"
"See here, Hawke! Come in to-morrow and dine with me at seven. I
want to have a long talk with you," said the uneasy host.
"You may absolutely depend on me, Sir Hugh," heartily answered the
visitor, with a fine forgetfulness as to the title. When he rode
away, Major Hawke caught sight of a womanly figure at a window above
him, watching his retreat in due state, and there was the flutter
of a handkerchief as his carriage drove around the oval. "I wonder
if Ram Lal knows about the jewels. I must buy him out and out,
or make Berthe Louison do it unconsciously for me," so mused the
victorious renegade. "He is afraid of me! Now to dispatch Ram Lal
to Allahabad. I must only see Berthe Louison, at night, in her own
bungalow, for my shy old bird would take the alarm were we seen
together. What the devil is her game? I know mine, and I swear
that I will soon know hers. I have him guessing now. I must hunt
up Hardwicke and call on old Willoughby to keep up the dumb show.
Johnstone may watch me--very likely he will. He is afraid of some
coup de theatre." He drove in a leisurely way back to the Club and
sported the oak after giving Ram Lal his last orders.
"I think I hear the jingle of gold 'in the near future,' as the
Yankees say; and, Miss Justine, you shall open the way to the veiled
Rose of Delhi for me, while Berthe Louison tortures this old vetch.
Place aux dames! Place aux dames!" he laughed.
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