"It's no wonder she loved him and--married him."
"He deserved the best that life could give, Miss Calhoun."
"You had better not call me Miss Calhoun, Colonel Quinnox," said she,
looking back apprehensively. "I am a highness once in a while, don't you
know?"
"I implore your highness's pardon!" said he gaily.
The riders ahead had come to a standstill and were pointing off into the
pass to their right. They were eight or ten miles from the city gates
and more than half way up the winding road that ended at the monastery
gates. Beverly and Quinnox came up with them and found all eyes centered
on a small company of men encamped in the rocky defile a hundred yards
from the main road.
It needed but a glance to tell her who comprised the unusual
company. The very raggedness of their garments, the unforgetable
disregard for consequences, the impudent ease with which they faced
poverty and wealth alike, belonged to but one set of men--the vagabonds
of the Hawk and Raven. Beverly went a shade whiter; her interest in
everything else flagged, and she was lost in bewilderment. What freak of
fortune had sent these men out of the fastnesses into this dangerously
open place?
She recognized the ascetic Ravone, with his student's face and beggar's
garb. Old Franz was there, and so were others whose faces and
heterogeneous garments had become so familiar to her in another day. The
tall leader with the red feather, the rakish hat and the black patch
alone was missing; from the picture.
"It's the strangest-looking crew I've ever seen," said Anguish. "They
look like pirates."
"Or gypsies" suggested Yetive. "Who are they, Colonel Quinnox? What are
they doing here?" Quinnox was surveying the vagabonds with a critical,
suspicious eye.
"They are not robbers or they would be off like rabbits" he said
reflectively. "Your highness, there are many roving bands in the hills,
but I confess that these men are unlike any I have heard about. With
your permission, I will ride down and question them."
"Do, Quinnox. I am most curious."
Beverly sat very still and tense. She was afraid to look at Baldos, who
rode up as Quinnox started into the narrow defile, calling to the escort
to follow. The keen eyes of the guard caught the situation at once. Miss
Calhoun shot a quick glance at him as he rode up beside her. His face
was impassive, but she could see his hand clench the bridle-rein, and
there was an air of restraint in his whole bearing.
"Remember your promise," he whispered hoarsely. "No harm must come to
them." Then he was off into the defile. Anguish was not to be left
behind. He followed, and then Beverly, more venturesome and vastly more
interested than the others, rode recklessly after. Quinnox was
questioning the laconic Ravone when she drew rein. The vagabonds seemed
to evince but little interest in the proceedings. They stood away in
disdainful aloofness. No sign of recognition passed between them and
Baldos.