away a few
days. Perhaps settling his affairs before his departure. I think," the
lover mused, "I will follow them to Europe, if they go, and, if they
stay, Willoughby will ask for my retention, and, after all, 'faint heart
never won fair lady.' Hawke is not an open suitor. If the old man should
ever marry this French beauty, I may find the pathway open to Nadine
Johnstone's side!"

So, with a "fighting chance," Captain Hardwicke determined that Miss
Nadine should know his heart before long, and have also a chance to know
her own mind. "The fact is, the old boy has lived the life of a recluse,
that's all, but I'll find a way to pierce the shell of his moroseness.
There's one comfort," he smiled, "No other fellow is making any
running."

In these swiftly gliding days of absence, Ram Lal Singh and the watchful
Major Alan Hawke conferred at length over narghileh and glass. A sullen
discontent had settled down on Hawke's brow when Berthe Louison publicly
departed upon her business trip with not even a fragmentary confidence.

"Wait for my return, and only watch the marble house," said the Madame.
"Do not be foolish enough to attempt to call on Miss Nadine. I heard
Johnstone tell the Swiss woman not to allow you to follow up any social
acquaintance with his daughter. 'I want Nadine to remain a girl as yet,'
growled the old brute. Now, the Swiss woman may be able to give you some
information."

"I'll do what I can," carelessly replied Alan Hawke, but his eyes
gleamed when she said:

"Do not sulk in your tent. On my return I shall have need of you. You
can prepare to go into action then."

"Where shall I address you at Calcutta?" demanded Hawke. "Something
might happen."

"Ah," smiled Berthe Louison. "Nothing will happen. Not a line, not
a telegram; send nothing, come what will! I return here soon, and,
besides, Old Johnstone might watch and intercept it. Remember, we do not
know each other. It would be a fatal mistake to write." And so she went
quietly on her way. The house was locked, the Indian servants having the
Madame's orders to admit no one, on any pretense. "Damn her!" growled
Alan Hawke, when the door was shut in his face. "She feared I would
give her away to Johnstone. No address! Not a line or a telegram! Only
wait--only wait!"

Ram Lal infuriated him later with the news that nothing could be learned
from the baffled spies of the household in the Silver Bungalow as to the
first or second interwiew of Jo