ke to safely market the half of the
jewels which he had extorted from Ram Lal Singh. In a waist belt, he
wore a thousand pounds of Banque of France notes neatly concealed. Jack
Blunt and Garcia had earned an extra bonus of a hundred pounds each in
the jewel sale, and Alan Hawke laughed, as he laid away four thousand
pounds in his safely deposited luggage, in the railway office. "I can
trust to the French Republic--one and indivisible," he said, as he sent
a loving letter to Justine Delande, and then mailed her the receipt
for his valuable package, with his last wishes, "in case of accident."
"These fellows might kill me for this, if they knew of it!" he growled.

Three days later, the stanch Hirondelle was beating up and down
Granville Bay, while Alan Hawke awaited the letter of the faithful
Mattie Jones. He had furnished the twenty-pound note which made that
natty damsel doubly anxious to meet her faithful lover "Joseph Smith,"
to whom she now dispatched the news of the immediate return of the
anxious Professor. Fraser was burning to take up the gathering of
Thibetan pearls of hidden knowledge, while the artful and restless
Professor Alaric Hobbs was stealthily waiting Prince Djiddin's
departure, but kept busied with some personal tidal and magnetic
observations on Rozel Head. In the deserted second floor of an old
martello tower, he had made a lair for his evening star and planetory
researches, and the ingenious Yankee concealed a rope ladder in the
clinging ivy which enabled him to cut off all intrusion on his eyrie.

CHAPTER XV. THE FRENCH FISHER BOAT, "HIRONDELLE."

It was four o'clock of a wild November afternoon when Major Alan
Hawke, cowering in a hooded Irish frieze ulster, crawled deeper into a
cave-like recess in the little path leading from the Jersey Arms up to
Rozel Head. The blinding rain was thrown in wild gusts by the howling
winds, now lashing the green channel to a roughened foam. A sudden and
terrific storm was coming on.

Half an hour before the disguised adventurer could see the ominous
double storm signals flying in warning on the scattered coast guard
stations, a signal of danger sent on from the Corbieres Lighthouse. But
now not a single sail was to be seen, and huge banks of heavy blackening
mists were rolling over the stormy channel. Not a stray sail was in
sight!

"Where in hell is Jack?" raged the excited conspirator, swallowing half
the contents of his brandy flask. As he ret