Remember that what we call our secrets are often the things everybody guesses.
The man of masks admits how thin masks can be. It’s playful, but the irony bites—concealment is labor, and audiences are good. The line hints that his enemies will eventually read the pattern behind the gifts. Emotionally, it’s a civilized shiver: what if the room already knows? The sentence teaches prudent humility about schemes. In a novel of plots, it’s a small safety pin.