nd night, for anything you want!" heartily said the loyal
old father of the rescued officer. "The day before you go you must dine
with us, alone, and Harriet will give you her last greeting."

As the day wore away, there was a jovial rapprochement in the special
car where General Abercromby and Major Hawke were gayly extolling Madame
Berthe Louison's perfections. "Mind you, General, I am no squire of
dames," said the Major. "You must make your own running."

"Ah! my boy, you have earned your temporary rank as a Major of Staff,
when you've introduced me. I flatter myself that I know women!" cried
Abercromby as they cracked t'other bottle of Johnstone's champagne.

"Take me to her, and then, I'll take you to the Viceroy. I guarantee
your rank!"

"It's a bargain!" cried the delighted Hawke. While Abercromby dreamed
of the lovely lady of the Silver Bungalow, Major Alan Hawke leisurely
examined a sheaf of letters from Europe which had been thrust in his
pocket by Ram Lal at parting.

"Victory!" he cried, as he read a tender letter from Euphrosyne Delande,
in which she promised her absolute compliance with his every wish.
"Justine has written to me herself," was the underscored hint that the
three might join fortunes. "It's about time for that Madras boat to
get to Brindisi," mused Hawke, as they ran into Allahabad, "There maybe
telegrams here now." And, while General Abercromby jovially feasted,
Hawke ran over to his secret haunt to which he had ordered Ram Lal to
send any telegrams, for one day only, and then, the rest would be safe
with Ram's secret agent in Calcutta. "My God! This is my fortune! Bravo,
Justine!" cried Hawke, "True and quickwitted. I now hold Berthe Louison
in my hand."

He read the words--"Andrew Fraser, St. Agnes' Road, St. Heliers,
Jersey." The dispatch was headed Brindisi, and signed "Justine." "A
man might do worse than marry a woman as true and keen as that," smiled
Hawke. "I am a devil for luck!" And then he gayly drank Justine's
health, in silence, when he joined the amorous Abercromby at the table.

But the "devil for luck" did not know of a little scene at Brindisi,
where the blushing Nadine Johnstone hid her face in her friend's bosom.
"It is my life, my very existence, Justine!" she pleaded. "I will never
forget you; we are both women, and my heart will break if you refuse!"
And thus Justine Delande had learned at last of Nadine's easy victory
over the frank-hearted cousin's prudence.