With a sudden impulse Major Hawke drove back and made a formal call upon the ladies at the Marble House. He was astounded when old Simpson, with a grudging welcome, openly announced that the ladies were permanently not at home. “Gone to the hills for a month or two,” curtly replied the veteran servant, and then, on a silver tray, the butler decorously handed to Major Alan Hawke a sealed letter. “I was to seek you out at the Club, sir, as this letter is important. I take the liberty to give it to you now. It was the master’s orders: ‘That I give it into your own hands!’”
Major Alan Hawke’s face darkened as he read the curt lines penned by Hugh Johnstone himself. With a smothered curse he thrust the letter in his pocket. “Both of them are trying to keep me in the dark, I’ll let Madame Berthe Louison run her own head into the trap. Then, when she pays, I will talk, but not till then.” The careful lines stated that for a week the writer would be greatly engrossed with private matters, and at home to no one. “I will send for you as soon as I am able to see you, upon some new business matters.”
The last clause was significant enough. “He prepared this to give me a social knockout!” coolly said the renegade. “All right! But wait! By Gad! I fancy I’ll take a cool revenge in joining Ram Lal and Berthe Louison. Suppose that the old duffer were put out of the way? Could I then count on Justine, and my wary employer? There is a storm brewing, and breakers ahead. I must soon get my ‘retaining fee’ from the lady of the Silver Bungalow or I may lose it forever! And I will let her uncover the empty bird’s nest herself! She must not suspect me!” And yet the curt letter of the old civilian wounded him to the quick. “What does this jugglery mean? He ought to fear me, by this time, just a little! He intends to crush Berthe Louison by some foul blow, and then will he dare to begin on me? I will double forces with Ram Lal. That’s my only alliance!” The Major’s soul was up in arms.
When the splendid reception at General Willoughby’s was over, Hugh Johnstone cautiously approached Major Hardwicke. “I am just told that General Abercromby will remain and dine ‘en famille’ with his old brother in arms. Will you drive with me to my house? I have something of a private nature to say to you. I can give you a seat in my carriage.” Major Hardwicke bowed and, obtaining his conge, sat in expectant waiting until the two men were comfortably seated in Johnstone’s snuggery in the deserted mansion. They talked indifferently over Abercromby’s arrival till Simpson announced dinner.
“I would like you to dine with me, Major Hardwicke,” said the old Commissioner, “for I have something now to say to you.” He rang a silver bell, and, whispering to Simpson, faced his young visitor, who had bowed in acceptance. The butler returned in a few moments with a superb Indian saber, sheathed in gold, and shimmering with splendid jewels. He stood, mute, as Johnstone gravely said: “I learned from Simpson, on my return from Calcutta, of your prompt gallantry in aiding my daughter in her hour of peril.” He continued, “Simpson alone, was left to tell me, as I have sent the child away to the hills for a couple of months. For reasons of my own, I do not care to have a motherless girl exposed to the indiscriminate hubbub of merely official society. The young lady will probably not remain in India. I therefore sent them all away before this official visit, which would have forced a child, almost yet a school girl, out into the glare of this local junketing,” he said with feeling.
“Take this saber, Major. It was given up by Mir-zah Shah, a Warrior Prince, in old days, so the legend goes. It is the sword of a king’s son. It will recall your own saber play so neatly conceived, and, as a personal reminder, wear this for me! It is a rare diamond, which I have treasured for many years. And its old Hindustanee name was ‘Bringer of Prosperity.’” Hardwicke bowed, and murmured his thanks.
The nabob slipped a superb ring from his finger, and then, as if he had relieved his mind forever of a painful duty, dismissed the subject, almost feverishly entertaining his solitary guest at the splendid feast which had been prepared for General Abercromby. It was late when the strangely assorted convives separated. “I will now send Simpson home with you, in my carriage,” solicitously remarked Johnstone, as the hour grew late. “There is a prince’s ransom on that sword—and, you did not bring your noble charger! You must treat him well for my sake—for my daughter’s sake!”
“Will Miss Johnstone return soon?” said the heart-hungry lover, catching at this last straw.
“It is undetermined! I may send them home in a few months. But, if I have any little influence left, ‘at Headquarters,’ that shall always be exerted for you. I am always glad to meet you, your father’s son, for Colonel Hardwicke was a true soldier of the olden days—brave, loyal, and beyond reproach.”
The lover’s beating heart was smothered in this flowing honey. “Ah! I must trust to Simpson!” he mused. “The old man is a sly one!”