ndy pawnee.

And so it was noted that Alan Hawke was a devilish pleasant fellow, a
rising man, and one who had certainly dropped into an extremely good
thing. The tide of Fortune was setting directly in favor of the man
who, pacing the floor upstairs, unavailingly tormented himself with the
subject of the missing jewels.

"If I could only get a hold on Hugh Johnstone!" mused the adventurer.
"Berthe Louison knows nothing of these old matters. She only seeks to
approach the child. And she will be here to watch me in a day or so.
Ram Lal, the old scoundrel! Does he know? If he did, he would bleed the
would-be Baronet on his own account. But he may not know of the golden
opportunity, and the old wretch always has many irons himself in the
fire. Hugh Fraser was a canny Scot in his youth. Sir Hugh Johnstone is a
horse of another color. If old Johnstone has the jewels, why does he not
yield them up? Perhaps he wants the Baronetcy first, and then his memory
may be strangely refreshed."

As the wanderer strode up and down the room like a restless wolf, he
returned in his memories to the strange intimacy of Hugh Fraser and Ram
Lal. "I have it!" he cried. "I will kill two birds with one stone. My
pretty 'employer' shall furnish the golden means to loosen old Ram Lal's
tongue. This Swiss woman is fond of gewgaws, he tells me. I will let Ram
Lal 'squeeze' the Madame's household accounts to his heart's content. If
the Swiss woman is susceptible, she can be delicately bribed with
jewels paid for by my haughty employer's money, and my feeding this
'bucksheesh' out to Ram Lal liberally may bring him to talk of the old
days. I must give Hugh Johnstone the idea that I am inside the official
secrets as to the affair of the Baronetcy. Fear will make him bend, if
he is guilty, and I will alarm Ram Lal at the right time. If they have
any old bond of union, the ex-Commissioner may turn to me for help,
and all this will bring me nearer to the still heart-whole woman who is
hidden in that marble prison. I will make my strongest running on the
Swiss woman. Once the bond of friendly secrecy established between us,
she can be fed, bit by bit, for then she dare not break away."

Ram Lal Singh was the last watcher in Delhi who coveted a glimpse that
night into the dim future. The old schemer sat alone in his favorite
den in rear of the shop. His round, black eyes surveyed complacently his
faithful domestics, sleeping on the floor at the threshold