“For the birdmen’s chauffeurs—I have two—very prettiest girls—two for each—”
“At the Seventh Regiment?”
“A girl for every waiter to help them serve. My girls they help the waiters everywhere—”
A look of fierce triumph overspread the dark features of the little mother. Her eyes grew misty. She fumbled in her bosom and slowly drew out the blood-stained flag her boy had worn on his breast.
“And I have the flag, signorina! When I tear the red crown from the staff I wave this one and shout for my bambino.”
Virginia merely nodded. Her mind was sweeping the last possibility of accident.
“You haven’t been able to reach a single man among the wireless operators of the Woolworth tower?” she asked dreamily.
“Not one, signorina. The old devil up there don’t like the girls. He is not human—”
“There’s no help for it then,” she answered. “We’ll try another way. When all is ready attend me at the palace of the Governor-General. When the signal flashes from the Metropolitan tower I want the car I always drive at the door instantly—”
“Si, signorina—my chauffeur he like me very much—I must think of my bambino when I strike!”