in her interest, to Justine
Delande, may open the way to the girl's presence! The mother's story
may serve to win the girl's heart. If I can only busy old Hugh and the
Madame in watching each other, then I can handle Justine."

"Yes," the satisfied schemer concluded, "the old man's game is the
bauble title. Berthe Louison's must be some studied revenge. She is
above all blackmail. I know already half the story of this clouded past.
Madame Alixe Delavigne must yield up the other half, bit by bit. By the
time she arrives, my spies will have posted me. I will have opened my
parallels on the Swiss dragon who guards the lovely Nadine. Now to make
my first play upon the old nabob."

Major Alan Hawke had studied skillfully out his gambit for an attack
upon Hugh Johnstone's vanity. When he descended at the hospitable doors
of his secret ally, Ram Lal Singh, he plunged into the seclusion of a
luxurious easy toilet making. A dozen letters glanced over, a comforting
hookah, and Alan Hawke had easily "sized up" the situation. For Ram
Lal's first skeleton report had clearly proved to him that the coast
was clear. "Thank Heavens there are as yet no rivals," Hawke murmured.
"Neither confidential friend of the old boy, no dashing Ruy Gomez as
yet in the way." Hawke viewed himself complacently in the mirror. He
was severely just to himself, and he well knew all his own good points.
"Pshaw!" he murmured, "any man not one-eyed can easily play the Prince
Charming to a hooded lady all forlorn, a mere child, a tyro in life's
soft battles of the heart. I must impress this pompous old fool that I
know all the intrigues of his proposed elevation. He will unbosom, and
both trust and fear me. These pampered civilians are as haughty in their
way as the military and be damned to them," mused Hawke, cheerfully
humming his battle song, those words of a vitriolic wit:

"General Sir Arthur Victorious Jones, Great is vermillion splashed with
gold."

"This old crab has quietly stolen himself rich, and now forsooth would
tack on a Sir Hugh before his name. Ah! The jewels! I must delicately
hint to him that I am in the inner circle of the cognoscenti."

And then Alan Hawke cheerfully joined his obese and crafty friend and
host, Ram Lal Singh. For an hour the soft, oily voice of the old jewel
merchant flowed on in a purring monologue. The ease and mastery of the
Conqueror's language showed that the usurer had well studied the
masters of Delhi. Sixty y