In Secret

And an Alpinist signalled an airplane over Mount Terrible from the White Shoulder of Thusis.

In the silvery dusk a cock-pheasant was crowing somewhere on a wheat-field's edge.

And in the enchantment of that lovely liaison which links day and night—when the gold and rose soften to mauve as the first star is born—John Recklow raised his quiet eyes and saw two dead souls come into his garden by the little door in the wall.

A rich September sunset light streamed over them; like a moving shaft of divine fire the ruddy dust marched with them upon their right hand; legions of avenging shadows led them forward where, for nearly half a century beyond the barriers of purple hills, naked and shackled, the martyr-daughters of the Motherland stood waiting—Alsace and Lorraine.

Chapter 12 THE GREAT SECRET

Her breeches, which left both knees bare, were of leather and held out pretty well, but the heavy wool stockings gaped, and, had it not been for the hob-nails, the soles must have fallen from her hunter's shoes.

And, even as he was speaking, a far voice cried through the woods—distant, sinister as the harsh scream of a hawk that has made its kill.

"HIS HAND IS NOT WOUNDED," breathed the girl.

We should be in a cul-de-sac, Yellow-hair."

Chapter 9 THE BLINDER TRAIL