Daughter of
the Sun and Light of the World desired aught. "I will then have two to
watch. The waiting woman has the eye of a tiger."

A personal verification of the fact that Jules Victor was encamped for
the night, en zouave, on a divan drawn before the only door joining the
boudoir and sleeping-room, caused the sly spy to greatly marvel, for the
scarred face of the French social rebel was ominously truculent, and a
pair of Lefacheux revolvers and a heavy knife lay within the ready reach
of this strange "outside guard."

In the dim watches of the first night in Delhi, the same barefooted
Hindu spy learned by a visit of furtive inspection, that a night light
steadily burned in the boudoir where Jules was toujours pret. The
sneaking rascal crept away, with a violently beating heart, fearing even
the rustle of his bare feet upon the mosaic floor.

And all this, and much more, did he deliver with abject humility to
Ram Lal Singh, when that worthy appeared the next day to crave his
mysterious patron's orders. It seemed a tough nut to crack, this
tripartite household arrangement.

The dawn found Madame Berthe Louison as alertly awake as bird and beast
stirring in the ruined splendors of old Shahjehanabad. Long before the
anxious Justine Delande arose to deck herself furtively for her tryst
with Alan Hawke, Berthe Louison knew that all her orders of the night
before were executed.

"You are sure that you can see perfectly, Jules?" said the anxious
woman.

"I command the whole side of the room where you will be seated," replied
the Frenchman, "and the ornaments and carved tracery cover the aperture.
Marie has tested it and I have also done the same, reversing our
positions. Nothing can be seen."

"Good! Remember! Nine o'clock sees you at your post! You are prepared?"
The woman's voice trembled.

"Thoroughly!" cried the alert servitor, "Only give me your signal! I
must make no mistake! There's no time to think in such cases!" He bent
his head, while his mistress, in a low voice gave her last orders. Jules
saluted, as if he were the leader of a forlorn hope.

"And now for the first skirmish!" mused Berthe Louison, as she
personally examined some matters, of more material interest to her, in
the reception-room.

The rearrangement of the furniture seemed to be satisfactory, and Madame
Berthe Louison composedly busied herself with the arrangement of a
writing case, and a few womanly articles upon the table which she h