with the knowledge that one of Ram's men had already glided into the
swarming household entourage of Hugh Johnstone's stately home, and the
spy was on every movement of the strange interior, which defied the
Delhi beaux.

"Not a bad day's work," mused Hawke, as he dined in solitary state. The
hospitable bidding of the wealthiest civilian of Delhi to tiffin on the
morrow brought him in touch with Alixe Delavigne's proposed victim once
more. The delighted rascal mused: "I will surely have letters from her
to-morrow, possibly even a telegram of her arrival. When the silly Swiss
woman is the partner of an innocent secret, she is mine to control! Then
the chase for a few lacs of rupees begins!"

Major Hawke was somewhat startled at the little avalanche of welcoming
cards and notes. "Bravo! this will throw old Hugh off the track a bit
also. The simple duty of piquing local curiosity shall open all hearts,
hearths, and homes to me!" And then, Alan Hawke joyously realized how
easily the light-headed world can be fooled to the top of its bent by
the hollow trick of a bit of mystery play.

"This falls out rightly," he mused. "I will take up all the threads of
my old society life and Madame Berthe Louison may deign to confide a bit
in me the first half of the story forced from her, then I will guess out
all the missing links of the chain. Once domiciled here, she is
helpless in my hands, for I can either gain her inner secrets, or boldly
checkmate her. And the veiled Rose of Delhi?"

Alan Hawke dreamed not of the sorrows of the restless heart beating
in that virginal bosom. He paced the veranda of the Club gravely
preoccupied till the midnight hour. Long before that, Justine Delande
had sought her rooms in a feeble flutter of excitement over the harmless
assignation of the morrow. There was a stern old man pacing his splendid
hall alone, with an unhappy heart, that night, for Hugh Johnstone
saw again in the sweet uplifted eyes of his beautiful child the old
unanswered question!

He stood long gazing out upon the unpitying stars, while above him,
lonely and lovely, Nadine recked not the queenly splendor of her
magnificent apartment. Glittering wealth, splendid train of servants,
the golden future stretching out before her, all this she noted not,
for, even in the gray, colorless life of the pension school at Geneva,
soft-eyed Hope whispered to her of a gentle and gracious mother!
Loved--gone before, but not lost--and, here in