"Right smart girls, and you bet they can take care of themselves,"
was the last encomium of their self-denying parent which rang in
Alan Hawke's ears as he wandered away into the Land of Nod.
"They are a queer lot," laughed the happy schemer, as he woke next
day to his closing labors at Geneva. "Now, for my check cashing,
then, Monsieur Francois, a farewell visit to Miss Euphrosyne, and
a secret council with the fair Genie," He merrily breakfasted, and
was more than rewarded for his Mephistophelian entertainment of
Francois. The sly Figaro "parted freely," and when he slunk back
to the "Institute" he was the richer by fifty francs. Major Hawke
was the happy possessor of the coveted photographs, and a private
address of Francois, artfully informing that person that he was going
to London, and on his return, in a few months, desired a cicerone
in the hypocritically placid town. Francois's eyes gleamed in a
happy anticipation of more Cognac and many easily earned francs.
"Now, Madame Berthe, I think I have the key of the enigma! I see
a year's assured comfort before me, for I can play the part of the
Saxon troops at Leipzig," the schemer joyously ruminated.
His farewell to Miss Delande impressed that thrifty dame with
the golden fortunes which had descended upon her sister. "Should
you return to India, Major," she sibillated, "I will give you
a confidential letter to Justine, for I know there is no one more
fitted to remain in charge of sweet Nadine than my dear sister!"
The Major blushingly accepted the honor, and directed the letter to
be sent at once to Morley's Hotel, for, as he mysteriously whispered,
"The Foreign office may send me back to India--in fact, I may be
telegraphed for at any moment, and your sister will surely find a
fast friend in me.
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