raduated together from the
gutters of Montmartre into the later control of Madame Louison's pretty
little pied d' terre in Paris, hard by Auteuil, in that dreamy
little impasse, the Rue de Berlioz. Neither of these attendants were
faint-hearted, for their young hearts had been attuned early to the
wolfish precocity of the Parisian waif. And they had followed their
resolute mistress in her weary quest of the past years.

Berthe Louison smiled in a comforting sense of security, as she gazed
listlessly out upon the landscape flying by.

The two servants, modestly voyaging out to Calcutta, on a telegraphic
summons, to embark at Marseilles, had preceded the Empress of India by
ten days. So, neither friendless, nor without untiring devotion, was
the wary woman who had thus secretly armed herself against any "little
mistake" on the part of Major Alan Hawke. Certain private instructions
to the manager of Grindlay & Co., at Calcutta, had caused that
respectable party to open his eyes in wonder.

"Of course, Madame, our local agent at Delhi will act in your behalf,
with both secrecy and discretion. I have already written him a private
cipher letter in regard to your every wish being fulfilled."

Such is the potent influence of a letter of credit, practically
approaching the "unlimited."

"If I could only use Jules in the double capacity of gentleman and
factotum, I would dress him up a la mode and let him approach Hugh
Johnstone," mused the beautiful tourist, but I must be content to use
this cold-hearted adventurer Hawke, for he has at least a surface rank
of gentleman, and, moreover, he knows my enemy! I must keep Jules and
Marie every moment at my side, for some strange things happen in India
by day as well as by night. Sir Hugh may dream of some 'unusually
distressing accident' as a means of safely ridding himself of a long
slumbering specter."

"Of course, this sly jeweler is Alan Hawke's spy! A few guineas extra,
however, may buy his 'inner consciousness' for me," she mused. And so it
fell out that Ram Lal Singh was destined to drop into the secret
service of both Hawke and the fair invader! And, as yet, neither of his
intending employers could divine the dark purposes of the oily rascal
who had stealthily watched Hugh Fraser for long years to slake the
hungry vengeance of a despoiled traitor to the last King of Oude.

Major Hawke found the tete e tete dinner with Hugh Johnstone a mere dull
social parade. There was