A scrap of paper
in penciled words brought to him "Confirmation stronger than Holy
Writ." "I will write or telegraph when not watched. Do not forget.
--Nadine."
The words of the old servitor returned to the soldier in a grim
warning. "He is capable of anything."
"So am I," cried Harry as his heart leaped up. "I will find her were
she at the North Pole. He cannot hide her from me. Love laughs at
locksmiths!"
If the would-be Sir Hugh Johnstone had heard the three verdicts of
the hostile critics of his being "capable of anything," he might
have laughed in defiance, but after several friendly "night caps"
with the slightly jovial General Abercromby, it might have seriously
disturbed the host to know what hidden suspicions the Viceroy's
envoy had brought back from a very secret conference with that
acute old local commander, Willoughby.
"It sounds all very well, Abercromby, my old friend," said Willoughby,
"but Johnstone, or old Fraser, as we call him, is a hitman shark!
Without a list or some general details, he will surely rob the
crown of one-half the jewels, you may be sure. His cock and bull
story of their recovery is too pellucid. It's Hobson's choice,
though. That or nothing. He, of course, slyly claims to have only
lately made this bungling accidental recovery. If the return is a
really valuable one, then all you can officially do is to accept
it.
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