whose bosom quaked in fear when Hawke's letter, sent by a messenger,
bade Ram Lal await him at midnight.

"Does he know?" gasped Ram Lal, with chattering teeth, and yet he dared
not fly.

An early evening interview with General Willoughby had disclosed to the
Major the inconvenient fact that the dead nabob had left a carefully
drawn will, whereof Andrew Fraser, of St. Heliers, Jersey, and Douglas
Fraser, of Calcutta, were executors. "There is a duplicate will here in
the Bengal Bank," so telegraphed the solicitor, "and I have now notified
both the executors. I presume that Mr. Douglas Fraser will return here
at once, as he is absent in Europe on leave. It may be a week or more
until he receives the sad intelligence."

Alan Hawke softly smiled at those touching words, "Sad intelligence."
It was only the perfunctory regret of the shark-like lawyer, and the
secretly rejoicing heirs. "This is not a case where the one who goes is
happier than the one that's left behind," mused Hawke. "I must settle
matters rapidly with Ram Lal, for if the will leaves the property to
Nadine, she must be mine at all costs!

"Shall I not send a well-armed man with you, Major?" asked the Captain.
"It is very late!"

"Thanks, Jordan," lightly said the Major. "I've a good revolver and my
service sword--a priceless old wootz steel tulwar. I'm good for a dozen
Pandies! I'm used to Thug--and Dacoit, to bandit and ruffian. I have a
little private business to attend to, and I'll come home in a trap!"

By a strange chance, Major Alan Hawke, the distinguished favorite of
fortune, slunk along in byway and shadow till he reached the cottage,
where a lovely woman, flower wreathed, with child-like face and timid,
mournful eyes, anxiously awaited him. "I'll be back in two or three
hours," he carelessly said, as he tossed her a roll of rupees. Then,
with a long, slender package hidden in his bosom, he stole out after a
long circuit and entered Ram Lal's compound by the rear entrance, always
at his use.

"It is just as well not to make any little mistake just now," mused
Hawke, as with cat-like tread he sped through the old jeweler's garden.
And the "prevention of mistakes" consisted in the heavy Adams revolver
which he carried slung around his neck and shoulder by a heavy cord, in
the handy Russian fashion.

His left hand steadied the peculiar parcel which he had so carefully
hidden. An amused smile flitted over his face when old Ram Lal opened
the