The French Consul-General has given to me his official
guaranty for you, which," he smiled, "was not needed. We shall meet
again, and your conduct will not be forgotten."
Alixe Delavigne bowed with the grace of a queen and never lifted
her eyes until her sober mentor had brought her to the shelter of
his home. Before they were seated at tiffin the wires bore away
this dispatch, which astounded its recipient:
"CAP. ANSON ANSTRUTHER, JUNIOR UNITED SERVICE CLUB,
LONDON.
Meet me at Morley's Hotel, London. Will telegraph you from Brindisi.
Official dispatches to you explain.
BERTHE LOUISON."
When the stars lit up the broad Hooghly that night, a swift
Peninsular and Oriental Liner drew away down the river, with a
smart steam-launch towing at her companionway. The woman who said
adieu to the Viceroy's aid and her grave-faced banker in her splendid
rooms had read the brief words of Captain Anstruther, telling her
that the electric Ariel was true to his trust. "All right. Both
dispatches received. Welcome. Anstruther." The official staterooms
were a bower of floral beauty, and the gallant aid murmured: "I
hope that nothing has been forgotten. The whole ship is at your
disposal. The Commander has the Viceroy's personal orders. And, I
was to give you the letter and this package!" When the banker had
exchanged the last words of counsel and advice, he said: "Trust
me! I know Hawke of old! We will let him go up the ladder of life
a little, while the other fellow comes down!"
When the little steam-launch was a black blur on the blue waters,
then Alixe Delavigne, standing alone at the rail, smiled as she
saw the lean, straggling shores sweep by.
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