"Ah! I fear that I must attend to him, alone!" sadly said Major Hardwicke, whose heart was racked, for a fair, dear face now afar must soon be clouded with sorrow and those dear eyes weep a father's shame.

"Call, day and night, for anything you want!" heartily said the loyal old father of the rescued officer. "The day before you go you must dine with us, alone, and Harriet will give you her last greeting."

As the day wore away, there was a jovial rapprochement in the special car where General Abercromby and Major Hawke were gayly extolling Madame Berthe Louison's perfections. "Mind you, General, I am no squire of dames," said the Major. "You must make your own running."

"Ah! my boy, you have earned your temporary rank as a Major of Staff, when you've introduced me. I flatter myself that I know women!" cried Abercromby as they cracked t'other bottle of Johnstone's champagne.

"Take me to her, and then, I'll take you to the Viceroy. I guarantee your rank!"

"It's a bargain!" cried the delighted Hawke. While Abercromby dreamed of the lovely lady of the Silver Bungalow, Major Alan Hawke leisurely examined a sheaf of letters from Europe which had been thrust in his pocket by Ram Lal at parting.

"Victory!" he cried, as he read a tender letter from Euphrosyne Delande, in which she promised her absolute compliance with his every wish.

"Justine has written to me herself," was the underscored hint that the three might join fortunes. "It's about time for that Madras boat to get to Brindisi," mused Hawke, as they ran into Allahabad, "There maybe telegrams here now." And, while General Abercromby jovially feasted, Hawke ran over to his secret haunt to which he had ordered Ram Lal to send any telegrams, for one day only, and then, the rest would be safe with Ram's secret agent in Calcutta. "My G.o.d! This is my fortune! Bravo, Justine!" cried Hawke, "True and quickwitted. I now hold Berthe Louison in my hand."

He read the words--"Andrew Fraser, St. Agnes' Road, St. Heliers, Jersey." The dispatch was headed Brindisi, and signed "Justine." "A man might do worse than marry a woman as true and keen as that," smiled Hawke. "I am a devil for luck!" And then he gayly drank Justine's health, in silence, when he joined the amorous Abercromby at the table.

But the "devil for luck" did not know of a little scene at Brindisi, where the blushing Nadine Johnstone hid her face in her friend's bosom.

"It is my life, my very existence, Justine!" she pleaded. "I will never forget you; we are both women, and my heart will break if you refuse!"

And thus Justine Delande had learned at last of Nadine's easy victory over the frank-hearted cousin's prudence.

"What's the wrong--to tell her?" he had mused, under the spell of the loving eyes. "We go straight through, and I am in charge till my father takes her out of my hands! Poor girl, it will be a grim enough life with him. Not a man will ever set eyes on her face without old Hugh's written order!" And it was thus that Justine was enabled to warn her own lover when she had slipped away and cabled by her mistress's orders to the young Lochinvar at Delhi:

"Captain Harry Hardwicke, Royal Engineers, Delhi: Letters for you at Andrew Fraser's, St Agnes Road, St. Heliers, Jersey. Come."

The Swiss woman shuddered as she boldly signed Nadine! And this same dispatch when received by the young officer, now busied with the Viceroy's mandate, brought the sunlight of Love back into his darkened soul! The minutes seemed to lengthen into hours until the special train was ready. At the risk of his military future, the Major gave to the faithful Simpson his London Club address. "If anything happens here, you must go to General Willoughby. Tell him what you want me to know.

He will send it on, and give you a five-pound note. Remember! Simpson, you'll die in my service if you stand true!"

"That I will, for your brave father's sake, and for the young lady's bright eyes! Bless her dear, sunny face! Tell her that I will work for her in life and death!" And when, in a few days the lengthened absence of Major Harry Hardwicke and Red Eric Murray was noted, the groups only conjectured a little junket to some near-by station, or a long shikaree trip. But Simpson and General Willoughby knew better. Simpson was a "lord" in these days, in the quarter, for Hardwicke had not left Delhi with a closed hand.

And old Hugh Johnstone, greatly relieved at heart, was now busied in secretly arranging for his own flitting. "I'll run down to Calcutta, see the Viceroy, give Abercromby a splendid dinner, and then slip off home, on the quiet, via Ceylon. I'll send Douglas back when I get to Jersey, and then I can put those jewels where no human being can ever trace them! Once that brother Andrew has my full orders as to Nadine, I will bar this she-devil forever from her side! On the excuse of a leisurely contemplated tour, I can have the rich Jew brokers of Amsterdam and Frankfort, with their agents in Cairo and Constantinople, divide up the jewels among the foreign crown-heads. I am then safe! safe! No human hand can ever touch me now," he gloated.

There was a clattering of aides-de-camp and great official bustle at the Government House in Calcutta when General Abercromby reported to the great statesman Viceroy, dwelling in the vast palace, builded by the Marquis of Wellesley.

General Abercromby, marveling at the abruptness of the Viceroy, was relieved to know that his "secret service" had been transferred to Major Hardwicke under the orders of Major-General Willoughby. His mind was intently occupied with the promised introduction to Madame Berthe Louison--"that little party"--and so he failed not to refer to the future value to the crown of Alan Hawke's services.

"He is here with me, Your Excellency!" respectfully said Abercromby, who had already posted off his leporello to call in due form at the banker's mansion, where the disguised Alixe Delavigne had taken refuge. "Send him to me at once, General. I need him! I will give him the local staff rank of Major and immediate employment. Willoughby has also written to me especially about his wonderful knowledge of our northern lines. Stay!

Bring him yourself, to-morrow, at ten o'clock."

"Splendid! Splendid!" cried the love-lorn General, rubbing his hands, as he hastened away in his carriage to meet Alan Hawke! "I am ready for him, if he is ready for me! I wish she were at some one of the great hotels instead of being buried in the silver-gray respectability of the Manager's family circle. But--but--I will take her to the Viceroy.

The bird shall then learn to test its wings. I will bring her out as a social star!"

Major Alan Hawke, with a beating heart, recounted to Madame Berthe Louison all the occurrences in Delhi, when they were left alone in the great banker's vast parlors. "She is a puzzle, this strange woman!"

mused Hawke, for a serene and stately triumph shone in her splendid eyes.

Berthe Louison listened to all! "You will get your staff appointment,"

she smiled, "and I will help you! Bring your friend General Abercromby to see me here to-morrow evening! I will be amiable to him, for your sake, and for the sake of my future interests!"

The grateful young man, now on the threshold of reinstatement, in a sudden impulse cried, "I can, now, give you Nadine Johnstone's hiding place! You can trust to me and I will prove it, now! It is--"

"With Andrew Fraser, retired Professor of Edinburgh University, historian and philologist, ethnologist, etc.; St. Agnes Road, St.

Heliers, Jersey," laughingly rejoined Berthe Louison.

"You are a--witch, woman! A wonder!" cried the astounded adventurer.

"Ah! You see that I have trusted you!" she smiled. "Now, do as I bid you, and you will rise in the service! Remember! You are to do just what I say! The bank here, or in Delhi, will give you always my directions.

Remember! I shall not lose sight of you for a moment, though near or far! And money and promotion will reward your good faith! Go now! my friend," she kindly said, extending her hand. "Bring the General, here, tomorrow evening, at eight! I will be busied till then! There is nothing for you to do now!"

The astonished schemer was in a maze as he dashed away to the Calcutta Club to meet General Abercromby. "She is a very devil and a mistress of the Black Art!" he mused. "I will stand by her," he admiringly cried, "as long as it pays me." It was the honest tribute of a grateful scoundrel's heart!

While the happy Abercromby dallied with Major Hawke over a claret cup, an official messenger sought him out, at the Club. "There, my boy! You see that I am a man of my word!" cried the would-be lover. Alan Hawke's lip trembled as he tore open an envelope directed to him and marked: "On Her Majesty's Service." The first in many years. The walls spun around before his eyes when he read his provisional appointment, with an order to report forthwith, to the Chief of Staff, for private instructions.

"Ah! I congratulate you, my boy!" heartily cried the happy General. "You are a very devil for luck! One toast to the Viceroy! I'll meet you here to-night!"

The happiest man in India sped away to his newly opened gate of Paradise Regained, while afar in the sweltering September sun, the gleam of rifles and red coats told of an armed escort on the train, bearing Major Hardwicke and Captain Eric Murray, on to Calcutta, with the swiftness of the wind. Neither of the officers for a moment quitted their compartment, and two chosen sergeants, revolver in hand, watched certain sealed packages lying beside them all there in plain view. Major Hardwicke's soul was now in his quest!

There was a gleam of romance in the great Viceroy's morning duties, while Major Hawke had hastened to the Chief of Staff's office.

Madame Berthe Louison, escorted by her guardian, the bank manager, had placed upon the Viceroy's table a little doc.u.ment which he studied with great care. "You are sure that there is no mistake?" the statesman said, gravely interrogating the banker. "I will guarantee it, Your Excellency, with its face value, fifty thousand pounds." answered the financier. It was the memorandum of a policy of a.s.surance for a sealed package, on the steamer Lord Roberts, sent by Hugh Fraser Johnstone to Prof. Andrew Fraser, St. Agnes Road, St. Heliers, Jersey and now half way to England.

"I will act, Madame, at once!" said the holder of a scepter by proxy.

"You are to guard this secret, both, upon your honor. Send the dispatch, as you have proposed. My official action is to follow this up. I will let the game go on in silence just a little longer. And now--" the Viceroy led the lady aside, whispering a few private words, which left her a proud and happy woman. "My special aid will call at your residence as soon as it is dark. The consular officials at Aden, Suez, Port Said, and Brindisi will all have orders regarding you. I am ashamed that the prudence needed in the official side of this affair prevents me socially honoring you as I would. The French Consul-General has given to me his official guaranty for you, which," he smiled, "was not needed. We shall meet again, and your conduct will not be forgotten."

Alixe Delavigne bowed with the grace of a queen and never lifted her eyes until her sober mentor had brought her to the shelter of his home.

Before they were seated at tiffin the wires bore away this dispatch, which astounded its recipient:

"CAP. ANSON ANSTRUTHER, JUNIOR UNITED SERVICE CLUB,

LONDON.

Meet me at Morley's Hotel, London. Will telegraph you from Brindisi.

Official dispatches to you explain.

BERTHE LOUISON."

When the stars lit up the broad Hooghly that night, a swift Peninsular and Oriental Liner drew away down the river, with a smart steam-launch towing at her companionway. The woman who said adieu to the Viceroy's aid and her grave-faced banker in her splendid rooms had read the brief words of Captain Anstruther, telling her that the electric Ariel was true to his trust. "All right. Both dispatches received. Welcome.

Anstruther." The official staterooms were a bower of floral beauty, and the gallant aid murmured: "I hope that nothing has been forgotten. The whole ship is at your disposal. The Commander has the Viceroy's personal orders. And, I was to give you the letter and this package!" When the banker had exchanged the last words of counsel and advice, he said: "Trust me! I know Hawke of old! We will let him go up the ladder of life a little, while the other fellow comes down!"

When the little steam-launch was a black blur on the blue waters, then Alixe Delavigne, standing alone at the rail, smiled as she saw the lean, straggling sh.o.r.es sweep by. "I fear that General Abercromby will deem me discourteous! But time, tide, and the P. and O. steamers wait for no elderly beau, however fascinating!"

It is a matter of local history in Calcutta that General Abercromby's remark: "Hawke! we have been a pair of d.a.m.ned fools! We are outwitted!"

found its way at last into the clubs, and the attack of jaundice, followed up by a severe gout, which "laid out" the sighing lover for long months, proves, as of old, that stern Mars cannot cope with the bright and all-compelling Venus! But Major Alan Hawke, of the Provisional Staff, hearkened wisely to the banker's words: "Don't be fool enough to think that you can trifle with Madame Louison's interests. The n.o.ble Viceroy has placed you on duty, at her own personal request, to give you a last chance to regain all the promise of your youth. One word from her, and--and you will be suspended or, dropped!

You will get your military orders from the Viceroy and her wishes from me."

Alan Hawke was paralyzed with astonishment the next day, when the Viceroy ordered him to proceed at once to Delhi, to report to General Willoughby, and to hasten to London, via Bombay, on completion of his secret service at Delhi."

"I am a devil for luck!" muttered Hawke. "But even the tide of Fortune can drive along too fast!" He had lost his head, and forgotten all his pigmy plans. A stronger hand than his own was secretly guiding his onward path, upward to the old status of the "British officer!" "What the devil do they want of me in London?" he mused.

And, chuckling over how easily he had made the lovesick Abercromby help him into his "military seat" once more, Alan Hawke betook himself forthwith to Delhi, to report to General Willoughby for instant service.

When he descended at Allahabad, his undress uniform of a major of the Staff Corps brought down on him a storm of congratulations from old friends gathered there. "Sly old boy you were!" the service men laughed, over their gla.s.ses, while wetting his new uniform. "A man must not tell all he knows!" patiently replied Major Hawke, with the sad, sweet smile of a man who had dropped into a good thing.