I was just
bound to meet you." And upon this frank declaration, Alan Hawke
kissed her firm white hand, agreeing to her plans, and the glow of
prosperity shone out upon his impassive face, as he glided away to
meet the strange woman whom he distrusted. "I hold the trump cards
now, my lady!" he cried, as he watched Miss Genie's handkerchief
fluttering on the quay. Major Alan Hawke wasted no time in his
three hours' voyage to Lausanne-Ouchy in carefully preparing for
his interview with Madame Berthe Louison. He abandoned the idea of
trying the "whip hand," remembering how suddenly he had descended
from the "high horse." "Bah! She is about as sentimental as a
rat-tail file. However, she is good for my passage to India, at
any rate, and, the nearer I am to old Johnstone and this pretty
heiress to be, the better my all-round chances are." So, he contented
himself with watching the pictured shores of Lake Leman glide by,
and wondering if he might not turn aside safely to the chase of the
bright-eyed, sharp-featured, Miss Genie Forbes. He had profited by
Phineas Forbes's frank disclosures, and yet the Madame Sans Gene
manners of the heiresses rather frightened him. He was aware from
the amatory failure in the dim old cathedral that Miss Genie was
armed cap-a-fie. "Those American girls, apparently so approachable,
are all ready to stand to arms at a moment's notice." And so, he
drifted back in his day dreams toward the Land of the Pagoda Tree,
with Ouchy and Chillon.
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