“Forget it all, my dear Justine,” murmured Alan Hawke. “Here you are hidden now and perfectly safe with me. Never mind those people now. Let us only think of each other. You were simply matchless in your behavior at the house.”
“Oh, I fear him so! I fear that hard old man!” whispered the timid woman, as she dropped her eyes before Alan Hawke’s ardent glances. He had noted the growing touch of coquetry in her dress; he measured the tell-tale quiver of her voice, and he smiled tenderly when she shyly showed him the diamond bracelet, securely hidden upon her left arm.
“I put this on to show you that I do trust you,” she murmured. “And I wear it every night. It seems to give me courage.” The happy Major pressed her hand warmly.
“Let it be a secret sign between us, an omen of brighter days for all of us. Stand by me and I will stand by you to the last. We will all meet happily yet by the beautiful shores of Lake Leman!”
In half an hour, Justine Delande was completely at her ease, for well the artful renegade knew how to circle around the dangerous subject nearest his heart—the secret history of Nadine Johnstone’s mother. He had dropped easily into the wooing and confidential intimacy which lulled Justine Delande into a fool’s paradise of happy content.
She was sinking away and now losing her will and identity in his own, without one warning qualm of conscience. For Alan Hawke’s dearly bought knowledge of womankind now stood him in great stead.
“One single familiarity, one questionable liberty, and this cold-pulsed Heloise would fly forever. She must be left to her day dreams and to the work of a sweet self-deception,” he artfully mused. They were interrupted but a moment, when Ram Lal Singh glided to the door of the pagoda.
“I must now go to the bungalow to see Madame Louison and have her approve her horses and carriage. She has sent word that she will drive this afternoon. And,” he whispered breathlessly, “Old Johnstone is very sick. He has sent all over the city to find you, and now his own private man bids me go there at once. He must have me, if he can’t find you.”
Major Hawke mused a moment. “Give me the keys! Put your best man on guard to watch for any intruders! Go first to the Mem-Sahib! Keep your mouth shut! Remember about me and—” He pointed to the governess, now timidly cowering in a shadowy corner. “Let the old devil wait till you are done with her! Pump the old wretch! Find out what he wants! Say that I went off for a day’s jaunt!” Alan Hawke smiled grimly as he seated himself tenderly at Justine Delande’s side. “Old Hugh did not last long! They must have had their first skirmish. If he is a coward at heart, she will rule him with a rod of iron. What is her hold over him? I warrant that the jade will never tell me. She will fight him to the death in silence, and try to hoodwink me. We will see, my lady! We will see!”
“Now, Justine,” softly said the renegade, “tell me all of the story of this strange father and daughter! Ram Lal has reconnoitered! We are safe! Both Hugh and his daughter are at home!”