“It stands for the letter U, sir.”
“How do you know?”
The Messenger, seated sideways on the camp table, one small foot swinging, looked down and bit her lip.
“Must I tell you?”
“As you please. And I’ll say now that your solving this intricate and devilish cipher is, to me, a more utterly amazing performance than the rebel use of bees as messengers.”
She shook her head slowly.
“It need not amaze you.... I was born in Sandy River.... And in happier times—when my parents were living—I spent the school vacations there.... We had always kept bees.... There was—in those days—a boy. We were very young and—romantic. We exchanged vows—and bees—and messages in cipher.... I knew this cipher as soon as I saw it. I invented it—long ago—for him and me.”
“W-well,” stammered the bewildered Colonel, “I don’t see how——”
“I do, sir. Our girl and boy romance was a summer dream. One day he dreamed truer. So did the beautiful Miss Carryl.... And the pretty game I invented for him he taught in turn to his fiancée.... Well, he died in The Valley.... And I have just given his fiancée her passport. It would be very kind of you to station a guard at the Carryl place for its protection. Would you mind giving the order, sir?... He is buried there.”
The Colonel, hands clasped behind him, walked to the tent door.