He laughed lightly as he said: "Keep this quiet. Pray do not allow
Miss Johnstone to walk any more in the dewy grass. These deadly
reptiles affect moisture, and, strange to say, they love the
vicinity of human habitations. As for 'Garibaldi,' good old fellow,
I'll bring him this afternoon, but I'll not take him again over
the gate. It was a pretty stiff jump for the old boy." When Simpson
escorted the happy Captain to the opened carriage gate, he threw
up his wrinkled hand in salute.
"You're your father's own son, Captain, and God bless you and good
luck to you and the young mistress."
There was no answer as Harry spurred the charger down the road, but
Simpson pocketed a sovereign, with the sage prophecy that things
were at last, going the right way.
The watchful Hugh Johnstone was already in waiting, on this very
morning, at the East Indian station in Calcutta, with a sumptuous
carriage; for a telegram had warned him that the woman whom he
dreaded, and had secretly doomed, was fast approaching. His heart
was resolutely set upon the master stroke of his life, for a private
audience with the Viceroy of India had been graciously granted him
at two o'clock. "I am saved--if nothing goes wrong," he murmured,
as the Delhi train trundled into the station.
A steely glare lit up his eyes as he advanced with raised sun helmet
to meet the Lady of the Silver Bungalow.
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