The House of the Falcon
And so did these two voice their love that was to Edith the most splendid gift of this other world of the hills.
At a sound from below Donovan moved cautiously to the edge of the parapet. Edith heard Monsey speak, from the shadows that clung to the stone shelters of the courtyard.
"A truce, Donovan," he called. "Will you hold your fire, while we talk terms?"
The man in the tower considered.
"If your men stay where they are—yes," he announced, keeping well behind the stone breastwork. "No trickery, mind you!"
"Granted." The girl heard Monsey laugh. He spoke like one who held the situation well in hand. "May I compliment you on the trick you played us—warning off your Sayak friends? It was too bad, though, to give your secret away. You will do well to accept my terms."
"I was going to propose some of my own."
"No use, Mr. Donovan Khan."
"I'm afraid not. The Sayaks have marked you for their own," Donovan shifted guilefully into Turki, for the benefit of such of Monsey's men as might be within hearing.
Edith caught an oath from the courtyard below. Then the Russian responded something she could not understand. She leaned back against the timbers, waiting. Into her eyes crept the glimmer of countless stars. The heavens were afire, and in the clear mountain air the jeweled radiance of the sky seemed very close to the wearied girl.
The murmur of the men's voices went on, and her eyes closed through sheer drowsiness. She had not
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