He did
not note the passage of time. He could now hear the music floating
up from the Casino below. He had answered all her many questions.
He described pithily the voyage out, the social pitfalls, the
essence of "good Anglo-Indian form," and he was astonished at the
keenness of the questions with which he was plied by his employer.
"You have surely traveled in India," he murmured, when his relation
flagged.
"So I have, by proxy, and, in imagination," laughed Madame Berthe
Louison, as she demurely held up her jeweled watch. "Ten minutes
more, and then, Sir, I shall give you your ordre de route. For,
I must go quietly. I trust to your experience and good judgment.
There is nothing to say here. There will be no letters. My bankers
have their orders. You must simply pay our bill, and depart quietly
via Geneva. May I ask if you wish any more money? Some personal
needs?"
Major Hawke shook his head. "You may rely on me to meet you, and to
faithfully obey you," he gravely said. There were unspoken words
trembling on his lips, which he fain would have uttered. "By
Heavens! She is a witch!" he murmured, in a repressed excitement,
as he walked quietly down the hallway to keep his tryst with Casimir
Wieniawski. For Berthe Louison had at once divined the cause of
his unrest.
"You think that I should tell you more? Why should I tell you
anything? We are strangers yet, not even friends.
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