"Bah! Secret Service has no rules, you know," said the man who knew
it all, thrusting his lips deeply into a brandy pawnee.
And so it was noted that Alan Hawke was a devilish pleasant fellow,
a rising man, and one who had certainly dropped into an extremely
good thing. The tide of Fortune was setting directly in favor
of the man who, pacing the floor upstairs, unavailingly tormented
himself with the subject of the missing jewels.
"If I could only get a hold on Hugh Johnstone!" mused the adventurer.
"Berthe Louison knows nothing of these old matters. She only seeks
to approach the child. And she will be here to watch me in a day or
so. Ram Lal, the old scoundrel! Does he know? If he did, he would
bleed the would-be Baronet on his own account. But he may not know
of the golden opportunity, and the old wretch always has many irons
himself in the fire. Hugh Fraser was a canny Scot in his youth.
Sir Hugh Johnstone is a horse of another color. If old Johnstone
has the jewels, why does he not yield them up? Perhaps he wants
the Baronetcy first, and then his memory may be strangely refreshed."
As the wanderer strode up and down the room like a restless wolf,
he returned in his memories to the strange intimacy of Hugh Fraser
and Ram Lal. "I have it!" he cried. "I will kill two birds with
one stone. My pretty 'employer' shall furnish the golden means to
loosen old Ram Lal's tongue.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120