Stranger still, the star-eyed
Madame Berthe Louison had never accompanied the young heiress in
the regular afternoon parade en voiture. "There's a mystery here,"
mused the lover. "Old Hugh and the Major appear daily with the
Frenchwoman, but Nadine Johnstone has never been seen alone with
anyone save her father, or this Swiss duenna. Hawke is making slow
progress there, if any." Meeting old Simpson, the nabob's butler,
Captain Hardwicke tipped him with a five-pound note. The old retired
soldier grinned and opened his confidence.
"The Major! Bless your stars!" gabbled Simpson, "She's a straightaway
angel, and not for the likes of him! Major Hawke has a dark spot
or two in his record--away back!" grumbled Simpson, "No, Captain!
Major Hawke has never set eyes on her for a single moment, but the
one night of that dinner. By the way, it is the only one we ever
gave!" The butler swelled up proudly.
"That night she never lifted her eyes, nor spoke even a word to
him. He comes to see the Guv'nor on business, an' mighty private
business it is. They're locked up together often."
"And, this marrying? The stories are now told everywhere?" queried
Hardwicke, blushing, but desperately remembering that "all is fair
in love and war." He, an incipient Major, a V. C.--"pumping" an
old private soldier.
"Rank rot!" frankly said the butler, "They're all strangers. The
French countess is only sight-seeing here and buying out old Ram
Lal's shop.
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