g curiosity and romantically born love was now strong
upon him. A second conference with his old friend Simpson enlightened
the engineer officer upon many things, as yet "seen in a glass darkly."
He began to fear that Alan Hawke was growing dangerous as the secret
juggler in the strange social situation at the marble house. With
the vise-like memory of an old soldier, Simpson had retained various
anecdotes not entirely to the credit of the self-promoted Major
Alan Hawke, and had partly supplied the hiatus between the sudden
disappearance of the desperate lieutenant, a rake gambler and
profligate, and the return of the prosperous and debonnaire Major
en re'traite. "Don't let him work too long around Miss Nadine, Major
Hardwicke," said the wary Simpson. "Sly and quiet as he seems, he's
surely here for no good. I know him of old. He's forgotten me, though."

That night, the night when Berthe Louison, in her special car was
nearing Calcutta, at last, Captain Hardwicke was haunted in his dreams
by the sweet apparition of Nadine Johnstone, and her lovely arms were
stretched appealingly to him. It was the early dawn when he awoke, and
sprang blithely from his couch. "If that graceful shade crosses my
path to-day, I'll speak to it in the flesh--though a dozen Hawkes and a
hundred crusty fathers forbid," he gayly cried, for his entrancing dream
had given him a strangely prophetic courage.

In the ambrosial freshness of the morning, a long gallop upon his pet
charger, "Garibaldi," restored the equilibrium of the young officer's
nerves. He had neatly taken the strong-limbed cross-country horse over a
dozen of the old walls out by the Kootab Minar, and with the reins lying
loosely on Garibaldi's neck, he rode back to the live city by the side
of its two dead progenitors.

The bustle and hum of awaking Delhi interested him not, for a fond
unrest led him down to the great walled inclosure of the marble house.

"Shall I see her to-day? Will she be in the garden?" he murmured in his
loving day-dream.

The springy feet of the charger dropped noiselessly on the lonely
avenue and already the double carriage gate was in sight. An instinct
of martial coquetry caused Harry Hardwicke to gather up his reins and
straighten lightly into the military position of eyes right. He was
watching the gate of Paradise, a Paradise as yet forbidden to him.

Yes. There was the gleam of white robes shining out across the friendly
gate.

Standing unde