curls sat a flat-brimmed, round-crowned hat in which a single plume of
white waved and nodded bravely at each move of the proud little head.

The child's features were well molded, and his frank, bright eyes gave an
expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would have been
too arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby. As he talked with his
companion, little flashes of peremptory authority and dignity, which sat
strangely upon one so tiny, caused the young woman at times to turn her
head from him that he might not see the smiles which she could scarce
repress.

Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a little
bush near them, said, "Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush. I would
play at toss."

The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her place and
turned to face him the boy threw the ball to her. Thus they played beneath
the windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after the ball when he
missed it, and laughing and shouting in happy glee when he made a
particularly good catch.

In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a grim,
gray, old man, leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn together in a
malignant scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line.

He looked upon the garden and the playing child, and upon the lovely young
woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for De Vac was working
out a great problem, the greatest of all his life.

For three days, the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking for