e curt
answers to our reports, with liberal payment, we know no more now than
when the prattling child of four was brought to us.

"She has no childish memories of her own. I have overheard all the
unhappy scenes of the last month. There are the tearful prayers of
Nadine, then the old man's harsh threats, and then only his cold
avoidance follows. Strange to say--gentle and warm-hearted, formed
for love, and yearning to know of the dear mother whom she has fondly
pictured in her dreams, Nadine Johnstone has all the courage of a
soldier's daughter, and her fearless bravery of soul is as inflexible
as steel. She returns frankly to the contest, and his only refuge is the
wall of cold silence that he has built up between them!"

"Has he tried to punish her in any way--to intimidate her?" eagerly
cried the Major.

"Not yet," answered Justine. "She tells me all, and he knows it. I can
see that his eyes are fixed on me now with a growing hatred. He fears
that I uphold her in this duel of words, of answerless questions.

"He has threatened her roughly with sending her away to some place, to
'come to her senses,' alone, and--" the frightened woman said, "That
is what I fear--some sudden, rough brutality. He despairs of making her
love him. If she were suddenly removed--and I cast adrift on the world,
alone, here, he would, I suppose, send me back to Switzerland. He can
do no less, but I would lose her forever from my sight. I know that
he hates me, and we have always hoped that he would make us a handsome
present, on her marriage. Euphrosyne and I have been as mothers to her."
There were tears in the woman's anxious eyes now. She was startled as
Hawke bounded to his feet.

"By God!" he cried, forgetting himself. "That's just his little game!
It must never be! See here, Justine! I have reason to think that you are
right. He may try to spirit her away and separate her forever from you
and Euphrosyne. He would cut off the only two friends who could connect
her with this strange past. Yes, that's his little game! And--" he
slowly concluded, controlling himself, "I have reason to think he may
go about it at once. He is afraid of me, also, about some old official
business. Now, I will watch over your interests. The least this old
miser can do is to give you a neat little home in Geneva, as a final
recompense."

Justine Delande's eyes sparkled in gratitude. The acute Major had easily
learned from the garrulous Francois that the "