got them here," replied Magdalen. "What can you possibly mean by
wanting them now?"

"Bring them instantly into my dressing-room--the whole collection,
brushes, palette, and everything. Don't waste time in asking questions;
I'll tell you what has happened as we go on. Every moment is precious to
us. Follow me instantly!"

His face plainly showed that there was a serious reason for his strange
proposal. Magdalen secured her collection of cosmetics and followed him
into the dressing-room. He locked the door, placed her on a chair close
to the light, and then told her what had happened.

"We are on the brink of detection," proceeded the captain, carefully
mixing his colors with liquid glue, and with a strong "drier" added from
a bottle in his own possession. "There is only one chance for us (lift
up your hair from the left side of your neck)--I have told Mr. Noel
Vanstone to take a private opportunity of looking at you; and I am going
to give the lie direct to that she-devil Lecount by painting out your
moles."

"They can't be painted out," said Magdalen. "No color will stop on
them."

"_My_ color will," remarked Captain Wragge. "I have tried a variety of
professions in my time--the profession of painting among the rest. Did
you ever hear of such a thing as a Black Eye? I lived some months once
in the neighborhood of Drury Lane entirely on Black Eyes. My flesh-color
stood on bruises of all sorts, shades, and sizes, and it will stand, I
promise you, on your moles."

With this assurance, the captain dipped his brush into a little l