"It is my belief, Mr. Lorry, that the fires were built by brigands and
not by your military foes. I have seen these fires in the north, near
Axphain, and they were invariably meant to establish communication
between separated squads of robbers, all belonging to one band. My
friends and I on more than one occasion narrowly escaped disaster by
prying into the affairs of these signalers. I take it that the squads
have been operating in the south and were brought together last night by
means of the fires. Doubtless they have some big project of their own
sort on foot."
That night the city looked for a repetition of the fires, but the
mountains were black from dusk till dawn. Word reached the castle late
in the evening, from Ganlook, that an Axphainian nobleman and his
followers would reach Edelweiss the next day. The visit was a friendly
but an important one. The nobleman was no other than the young Duke of
Mizrox, intimate friend of the unfortunate Prince Lorenz who met his
death at the hand of Prince Gabriel, and was the leader of the party
which opposed the vengeful plans of Princess Volga. His arrival in
Edelweiss was awaited with deep anxiety, for it was suspected that his
news would be of the most important character.
Beverly Calhoun sat on the balcony with the princess long after
midnight. The sky was black with the clouds of an approaching storm; the
air was heavy with foreboding silence. Twice, from their darkened corner
near the pillar, they saw Baldos as he paced steadily past the castle on
patrol, with Haddan at his side. Dreamily the watchers in the cool
balcony looked down upon the somber park and its occasional
guardsman. Neither was in the mood to talk. As they rose at last to go
to their rooms, something whizzed through the air and dropped with a
slight thud in the center of the balcony. The two young women started
back in alarm. A faint light from Beverly's window filtered across the
stone floor.
"Don't touch it, Beverly," cried the princess, as the girl started
forward with an eager exclamation. But Beverly had been thinking of the
very object that now quivered before her in the dull light, saucy,
aggressive and jaunty as it was the night when she saw it for the first
time.
A long, slim red feather bobbed to and fro as if saluting her with
soldierly fidelity. Its base was an orange, into which it had been stuck
by the hand that tossed it from below. Beverly grasped it with more
ecstasy than wisdom and then rushed to the stone railing, Yetive looking
on in amazement. Diligently she searched the ground below for the man
who had sent the red message, but he was nowhere in sight. Then came the
sudden realization that she was revealing a most unmaidenly eagerness,
to him as well as to the princess, for she did not doubt that he was
watching from the shadows below. She withdrew from the rail in confusion
and fled to her bed-chamber, followed by her curious companion. There
were explanations--none of which struck speaker or listener as
logical--and there were giggles which completely simplified the
situation. Beverly thrust the slim red feather into her hair, and struck
an attitude that would have set Baldos wild with joy if he could have
seen it. The next day, when she appeared in the park, the feather stood
up defiantly from the band of her sailor hat, though womanly
perverseness impelled her to ignore Baldos when he passed her on his way
to mess.