"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

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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.




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