Yes. There was the gleam of white robes shining out across the friendly gate.

Standing under a huge spreading camphor tree, a graceful form was there, clear cut against the dark foliage, and seeming to float upon the tender green of the dewy gra.s.s. A nymph--a G.o.ddess, shyly standing there, was shading her eyes with one slender hand and gazing down the path toward the golden East which was bringing to the Lady of his dreams, a flood of golden sunlight and her secret adorer, the man whose lonely young heart had throned her as its queen. Hardwicke raised his head quickly as a wild shriek sounded out upon the still morning air.

The lover with one agonized glance saw the outspread arms of Justine Delande, and heard again a voice which had thrilled his soul in loving memory. It appealed for aid. Nadine was shrieking for help.

With one glance, the young soldier gathered his n.o.ble steed. There was but twenty yards for the rally and the raise, but the game old "Garibaldi" dropped as lightly on the other side of the closed carriage gate as any "blue ribbon" of the Galway "Blazers."

There was a moment, but one fleeting moment, given to the lover to see the danger menacing the woman whom he loved. His heart was icy, but his hand was quick. There, a few feet only from the horribly fascinated girl, a cobra di capdlo rising and swaying in angry undulations.

The huge snake was angrily hissing with a huge distended puffed hood swelling menacingly over the dirty brown body. "Standfast!" yelled Hardwicke in agony.

There was a gleam of steel, the rush of a charger's feet, and as man and horse swept by the fainting girl--the swing of a saber, and the heavy trampling of iron-clad hoofs! Only Justine Delande saw the flashing saber cleaving the air again and again, as Hardwicke gracefully leaned to his saddle bow, in the right and left cut on the ground. And Garibaldi's beating hoofs soon completed the work of the circling sword.

And then as the Swiss woman broke her trance and turned to run toward the house, the young horseman leaped lightly to the ground. "Go on, go on!" he cried. "The other snake is not far off!" When Simpson and the frightened domestics rushed out to the veranda in a panic, they only saw before them a graceful youth with his strong arms burdened with the senseless form of the woman he loved--the woman whose life he had saved!

And, dangling from his right wrist, by the leather sword-knot, hung the saber which Colonel Hardwicke had swung in the mad onslaught on the mutineers' camp at Lucknow.

"Here, Simpson! Send for Doctor McMorris!" cried Hardwicke, as a dozen willing hands sprang to aid him. "Bring brandy, ammonia, and oil!" There was a bamboo settee on the veranda. It received the precious burden which the soldier had held against his heart. "Carry her to her rooms!

Gently, now!" commanded the captain. Seizing Justine by the arm, he said: "I think that I arrived in time. Go! Go! You will find me waiting for you here! Examine her at once! The hot iron and artery ligatures alone will save her if she was bitten!" His brow was knotted in agony.

"You came between them!" gasped Justine. "The thing never reached her side!"

"G.o.d be thanked! Go! Go!" cried Hardwicke. "I have my work to do here!"

A black servant had already led the dancing Garibaldi out to the open safety of the graveled carriage drive. "Look to my horse!" cried Hardwicke. "See that he is not bitten!" and then he slowly walked over to where a dozen menials, with heavy clubs, had beaten the writhing cobra into a shapeless ma.s.s.

"Come away, all of you!" cried the captain, in Hindustanee. "Run, some of you, and get the snake catcher!" Doctor McMorris, arriving on the gallop, had reported the absolute safety of the frightened girl, when Harry Hardwicke, leaning on his sheathed sword, watched a slim, glittering-eyed Hindu, followed by a boy bearing an earthen pot, who had noiselessly reconnoitered the vicinity of the great tree. The boy most keenly watched all the movements of his white-robed master, who, drawing a little fife from his red c.u.mmerbund sash, began to play a shrill, weird tune. A frightened household coterie watched from a safe distance the thirty-foot circle of herbage around the shade of the giant tree trunk. A shudder crept over the watchers as a huge brown head, with two white circles on the back of the neck, rose slowly out of the gra.s.s, and two red-hot gleaming eyes blazed out, as an immense cobra swelled out its fearfully disgusting hood, and, rising halfway, bloated out its loathsome head, swaying to and fro, to the strange music. "There's the mate!" quietly whispered Hardwicke to Simpson. The snake now showed its greasy belly, like dirty stained marble, and the lithe boy, circling behind it, warily essayed to drop the red earthen pot over its head.

But one of the excited servants, stealing up, had released a little mongoose, which now bravely darted upon its deadly enemy.

Seven times did the active little animal dart upon the huge reptile, in a confusedly vicious series of attacks and close in a deadly conflict, and, when, at last, the snake charmer walked disgustedly away, the little ferret's sharp teeth were transfixed in the throat of its dead enemy.

A handful of silver to the snake catcher and his boy sent them away delighted, while the wounded mongoose, having greedily sucked the blood of the dead cobra, wandered away in triumph, creeping on its belly into the rank gra.s.s in search of the life-saving herb which it alone can find, to cure the venom-inflamed wounds of the deadly "naja." The silent duel was over, and the bodies of the dreadful vipers were hastily buried.

"I shall call this afternoon, at five, to ask Miss Johnstone if she has entirely recovered," gravely said Captain Hardwicke to Mademoiselle Justine Delande, when the still excited Swiss woman poured forth her congratulations to the young hero of this morning's episode. Hardwicke was standing with his gloved hand grasping the mettlesome "Garibaldi's"

bridle. Justine Delande threw her arms around the neck of the n.o.ble horse and kissed his sleek brown cheek. Then she whispered a few words to Captain Hardwicke, which made that young warrior's heart leap up in a wild joy.

He laughed lightly as he said: "Keep this quiet. Pray do not allow Miss Johnstone to walk any more in the dewy gra.s.s. These deadly reptiles affect moisture, and, strange to say, they love the vicinity of human habitations. As for 'Garibaldi,' good old fellow, I'll bring him this afternoon, but I'll not take him again over the gate. It was a pretty stiff jump for the old boy." When Simpson escorted the happy Captain to the opened carriage gate, he threw up his wrinkled hand in salute.

"You're your father's own son, Captain, and G.o.d bless you and good luck to you and the young mistress."

There was no answer as Harry spurred the charger down the road, but Simpson pocketed a sovereign, with the sage prophecy that things were at last, going the right way.

The watchful Hugh Johnstone was already in waiting, on this very morning, at the East Indian station in Calcutta, with a sumptuous carriage; for a telegram had warned him that the woman whom he dreaded, and had secretly doomed, was fast approaching. His heart was resolutely set upon the master stroke of his life, for a private audience with the Viceroy of India had been graciously granted him at two o'clock. "I am saved--if nothing goes wrong," he murmured, as the Delhi train trundled into the station.

A steely glare lit up his eyes as he advanced with raised sun helmet to meet the Lady of the Silver Bungalow.

In the train were one or two of the curious Delhi quid nuncs, who smiled and exchanged glances as the embryo Sir Hugh led the lady to the carriage.

On the box Jules Victor sat bolt upright clasping a traveling bag, while Marie gazed at the swarming streets of Calcutta from her mistress's side. "She is on the defensive. I'll show her a trick," old Hugh murmured, as he noted the servants' presence.

A few murmured words exchanged between the secret foes caused Hugh Johnstone to sternly cry, "To Grindlay and Company's Bank."

The dark G.o.ddess Kali, patron demon of Kali Ghatta, was hovering above them in the pestilential air as the carriage swiftly rolled along the superb streets of the metropolis born of Governor Charnock's settlement in sixteen eighty-six. The gift of an Emperor of Delhi to the ambitious English, Fort William had grown to be an octopus of modern splendor.

Down the circular road, past the splendid Government House, they silently sped through the "City of Palaces." Berthe Louison never noted the varied delights of the Maiden Esplanade, nor, even with a glance honored Wellesley and Ochterlony, raised up there in marble effigy.

Her face was as fixed as bronze, while Hugh Johnstone, right and left, saluted his countless friends.

Men of the Bengal Asiatic, the Bethune, the Dai-housie, plumed generals, native princelings, gay aides-de-camp, grave judges, and university Dons eagerly bowed to the richest civilian in Bengal--the homage of triumphant wealth.

Stared at from club windows, Johnstone, with proudly erect head, nodded to fashion's fools, crowding there all eager to catch a glimpse of the lovely Lady Johnstone in posse.

For these last days of waiting had been only a mental torture to the nabob a.s.sailed by rallying gossipers. He was now counting grimly the moments till a telegram from Delhi should seal his safety for life. And then, his dark and silent revenge!

At Grindlay's Bank, Madame Louison quietly descended, leaning on the arm of Hugh Johnstone. There was hurrying to and fro on their appearance, and in ten minutes a second carriage received the disguised Alixe Delavigne, while the Manager of Grindlay's escorted her, under the eyes of her two guardians. The Golden Calf was the reigning G.o.d, even in these later days.

With a dignified pace, the carriage of Hugh Johnstone led the way to the Bank of Bengal, where a private room soon hid the three princ.i.p.al parties from the gaze of the multi-colored throng of clerks and accountants. A conference of the gravest nature ensued, as both the Bank Managers jealously watched each other.

Hugh Johnstone was as pale as a man wrestling with the dark angel when Madame Louison produced a faded doc.u.ment and a receipt of extended legal verbiage. The Manager of Grindlay's gazed, in mute surprise, when the highest dignitary of the Bengal Bank at last entered the room, followed by two porters bearing two bra.s.s-bound mahogany boxes of antique manufacture. Hugh Fraser Johnstone's stony face was carelessly impa.s.sive.

"Pray examine these seals!" the newcomer said, "and, remember, Mr.

Johnstone, that we exact your absolute release for the long-continued responsibility. Here is a memorandum of the storage and charges. You must sign, also, as Hugh Fraser--now Hugh Fraser Johnstone."

Old Hugh Johnstone's voice never trembled, as he said, after a minute inspection:

"I will give you a cheque." Then, dashing off his signature upon the receipt tendered by Madame Louison, he calmly said: "These things are only of a trifling value--some long-treasured trinkets of my dead wife's. May I be left alone for a moment?"

The three silent witnesses retired into an adjoining room. In five minutes, Hugh Johnstone called the Bank Governor to his side. "There is your receipt, duly signed, and your cheque to balance, Mr. Governor. We are now both relieved of a tiresome controversy. Will you please bring in the others?"

With a pleasant smile, the flush of a great happiness upon his face, Hugh Fraser Johnstone remarked: "I desire to state publicly that Madame Louison and my self have, in this little transaction, closed all our affairs. I have given to her a quit-claim release of all and every demand whatsoever." With kindly eyes, Berthe Louison listened to a few murmured words from Hugh Johnstone. Bowing her stately head, she swept from the room upon the arm of the polite manager of Grindlay's.

"Home," said the genial banker, as he deferentially questioned the Lady of the Silver Bungalow. "Do you honor us with a long visit?" he eagerly asked.

"I return to-morrow evening, on the same train with the soon-to-be Sir Hugh. I only came here to attend to some business at the French Consulate and to adjust this trifling matter." Hugh Johnstone writhed in rage, as he saw the cool way in which Berthe Louison fortified her safety lines.

Before they were in the shelter of the banker's superb mansion, Hugh Johnstone was double locked within the walls of Douglas Fraser's apartment.

"I have two hours to work in" he gasped, after a nervous examination of the contents of the cases which had been placed at his feet in his carriage. "And, then, for the Viceroy! But first to the steamer and the Insurance Office!'"

Not a human being in Calcutta ever knew the contents of the small steel strongbox which occupied the place of honor in the treasure room of the Empress of India on her speeding down the Hooghly. But a Director of the Anglo-Indian a.s.surance Company opened his eyes widely when Hugh Johnstone, his fellow director, cheerfully paid the marine insurance fees on a policy of fifty thousand pounds sterling. "I am sending some of my securities home, Mainwaring," the great financier said. "I intend to remove my property, bit by bit, to London. I do not dare to trust them on one ship." The director sighed in a hopeless envy of his millionaire friend.

Hugh Johnstone's Calcutta agent was also solemnly stirred up when his princ.i.p.al gave him some private directions as to the custody of his private papers and a substantial Gladstone bag, consigned to the recesses of the steel vaults. "I go back with these papers to Delhi to-morrow night. Give me the keys of my private compartment till then.

In a few months I may be called to London. Douglas Fraser will have my power of attorney."

With a sunny gleam in his face, Hugh Johnstone then alertly sprang into his carriage, when he had finished his careful toilet, to meet the Viceroy of India. The two bra.s.s-bound mahogany cases were left standing carelessly open upon his table in Douglas Fraser's rooms, neatly packed with an a.s.sortment of toilet articles and all the mult.i.tudinous personal medical stores of a refined Anglo-Indian "in the sere and yellow."

"Five pounds worth!" laughed Hugh Johnstone, as he closed the door.

"Now, in one hour, my Lady Disdain, I can say 'Checkmate.' Ram Lal shall attend to you later--behind all your bolts and bars. He will find a way to reach you."

It was a matter of profound speculation to the gilded youth of the Government House what strangely sudden friendship had blossomed to bring the august representative of the great Victoria, Kaisar-I-Hind, and Queen of England, as far as the middle of the audience room, in close colloquy with, and manifesting an almost affectionate leave-taking of, the silver-haired millionaire of Delhi.

But that night the most confidential General "at disposal" received from the Viceroy some secret orders which caused the experienced soldier's eyes to open widely.