have a little account of my own to settle with him! I will see him at
once! He, too, may slip away and follow his girl to the hills," quietly
said Ram Lal. "I know his past. He is never to be trusted--not for a
moment--as long as he is alive!" Alan Hawke stared in wonder at Ram Lal,
who humbly salaamed, when he closed:

"See the woman over there--come back, and tell me what I must do or say.
You and I are comrades," the jewel seller leeringly said, "and we must
lie together! All the world are liars-and half of the world lives by
lying." with which sage remark the old curio seller betook himself to
his narghileh.

In a half an hour, Major Alan Hawke was wandering through the garden of
the Silver Bungalow with Alixe Delavigne at his side. Behind them, at a
discreet distance, sauntered Jules Victor, his dark eyes most intently
fixed upon the promenaders. Madame Delavigne was pleased to be
cheerfully buoyant. She had silently listened to Hawke's recital of
the probable causes of General Abercromby's visit. "I could see that
Johnstone evidently wished to occupy us both at Allahabad. Your conduct
was discretion itself! Have you seen him yet? Or the ladies?" She eyed
her listener keenly.

"No, Madame," frankly said Hawke. "There is all manner of official
junketing on here now. I am not, of course, to be officially included,
as I am not on the staff of either the visiting or commanding general. I
must wait until I am invited--if I am!" he hesitatingly said. "You know
that my rank is--to say the least--shadowy!" The lady passed over this
semi-confession in silence.

"It is not like Johnstone to let Nadine meet all the gay coterie which
will fill the great halls," mused Madame Delavigne. "I suppose that the
dear child will have a week of 'marble prison' in her rooms, with only
the governess. I think I shall let General Abercrornby leave before I
call. What do you advise? Johnstone has always ignored the ladies of
Delhi!"

"I really am powerless to counsel you," said Major Hawke gravely, "as I
am outside of the circle. I would watch this man keenly. He bears you no
good will. And now--what shall I do? Did your business at Calcutta bring
me the summons to action?" There was no undue eagerness in his voice. He
was gliding into a safe position for the future eclaircissement.

"Not yet. But it will come! It will come--as soon as this General goes.
For I now will demand the right to drop Berthe Louison, and to be my own
self. T