. office. I would
like you to know him."

"I did not know that you had any family connection here," replied the
Major with a start of innocent surprise.

"Only this boy," hastily replied the incipient baronet, "and my
daughter. She is, however, a mere child--a mere child. I have seen the
leaves of the family tree wither and drop off one by one." The host then
stiffly rose, and formally said, "Let us go in!"

"You are good for a score of years yet," jovially remarked Major Hawke,
as he gazed at the well-preserved outer man of his uneasy entertainer.
"The harpoon is deeply fixed in the old whale," mused Hawke, as he
followed Hugh Johnstone. "He begins to flounder now."

Conscious of the mental alarm which Hugh Johnstone could not altogether
conceal, Major Hawke had simply bowed, in his grand manner, when the
host presented his guest to Mademoiselle Delande. "I will let the old
beggar lead out," mused Hawke. "This royal spread is an excuse for any
amount of silence." And the Anglo-Indian renegade gazed admiringly at
the thousand and one adjuncts of a blended English comfort and Indian
luxury.

"Ever been in Geneva?" suddenly demanded Hugh Johnstone, with a glance
at his two companions.

"He's an uneasy old devil. He is trying to trap me now," thought Hawke,
who innocently replied: "Long years ago, when I was a mere lad. I'm told
the town has been vastly improved by the Duke of Brunswick's legacy.
I've not seen it in later years."

"Miss Delande is a Genevese," remarked the host.

"I congratulate you, Mademoiselle," politely said the Major. "It is a
famous city to date from."

It was evident that the spinster was held in reverent awe of her
employer, for she guarded a judicious silence, as with a formal bow
she at last left the table at the graciously permitting nod of Hugh
Johnstone. There was a cold and brooding restraint, which had seemed to
cast a chill even over the sultry Indian midday, but Justine's smile
was bright and winning as she faintly acknowledged with a blushing cheek
Major Hawke's gallantry as he sprang up and opened the door for the
retiring lady. "She will come, she will come," gayly throbbed the
Major's happy heart.

Alan Hawke was now thoroughly on his guard. He had never lifted an
eyebrow at the mention of Miss Johnstone. He had dropped Justine
Delande like a plummet into the lake of forgetfulness, and watched Hugh
Johnstone's listless trifling with the dainties of the superb collation.
T