“I’ll give you five accepted drafts for a thousand pounds each, when I return from Calcutta, on Glyn, Carr & Glyn, my London bankers, dated thirty days apart. That will make you sure of your money, and me, sure of my Baronetcy. Will you act?” Hawke knocked the ash off his Havana lightly.
“Yes, if you give me a thousand pounds cash bonus now! I am deliberately misleading Anstruther to help you. And I risk my own place to do it.”
“All right,” said Johnstone as he left the room, and in a few moments returned with a check-book. “There’s your thousand pounds. Now listen. Not a word to old General Willoughby. He is a meddlesome old sot. I shall slip away quietly. To deceive the Delhi scandal-mongers you must call here every day in my absence. Mademoiselle Delande will receive you. My daughter, of course, sees no one in my absence. And you can inform Delhi secretly, guardedly, that Madame Berthe Louison is an art enthusiast, a Frenchwoman of rank and fortune, and one who, in her short stay, only studies the wonders of old Oude. I don’t want this damned pack of local lady-killers—the lobster-backs—to get after her. Do you understand? I’ll have further use for you. I may retire to Europe. You can trust the Swiss woman. I will give her my orders.”
“All right! I will go and telegraph as soon as I can make my adieux. When do you start for Calcutta?” Hawke asked warily.
“The moment you get Anstruther’s reply,” decisively replied Johnstone. “I’ll be away for a couple of weeks in all!” Hawke turned paler than his wont, but he mused in silence and cheerfully finished his coffee and cognac. In half an hour, he left an aching void in Justine Delande’s bosom, but some subtle magnetism had so drawn Berthe Louison and the heart-stirred Justine together that Hugh Johnstone was happy, when, with courtly gallantry, he escorted the beauty, who had set Delhi all agog, to her garden-bowered nest.
“Have I kept my compact?” said Berthe, as they stood once more in her “tiger’s den.”
“You have, madame!” said Hugh Johnstone. “I have been considering all. I will leave secretly for Calcutta in two or three days. You had better follow me in a week. I have some private business there. I will ask my friend, Major Hawke, to show you the environs. You can trust him. Telegraph me to Grindlay’s Bank, Calcutta, of your arrival. I will meet you. Our business transacted, we can return together on the same train. All will then be safe.” His own secret preparations were all made.
“I agree to all,” said Berthe. “And, as to Nadine?”
Johnstone turned with blazing eyes, “You are to see her each day, at her own home, in the presence of Justine Delande. She will have my orders. Remember our compact! All your future association with her depends on your prudence. I will not be betrayed or openly disgraced!” His face was as black as a murderer caught in the act.
“I remember!” said the beauty of the Bungalow.