He was duly rewarded by a glance of secret intelligence when he leaned back, dreamily closing his eyes. “You see, they were going to make old Hugh Fraser or Hugh Johnstone, as he is now called, a baronet for some secret services to the Crown of an important nature, rendered about the time when mad Hodson piled up the whole princely succession to the House of Oude in a trophy of naked corpsess pistoling them with his own hand.” He ordered a third bottle of Pommery, with a wave of his hand, and proceeded: “Of course, you know, Her Majesty’s Government always closely investigate the social antecedents of the nominee in such cases. The change of name is all right; it is regularly entered at Herald’s College and all that sort of thing, but the Chief has heard of the sudden appearance of this beautiful daughter. Now, old Johnstone surely never looked the way of woman in India! It’s true that he went back about twenty years ago to England on a two years’ leave. He has lived the life of a splendid recluse in his magnificent old bungalow on the Chandnee Chouk.” Anstruther paused, fishing for another fugitive smile. He caught it behind the back of the wary adventurer. “I know the old house well,” said Hawke with an affected unconcern. “Men were always entertained royally there, but I never saw a woman of station in its vast saloons.” “Now there you are!” cried Anstruther, lightly resuming: “I was sent up to Delhi to delicately find out about this alleged daughter, for the Chief does not want to throw Johnstone’s baronetcy over. The fact is before they packed the toothless old King of Oude away to Rangoon to die with his favorite wife and their one wolf cub out there, Hugh Fraser skillfully extorted a surrender of a huge private treasure of jewels from these people while they were hidden away in Humayoon’s tomb. There’s one trust deposit yet to be divided between the Government and this sly old Indo-Scotch-man, and I fancy the empty honor of the baronetcy is a quid pro quo.” Alan Hawke laughed heartily. “It is really diamond cut diamond, then.” “Precisely,” said Anstruther, as he most calmly waved his hand to the steward, who silently refilled even the glass of the Venus Anonyma. A slight inclination of the head and parthian glance number three, encouraged Anstruther to hasten and conclude, for the moon was sailing grandly over the lake now.