Settle your intrigues as you will!"
Not a word was spoken, as Alan Hawke gravely opened the door to
Madame Berthe Louison's reception room. Hugh Johnstone's yellow
face paled as the Major breaking the silence, coldly said: "Madame!
I have broken a friendship of fifteen years to-day! Please do consider
me a stranger to you both after today!" And then he walked firmly
out of the house with a warning glance to Jules Victor, lingering
in the long hall.
The quick Frenchman saw in Hawke's gesture the secret sign of
a hidden friend, and he threw up his hand in a Parisian gesture
of gratitude and comprehension, and failed not to report to his
mistress, who saw Hawke's fine method with a secret delight.
Hawke drove to Grindlay's agency, where, in a private room, he
promptly cashed his check.
"I'll take it in Bank of England notes!" he quietly said as the
clerk lifted inquiring eyes. "I am going to transact some business
for the lady."
"Now, I can defy Fate!" he exulted, when he was safe out of the bank.
"She will trust me now, and old Johnstone will fear me. A case of
vice versa!" And, as he drove to the Club, he murmured, "I will
never leave this fight now! Damme! I'll just go in and get the
girl! Just to spite the old coward!"
Within the dreaming shades of the gardens hiding the Silver Bungalow,
there was no sign of clamor. The beautiful little jewel-box of a
mansion was apparently deserted, but a duel to the death was going
on within the great white parlor where Hugh Johnstone stood raging
at bay.
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