fear!"

"You shall never marry her," the old pedant cried. "You shall answer to
me for this whole dastardly outrage."

"All right," coolly said Hardwicke. "It's man to man, now. I will marry
your niece within a month, and, with your written permission!" And
not another single word would the disgusted Hardwicke utter--while old
Fraser clung to Alaric Hobbs, whining in his wrath. In an hour, a motley
cortege slowly left the door of the martello tower. Murray and Hardwicke
walking, armed, beside the carriage, where Mr. Jack Blunt, still bound,
was the sullen companion of the half-crazed Professor Fraser.

To the demands of "Joseph Smith's" friends Hardwicke replied: "He will
undoubtedly be released tomorrow by the proper authorities if there is a
mistake."

A smart groom was already half-way to St. Heliers, galloping on with
a sealed letter to General Wragge, the commander of the Channel Island
forces. "That will bring Anstruther over at once. He must act now!" said
Hardwicke. "In two days Ram Lal will be in irons at Delhi, and I think
that we will prepare a crushing little surprise for this defiant old
fool and miser, Professor Andrew Fraser." And Red Eric Murray now
inwardly rejoiced to see the end of all his masquerading as the
Moonshee. He received a parting salute, also. "You are no gentleman, a
vile swindler, sir," raved old Andrew, as Captain Murray allowed him to
descend and enter his own door. The "History of Thibet" fraud rankled in
old Fraser's mind.

But the "ex-Moonshee" only smiled and politely bowed, while "Prince
Djiddin" sternly marched with his prisoner, Jack Blunt, upstairs
and then locked the doors of his apartments. It was an "imperium in
imperio."

In the hall, he had turned and faced Andrew Fraser only to say: "I shall
await here, sir, the orders of the civil and military authorities; yes,
here, in my own room. The very moment that they take charge, I shall,
however, leave your roof. But not until then! And for your future
safety, I warn you to moderate your ignorant abuse."

There was no sleep in the house until the gray dawn at last straggled
through the mists of night. And the sound of outcry and excited alarm
long continued, for Professor Andrew Fraser and Janet Fairbarn were
excitedly wailing over the easily detected work of the burglar, in the
old pedant's study. The aged Scotsman ran up and down the hall, tearing
his hair and bemoaning his lost manuscripts and papers. For, he dared