They held back and watched her, unseen. The soft light of early evening fell upon her figure as she stood erect, lithe and sinuous in the open s.p.a.ce between the ivy-clad posts; her face and hands were soft tinted by the glow from the reflecting east, her hair was like a bronze relief against the dark green of the mountain. She was dressed in white--a modish gown of rich Irish lace. One instantly likened this rare young creature to a rare old painting.

Genevra smiled securely in her supposed aloofness from the world. Then, suddenly moved by a strange impulse, she gently waved her handkerchief, as if in greeting to some one far off in the gloaming. The action was a mischievous one, no doubt, and it had its consequences--rather sudden and startling, if the observers were to judge by her subsequent movements. She lowered the gla.s.s instantly; there was a quick catch in her breath--as if a laugh had been checked; confusion swept over her, and she drew back into the shadows as a guilty child might have done.

They distinctly heard her murmur as she crossed the flags and disappeared through the French window, without seeing them:

"Oh, dear, what a crazy thing to do!"

Genevra, peering through the gla.s.ses, had discovered the figure of Chase on the bungalow porch. She was amused to find that he, from his distant post, was also regarding the chateau through a pair of gla.s.ses. A spirit of adventure, risk, mischief, as uncontrolled as breath itself, impelled her to flaunt her handkerchief. That treacherous spirit deserted her most shamelessly when her startled eyes saw that he was waving a response. She laid awake for a long time that night wondering what he would think of her for that wretched bit of frivolity. Then at last a new thought came to her relief, but it did not give her the peace of mind that she desired.

He may have mistaken her for Lady Deppingham.

CHAPTER XVI

TWO CALLS FROM THE ENEMY

Deppingham was up and about quite early the next morning--that is, quite early for him. He had his rolls and coffee and strolled out in the shady park for a smoke. The Princess, whose sense of humiliation had not been lessened by the fitful sleep of the night before, was walking in the shade of the trees on the lower terrace, beyond the fountains and the artificial lake. A great straw hat, borrowed from Lady Agnes, shaded her face from the glare of the mid-morning sun. Farther up the slope, one of the maids was playing with the dogs. She waved her hand gaily and paused to wait for him.

"I was thinking of you," she said in greeting, as he came up.

"How nice you are," he said. "But, my dear, is it wise in you to be thinking of us handsome devils? It's a most dangerous habit--thinking of other men."

"But, Deppy, dear, the Prince isn't here," she said, falling into his humour. "That makes quite a difference, doesn't it?"

"Your logic is splendid. Pray resume your thoughts of me--if they were pleasant and agreeable. I'll not blow on you to Karl."

"I was just thinking what a lucky fellow you are to have such a darling as Agnes for a wife."

"You might as well say that Agnes ought to feel set up because Pong has a nice coat. By the way, I have a compliment for you--no, not one of their beastly trade-lasts! Browne says your hair is more beautiful than Pong's. That's quite a compliment, t.i.tian never even dreamed of hair like Pong's."

"You know, Deppy," she said with a pout, "I am very unhappy about my hair. It is quite red. I don't see why I should have hair like that of a red c.o.c.ker. It seems so animalish."

"Rubbish! Why should you complain? Look at my hair. It's been likened more than once to that of a jersey cow."

"Oh, how I adore jersey cows! Now, I wouldn't mind that a bit."

They were looking toward the lower gates while carrying on this frivolous conversation. A man had just entered and was coming toward them. Both recognised the tall figure in grey flannels. Deppingham's emotion was that of undisguised amazement; Genevra's that of confusion and embarra.s.sment. She barely had recovered her lost composure when the newcomer was close upon them.

There was nothing in the manner of Chase, however, to cause the slightest feeling of uneasiness. He was frankness itself. His smile was one of apology, almost of entreaty; his broad gra.s.s helmet was in his hand and his bow was one of utmost deference.

"I trust I am not intruding," he said as he came up. His gaze was as much for Deppingham as for the Princess, his remark quite impersonal.

"Not at all, not at all," said Deppingham quickly, his heart leaping to the conclusion that the way to the American bar was likely to be opened at last. "Charmed to have you here, Mr. Chase. You've been most unneighbourly. Have you been presented to her Highness, the--Oh, to be sure. Of course you have. Stupid of me."

"We met ages ago," she said with an ingenuous smile, which would have disarmed Chase if he had been prepared for anything else. As a matter of fact, he had approached her in the light of an adventurer who expects nothing and grasps at straws.

"In the dark ages," said he so ruefully that her smile grew. He had come, in truth, to ascertain why her husband had not come with her.

"But not the forgotten variety, I fancy," said Deppingham shrewdly.

"It would be impossible for the Princess to forget the greatest of all fools," said Chase.

"He was no worse than other mortals," said she.

"Thank you," said Chase. Then he turned to Lord Deppingham. "My visit requires some explanation, Lord Deppingham. You have said that I am unneighbourly. No doubt you appreciate my reasons. One has to respect appearances," with a dry smile. "When one is in doubt he must do as the Moslems do, especially if the Moslems don't want him to do as he wants to do."

"No doubt you're right, but it sounds a bit involved," murmured Deppingham. "Now that you are here you must do as the Moslems don't.

That's our Golden Rule. We'll consider the visit explained, but not curtailed. Lady Deppingham will be delighted to see you. Are you ready to come in, Princess?"

They started toward the chateau, keeping well in the shade of the boxed trees, the Princess between the two men.

"I say, Chase, do you mind relieving my fears a bit? With all due respect to your estimable clients, it occurs to me that they are likely to break over the traces at any moment, and raise the very old Harry at somebody else's expense. I'd like to know if my head is really safe.

Since your experience the other night, I'm a bit apprehensive."

"I came to see you in regard to that very thing, Lord Deppingham. I don't want to alarm you, but I do not like the appearance of things.

They don't trust me and they hate you--quite naturally. I'm rather sorry that our British man-of-war is out of reach. Pray, don't be alarmed, Princess. It is most improbable that anything evil will happen. And, in any event, we can hold out against them until relief comes."

"We?" demanded Deppingham.

"Certainly. If it comes to an a.s.sault of any kind upon the chateau, I trust that I may be considered as one of you. I won't serve a.s.sa.s.sins and bandits--at least, not after they've got beyond my control. Besides, if the worst should come, they won't discriminate in my favour."

"Why do you stay here, Mr. Chase?" asked the Princess. "You admit that they do not like you or trust you. Why do you stay?"

"I came out here to escape certain consequences," said he candidly.

"I'll stay to enjoy the uncertain ones. I am not in the least alarmed on my own account. The object of my visit, Lord Deppingham, is to ask you to be on your guard up here. After the next steamer arrives, and they learn that Sir John will not withdraw me in submission to Rasula's demand, with the additional news that your solicitors have filed injunctions and have begun a bitter contest that may tie up the estate for years--then, I say, we may have trouble. It is best that you should know what to expect. I am not a traitor to my cause, in telling you this; it is no more than I would expect from you were the conditions reversed. Moreover, I do not forget that you gave me the man-of-war opportunity. That was rather good fun."

"It's mighty decent in you, Chase, to put us on our guard. Would you mind talking it over with Browne and me after luncheon? You'll stay to luncheon, of course?"

"Thank you. It may be my death sentence, but I'll stay."

In the wide east gallery they saw Lady Deppingham and Bobby Browne, deeply engrossed in conversation. They were seated in the shade of the wisteria, and the two were close upon them before they heard their voices. Deppingham started and involuntarily allowed his hand to go to his temple, as if to check the thought that flitted through his brain.

"Good Lord," he said to himself, "is it possible that they are considering that demmed Saunders's proposition? Surely they can't be thinking of that!"

As he led the way across the green, Browne's voice came to them distinctly. He was saying earnestly:

"The mere fact that we have come out to this blessed isle is a point in favour of the islanders. Chase won't overlook it and you may be sure Sir John Brodney is making the most of it. Our coming is a guarantee that we consider the will valid. It is an admission that we regard it as sound.

If not, why should we recognise its provisions, even in the slightest detail? Britt is looking for hallucinations and all--"

"Sh!" came in a loud hiss from somewhere near at hand, and the two in the gallery looked down with startled eyes upon the distressed face of Lord Deppingham. They started to their feet at once, astonishment and wonder in their faces. They could scarcely believe their eyes. The Enemy!

He was smiling broadly as he lifted his helmet, smiling in spite of the discomfort that showed so plainly in Deppingham's manner.

Chase was warmly welcomed by the two heirs. Lady Agnes was especially cordial. Her eyes gleamed joyously as she lifted them to meet his admiring gaze. She was amazingly pretty. The conviction that Chase had mistaken her for Lady Agnes, the evening before, took a fresh grasp upon the mind of the Princess Genevra. A shameless wave of relief surged through her heart.

Chase was presented to Drusilla Browne, who appeared suddenly upon the scene, coming from no one knew where. There was a certain strained look in the Boston woman's face and a suspicious redness near the bridge of her little nose. As she had not yet acquired the Boston habit of wearing gla.s.ses, whether she needed them or not, the irritation could hardly be attributed to tight _pince nez_. Genevra made up her mind on the instant that Drusilla was making herself unhappy over her good-looking husband's attentions to his co-legatee.