"
It was the renegade's last verdict as he slept the sleep of the
prosperous. The Willoughby dinner and his own feast now occupied
his attention, for his mysterious employer had bade him to eat,
drink, and be merry.
At ten o'clock the next day the "gilded youth" of the Delhi Club
all knew that Hugh Johnstone had betaken himself to the Silver
Bungalow, in the carriage of the woman whose beauty was now an
accepted fact. Hugely delighted, these ungodly youth winked in
merry surmises as to the relationship between the budding Baronet
and the hidden Venus. Even bets as to discreetly "distant
relationship," or a forthcoming crop of late orange blossoms were
the order of the day. But silent among the merry throng, the handsome
Major, making his due call of ceremony upon General Willoughby,
denied all knowledge of the designs of either of the high contracting
parties.
In due state, escorted by the alert Jules Victor, Hugh Johnstone
entered the Silver Bungalow, to find his Cassandra silently awaiting
him. There was no memory of the happenings of the day before in
her unconstrained greeting. The door of the strategic cabinet was
ajar, but the tottering visitor had no fears of an ambush. For
Madame Alixe Delavigne calmly said: "Jules, you may remain within
call, in the hall."
The old nabob's heart leaped up in a welcome relief at this command.
His wrinkled face was of the hue of yellowed ivory, and his cold
blue eyes were weak and watery, as he heavily lurched into a chair
facing his hostess.
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