“I fail to understand you,” slowly replied Anstruther, now blankly gazing at the two men in a growing wonderment.
“Nothing easier,” briskly answered Murray. “I go quietly over to Jersey and spend a honeymoon week with Flossie. She is soldier enough to know that my little masquerade means full ‘duty pay and traveling allowances.’ I will hide her safely with my Jersey friends, and while Frank Halton works his secret Literary Bureau, I will steal over to Southampton and bring ‘Prince Djiddin’ over to St. Heliers. I will see that he naturally falls in with Prof. Alaric Hobbs, and then, ‘fond of seclusion,’ I will embower my ‘Asiatic Lion’ not a league from the ‘Banker’s Folly.’ I will be near my Flossie, and I propose to bring ‘Prince Djiddin’ soon face to face with the heiress.
“As the Prince speaks not a word of English, even old Fraser will be disarmed. Neither Hobbs, Alaric of that ilk, nor Fraser have ever been in India, and we can easily fool them. Neither of us have ever been in Jersey, and fortunately our figures, age, and complexions aid the makeup. I can do the Moonshee. It was my ‘star’ cast in many a garrison theatrical show. Remember, none of them have ever seen Hardwicke or myself—only Miss Nadine will know us.”
“But,” faltered Alixe Delavigne, “Captain Murray makes no provision for me. Must I be hidden here always?” Her voice was trembling with the surging love of her longing heart.
“Ah! dear Madame!” replied Murray. “Place aux dames. You can be later quietly escorted to St. Heliers. Old bookworm Fraser does not leave the ‘Folly’ once in six months. You shall, on to-morrow, arrange with Mrs. Flossie Murray to share ‘those days of absence’ with her, while I am playing the ‘Moonshee’ to ‘Prince Djiddin’s’ leading part. With your own sly man-of-all-work, then how easy for the acute Jules Victor to lead you into the extensive grounds, where you may often meet Nadine Johnstone when all is safe. He has the friendly entree, and can hoodwink the attendants of the garden, while your own ingenuity will enable you to have stolen interviews in the splendid rambles of the ‘Banker’s Folly.’ Old Andrew never quits his study, and all we have to do is to watch Miss Janet Fairbarn. Jules Victor can guard against a surprise by her.”
“It is an ingenious plan, but, a dangerous one,” mused Anstruther.
“Not so,” boldly replied Murray. “Remember that old Fraser is crazy on his bookwork. Hobbs is his only male visitor. He has not a relative, a friend—no one to watch on the outside while we hold the old chap at bay. Miss Janet watches in the house.” Anstruther had been carefully studying the two men’s faces. “‘Prince Djiddin’ will be all right, with a little makeup, using walnut juice and a proper costume. His Indian brown is quite the thing. But you, my boy, must be an Eurasian, the son of a high English official and a native woman of rank. You were carried away to Thibet by your beautiful Cashmere mother when she was abandoned. The usual sad story will go. She, driven out by her family, refuges finally in Hlassa, and your English was, of course, learned before the death of your father, when you were eighteen. Your usefulness as interpreter caused you to attach yourself to ‘Prince Djiddin’s’ noble family.
“Yes,” said Hardwicke. “A couple of days spent in the British Museum, and with your fertile imagination, Eric, you will be enabled to describe the mysterious, lonely city on the Dzangstu, and even the gilded temples of Mount Botala. You can easily book up all about the Dalai Lama. Make a voyage a la Tom Moore to Cashmere!”
“Right you are!” laughed Eric Murray. “Frank Halton stole into the town of Hlassa and he now offers to me his sketchbooks and private notebooks. Foreigners from the south have occasionally been allowed to go into Thibet since the Nepauese were driven out, but only very rarely. I will have all the rig and quaint outlandish gear that Halton brought away. So you see we are the ‘Ever Victorious Army.’ Yes. Prince Djiddin will be a go.” And the others were fain to agree in the plausibility of the scheme.
It was midnight when the quartette separated to meet at the quiet wedding of the morrow. Alixe Delavigne had finally approved the plan, when Anson Anstruther drew her away to confer upon the risk. “You see,” he pleaded, “Murray will never even speak to Miss Johnstone. All that pleasing task is left to Prince Djiddin, who can and will, of course, choose any unguarded moment. Captain Murray will hold old Fraser personally in limbo, while you and Prince Djiddin can meet the pretty captive in alternation. At any danger signal, the Prince and Moonshee can quit Jersey at once.” Then the lightning thought came to the lady: “She already loves him! It must be so! He is the only young officer who was ever allowed to enter the Marble House in that long year of golden bondage. It shall be so! I can trust to him for her sake, if he loves her for Love’s own sake. I can remain near Nadine then, even if they have to disappear, for Jules will keep the pathway open.” And yet, shamefaced in her own growing tenderness for her mentor, Anstruther, she took these wise counsels away to hide them in her own happy heart. “It will make us then, Captain Murray,” she said, as she extended her hand in good night, “a little circle of five, gathered around this motherless and fatherless girl to save her from the secret schemes of tyrant and fortune hunter.”