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ender, imperial figure--a young girl seemingly about Elza's age. Dressed in a shimmering blue kirtle, short after the Venus fashion, with long grey stockings beneath. A girl with flowing waves of pure white hair to her waist--a girl of the Venus Central State. She seemed, like ourselves, a prisoner. An aura or barrage was around her tower. She stood there, back in the tower room, full in the rose-light as though surreptitiously trying to attract our attention.
As we gathered on our balcony, behind the glow of our own barrage, she gestured to us vehemently. And then, with one white arm, she began to semaphore. One arm, and then with both. Georg and I recognized it--the Secondary Code of the Anglo-Saxon Army. We murmured the letters aloud as she gave them:
"I am----" Abruptly she stopped. A violent gesture, and she disappeared; her rose-glow went out; her tower casement was dark. On a lower spider bridge Tarrano had appeared. He was crossing it on foot toward our tower, his small erect form advancing hastelessly, with the figure of Argo behind him.
He reached our lower entrance, cut off the barrage there, and entered. Argo replaced the barrage, lingered an instant, gazing upward at us with his habitual leer. Then he retraced his steps across the bridge and disappeared.
A moment more, and in our lounging apartment Tarrano faced us.
CHAPTER VIII
Unknown Friend
"Sit down." Tarrano motioned us to feather hassocks and stretched himself indolently upon our pillowed divan. With an elbow and hand supporting his head he regarded us with his sombre black eyes, his face impassive, an inscrutable smile playing about his thin lips.
"I wish to speak with you three. The Lady Elza----" His glance went to her briefly, then to Georg. "She has told you, perhaps, what I had to say to her?"
"Yes," said Georg shortly.
Elza had indeed told us. And with sinking heart I had listened, for i