ow that--but, as yet, no
more."

"What do you mean? Is he lying to me?" gasped Hardwicke, with a sinking
heart.

"Rightly said!" huskily whispered Simpson. "Seek for her--London
ways--I'll find it out soon where she is, and I'm just scholar enough to
write! Give me your own safe London address! I heard ye would soon take
yer long leave. Bless her sweet soul! I'll tell ye now! She whispered to
me: 'Tell him--tell Major Hardwicke--he'll hear from me himself, even if
I was at the very end of the earth! and give him this!'" The frightened
servant thrust a little packet into the officer's hand. "It was the only
chance she had."

"That Swiss woman watched her every moment, and the man--the one the
father sent from Calcutta. There was a telegram to her. I gave it to her
myself! Major, my oath--they're on the blue water, now! I'll watch and
come to you! Don't leave Delhi till I post you!"

"You're a brave fellow, Simpson. Keep this all quiet," softly said Major
Hardwicke. "I'll follow your advice, and I'll not leave here till I know
more from you. I'll follow her to Japan, but I'll see her again."

"That's the talk, Major!" cried the happy old soldier, who felt
something crisp in his hand now. "Distrust old Hugh! He'll lie to ye and
trap ye! Watch him! He's capable of anything." The carriage then stopped
with a crash and Hardwicke sprang out lightly. "Make no sign! Trust to
me! I'll come to ye!" was Simpson's last word.

Before Simpson had discovered in the marble house the pleasing figures
on a ten-pound note, Harry Hardwicke, striding up and down his room, in
all the ecstasy of a happy lover, had kissed a hundred times a little
silver card case--a mere school girl's poor treasure, but priceless
now--for within it was a hastily severed tress of gold-brown hair, tied
with a bit of blue ribbon. A scrap of paper in penciled words brought to
him "Confirmation stronger than Holy Writ." "I will write or telegraph
when not watched. Do not forget. --Nadine."

The words of the old servitor returned to the soldier in a grim warning.
"He is capable of anything."

"So am I," cried Harry as his heart leaped up. "I will find her were
she at the North Pole. He cannot hide her from me. Love laughs at
locksmiths!"

If the would-be Sir Hugh Johnstone had heard the three verdicts of
the hostile critics of his being "capable of anything," he might have
laughed in defiance, but after several friendly "night caps" with the
slightly jovi