th of the wine--a touch of the old gallant spirit with
which he had faced a hard world, since the unfortunate incident which
had abruptly terminated his connection with "The Widow's" Service. His
eye swept carelessly over the international detachment seated at the
splendid table. Lively and chattering as they were, it was a human
Sahara to him. He easily recognized the "Ten-Pounder" element of
wandering Britons; poor, anxious-eyed beings grudgingly furloughed from
shop and desk, and now sternly determined to descend at Charing Cross
without breaking into the few reserve sovereigns. Serious-looking
women, clad in many colors, and stolid cockneys, hostile to all foreign
innovation, met his eye. He sighed as he cast his social net and drew up
nothing.

There was a vacant chair at his left. Very shortly, without turning his
eyes, he was made aware of the proximity of a woman, young, evidently a
continental, from her softly murmured French.

"Houbigant's Forest Violets," he murmured. "She is at least
semi-civilized!" He was dreaming of the far off lotos land which he
had left, as he felt the rebellious protest of his young blood and
the defiant spirit awaked by the mechanical luxury of the well-ordered
dinner. "These human pawns seem to be all prosperous, if not happy! I'll
have another shy at it! By God! I must get back to India!" The whole
checkered past rushed back over his mind! The fifteen years of his
"wanderjahre"! Scenes which even he dared not recall! Incidents which he
had never dared to own to any European! He but too well knew the origin
of his loosely applied title of Major--a field officer's rank more
honored at the easygoing clubs of Yokahama, Shanghai, and Hong Kong than
on the Army List--a rank best known at the ring-side of Indian sporting
grounds, and only tacitly accepted in the extra-official circles of
Hindustan. For it figured not in the official Army List, either as
active or retired. The whole panorama of the mystic land of the Hindus
was unrolled once more by the memories of fifteen clouded years, He
saw again his far-away theater of varied action, with its huge grim
mountains towering far over the snow line, its arid wastes, its fertile
plains bathed in intense sunshine, its mystic rivers, and its silent,
solemn shrines of the vanished gods.

Major Alan Hawke silently ran over his slender professional
accomplishments. "I'm not too heavy to ride yet. I've a fair hand at
cards--tough nerves, and e