“I will act, Madame, at once!” said the holder of a scepter by proxy. “You are to guard this secret, both, upon your honor. Send the dispatch, as you have proposed. My official action is to follow this up. I will let the game go on in silence just a little longer. And now—” the Viceroy led the lady aside, whispering a few private words, which left her a proud and happy woman. “My special aid will call at your residence as soon as it is dark. The consular officials at Aden, Suez, Port Said, and Brindisi will all have orders regarding you. I am ashamed that the prudence needed in the official side of this affair prevents me socially honoring you as I would. 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. “I fear that General Abercromby will deem me discourteous! But time, tide, and the P. and O. steamers wait for no elderly beau, however fascinating!”
It is a matter of local history in Calcutta that General Abercromby’s remark: “Hawke! we have been a pair of damned fools! We are outwitted!” found its way at last into the clubs, and the attack of jaundice, followed up by a severe gout, which “laid out” the sighing lover for long months, proves, as of old, that stern Mars cannot cope with the bright and all-compelling Venus! But Major Alan Hawke, of the Provisional Staff, hearkened wisely to the banker’s words: “Don’t be fool enough to think that you can trifle with Madame Louison’s interests. The noble Viceroy has placed you on duty, at her own personal request, to give you a last chance to regain all the promise of your youth. One word from her, and—and you will be suspended or, dropped! You will get your military orders from the Viceroy and her wishes from me.”
Alan Hawke was paralyzed with astonishment the next day, when the Viceroy ordered him to proceed at once to Delhi, to report to General Willoughby, and to hasten to London, via Bombay, on completion of his secret service at Delhi.”