tyrant vanity! She was divorced
from you by a Royal Russian Decree, before she married the man whose
heart broke when she was laid in the tomb. She rests with the princes of
his line, and her tomb bears the name of wife!"

The old nabob crept nearer, growling:

"You shall never see the child's face!"

Then, Alixe Delavigne sprang up and faced him: "There she is! on my
heart! Just what her mother was, before you sent her to an early grave.
Valerie died hungering for one sight of that child's face!" Throwing
the picture of Nadine Johnstone on the table, the lady of Jitomir said:
"Pierre Troubetskoi left to me the wealth which makes me your equal. I
fear you not! I shall see Nadine to-morrow!"

"Never!" roared Hugh Johnstone, now beyond all control. "I defy you!
Beware how you approach my threshold!" His eyes were murderous in their
steely blue gleam, and, yet, he met a glance as steady as his own.

"Listen," said Berthe Louison, sinking back into her chair, "I will tell
you a little story." Hugh Johnstone was now gazing at the photograph,
which trembled in his hand. "Once upon a time a man secreted a vast
deposit of jewels, really the spoil of a deposed king, and, rightly, the
property of the victorious British Government!" The photograph fell to
the floor as the old man sprang up from the chair, into which he had
dropped. "This paper, the receipt for the deposit, once delivered to the
Viceroy of India--and the Baronetcy which is to be your life crown is
lost for ever." The old man's hands knotted themselves in anger. "The
lying story that the deposit was stolen by an underling will bring
you, Hugh Johnstone, to the felon's cell! You shall live to wear the
convict's chain! The Government is partly aware of the facts. It rests
for me to give the Viceroy the receipt for your private deposit. The
private bank vault in Calcutta has hidden your shame for twenty years.
You know the condition of your settlement with the Government. Now,
shall I see my sister's child? I hold your very existence here--in the
hollow of my hand!" The dauntless woman drew forth a yellowed envelope
from her breast. There was a smothered shriek, a crash and a groan, as
Jules Victor, springing from his concealment, hurled the infuriated man
to the floor!

With a knee on the panting nabob's breast, he hissed:

"Move, and you are a dead man!"

"Take the paper, Madame," calmly said the victorious Jules. Then Alixe
Delavigne laughed scornfully.