ed. "I will only trust my
homeward pathway to Simpson, and my health is a good excuse for clearing
out for good. I can easily locate on the Continent--in Belgium, or
Switzerland--and out of reach of any little trouble to come. They've no
proof. This fellow has no list, thank Heaven. I'll slip down to Ceylon
and catch the first boat there to Suez. Then ho for Geneva!"

But Ram Lal Singh's slight defenses fell instantly before the golden
battering-ram of Madame Berthe Louison's direct onslaught. "I was busied
in the bazaars, buying jewels," he expostulated, when Jules Victor led
him into Madame Louison's boudoir. Even then Major Hawke was curiously
noting the dismantled condition of the reception-room, where Johnstone
had at last thrown off the mask.

"I leave Major Hawke here to close all my business, Ram Lal," she said.
"I go to Calcutta. I may be gone for some months. But I have watched you
and him. You are close friends--very close friends. Now, remember that
I pay him and I pay you. I wish you to give me--to sell me--the list of
the jewels which Johnstone took away from you and hid, when he was Hugh
Fraser." The old scoundrel began to protest. Berthe Louison rang her
silver bell. "Jules!" she said, "I wish you to go to General Willoughby
with this letter, and tell him to send a guard here to arrest a thief
who has government jewels."

Ram Lal was on the floor at her feet, groveling, before she grimly
smiled, as he held out a paper, quickly extracted from his red sash.
"That will do, Jules." The Frenchman stood without the door. "You will
not run away. You are far too rich, Ram Lal. And you will be watched
every moment. Sign and seal the list, and date it to-day." The old
craven begged hard for mercy. "Here is a hundred pounds. Hawke will pay
you four hundred more when I am safely on the sea, but only then! He
will close all my bills. Remember, I shall come back again. And," she
whispered a word, "he will watch you closely." The jeweler sealed the
document, and scribbled his certificate. "Not one word of my business,
not even to Hawke, on your life," she said. "I shall come again! And
General Willoughby will throw you in prison on a word from me."

Major Alan Hawke was astounded, after an hour's yielding to the social
charm of Madame Alixe Delavigne, when the happy woman led him away from
the dinner table. "Now for a half-hour's business chat," she gayly said.
"No, no notes. We shall next meet at No. 9 Rue Berlioz,