traitors!

"Two years later, I learned from a fellow refugee that Pierre
Troubetskoi had been killed by accident in a great forest battle. And to
Alixe Delavigne, all the wealth which would have been Valerie's was
left by the lion-hearted man who awoke too late to the early doom of his
beloved.

"I knew naught of the family history save that the sisters were the
daughters of Colonel Delavigne, a gallant French officer, who was
murdered by the Communists in seventy-one." Alan Hawke was now sternly
eyeing the musician, who abruptly concluded: "I have never met Alixe
Delavigne since. I dare not return to Poland. My own course has been
steadily downward, and, beyond knowing that she still possesses the
splendid domains of Jitomir, we are strangers to each other. Polish
refugees have told me that she has always administered the vast estate
with liberal kindness to all. And now you will tell me of her?" The
tremulous hand of Wieniawski raised a brimming glass of brandy to his
lips. He stared about vacantly when Hawke said:

"Madame Delavigne left Lausanne this evening on a special mission. Her
life is a sealed book to all, and a mere business interest has drawn
us together." The Englishman went callously on: "There are a couple of
mountainously rich American girls coming down here to-morrow at nine
o'clock to spend the day at Chillon with me. I need a running mate. Will
you then meet me at the Montreux Landing? You can have a day off, and
these young fools are fat pigeons, ardent, and enthusiastic." Hawke saw
the hesitation on the man's face.

"You can say to Madame Frangipanni that you are with me and that I will
explain later at the dinner." With a glance at his watch, Alan Hawke
rang for the Oberkellner. He was extending his hand in goodnight, when
the refugee cried imploringly, "I must see her once more! Tell me of her
journey!" and Major Hawke deliberately lied to the poor vaurien artist,
the wreck of his better self. "The through train to Paris is her only
address. I presume that Madame Delavigne will spend some time in a
sanitarium after this heart attack, and she has my banker's address. It
is only through them that we meet to arrange some affairs of business.
Whether maid, wife, or widow, I know not, for you know what women
are--sealed books to their enemies, and to their husbands and
lovers--only enigmas!

"But fail not to meet me. I'll give you a pleasant day. You will find
the two Americans both gushing and