interests of Her Majesty's Service! And you--only
your own loving heart! I must first meet Major Alan Hawke, and send him
away to be busied on some apparently important duty, which will keep
him away from old Andrew Fraser. We know the old professor's cunning
character. Miser and pedant, he is but a shriveled parchment edition
of his heartless, dead brother. We must not alarm him. We have already
traced the insured packet to his hands. Now, he properly has the custody
of the dead nabob's will. He may soon have to bring the girl on to
London, for the legal formalities of proving it. We do not wish him to
send the stolen jewels away in a sudden fright, and so hide them from us
forever. If he qualifies duly as executor, and then files the will, then
the estate is responsible, through him.

"We will soon know who controls your niece for the three years of her
long minority. Hawke must be got out of the way. I will hoodwink him,
and every British Consul in the continental towns which he visits will
secretly watch him for me. Besides, Major Hardwicke and Murray will
be here very scon, to aid me, and to watch Hawke. I wish Alan Hawke
to blunder around, hunting for Major Hardwicke, and so give me an
opportunity to do my duty secretly, and to aid you in your own labor
of love. In the mean time--you must be content to rest tranquilly here;
cultivate my dear old aunt, and I will come to you daily so that your
quiet life in this 'moated grange' will be brightened up a bit. You
see," thoughtfully said Anstruther, "whoever sent old Johnstone to his
grave, he had previously spirited the heiress away--all his plans for
the future were perfectly matured with all the craft of a man well
versed in intrigue for forty years. His bitter hatred of you did not die
with him. You may be assured that he has laid out a plan, both in his
private letters and in the will to fence you forever out of this girl's
life. So your work must be done in secret. If I can ever effectively
help you, I must work on Andrew Fraser and not needlessly alarm both his
greed and fear. As soon as it is safe, you shall take up your post near
to her; but Hawke must come and go first. He must find no sign of
your presence here." There was cogency in the sentimental soldier's
reasoning.

"He will surely come to my Paris home at No. 9 Rue Berlioz. He knows
that address!" murmured Alixe Delavigne, her eyes dropping in a sudden
confusion, as a flame of jealousy lit up the you