Marillyn smiled. "Ann is in love with you, Dale. She visits me often,
and you should see her eyes sparkle when we mention you. Dale, will you
see her tonight?"
"Maybe I will," he said, "but there won't be any marriage until you are
well."
"You've been apart six months now," Marillyn said softly. "Maybe if you
see her you will change your mind."
Ann would be a wonderful wife. She was much like Marillyn--dark-haired,
quick-moving, dignified but warm, affectionate, and loyal. His wife
would have to be loyal, of course, like Marillyn. That was essential.
He hired a car that afternoon and drove out to the castle to surprise
Ann. He reached the grounds just before dark, so he parked the car on
the hill where Ann and he had been that last night. Maybe she and he
would walk back there later.
He started to walk through the grounds, and when he reached the flower
garden it was almost dark. He walked along the cinder-path by the
roses, then cut across the grass. He heard murmuring voices, and a
moment later he saw Ann walking in the garden. With her was a man, and
his arm was around her. The man stopped to snap off a rose. He turned
to Ann with a graceful, almost feminine gesture, and she smiled. Then
with elaborate and intimate motions he pinned the rose in her hair.
Dale was hurt. He went back quietly to the car. Of course he had not
asked her to marry him, but then he had mentioned it--and couldn't she
be loyal to his memory? Dale was filled with unexpected jealousy.
After a restless night he had just about rationalized the entire
situation. He knew the scene in the garden did not necessarily mean
anything. He would phone Ann, mention last night, and of course she
would explain. Then he picked up the morning telepaper from London and
read in the gossip column that Ann Wondra, the Polish beauty, might
soon announce her engagement to Georges Raoul Dumont, son of the French
ambassador. Dale was stricken--
And was still in that state of mind, the Bryd saw, when a man came to
his hotel room that afternoon. "You are in charge of sun-station No.
18, over Paris, I believe."
This was very interesting to the Bryd, because it saw that the man was
cleverly masked with a plastiform shell that did not at all appear to
be a mask.
"Yes," Dale said glumly.
* * * * *
The man's eyes looked speculative. He glanced at the telepaper on
Dale's bed, and the Bryd, figuratively speaking--for of course the Bryd
was nothing but pure energy--opened its eyes. For the Bryd knew the
man's thought, and was astonished to learn that Dale had been closely
watched for some time. Following the scene in the flower garden, the
item in the telepaper had been especially arranged to produce a certain
reaction in Dale Stevenson without Ann Wondra's knowledge.
"You know, of course," the man said, "that France is about to disturb
world peace by invading Spain."