“I will give you a cheque.” Then, dashing off his signature upon the receipt tendered by Madame Louison, he calmly said: “These things are only of a trifling value--some long-treasured trinkets of my dead wife’s. May I be left alone for a moment?” The three silent witnesses retired into an adjoining room. In five minutes, Hugh Johnstone called the Bank Governor to his side. “There is your receipt, duly signed, and your cheque to balance, Mr. Governor. We are now both relieved of a tiresome controversy. Will you please bring in the others?” With a pleasant smile, the flush of a great happiness upon his face, Hugh Fraser Johnstone remarked: “I desire to state publicly that Madame Louison and my self have, in this little transaction, closed all our affairs. I have given to her a quit-claim release of all and every demand whatsoever.” With kindly eyes, Berthe Louison listened to a few murmured words from Hugh Johnstone. Bowing her stately head, she swept from the room upon the arm of the polite manager of Grindlay’s. “Home,” said the genial banker, as he deferentially questioned the Lady of the Silver Bungalow. “Do you honor us with a long visit?” he eagerly asked. “I return to-morrow evening, on the same train with the soon-to-be Sir Hugh. I only came here to attend to some business at the French Consulate and to adjust this trifling matter.” Hugh Johnstone writhed in rage, as he saw the cool way in which Berthe Louison fortified her safety lines. Before they were in the shelter of the banker’s superb mansion, Hugh Johnstone was double locked within the walls of Douglas Fraser’s apartment. “I have two hours to work in” he gasped, after a nervous examination of the contents of the cases which had been placed at his feet in his carriage. “And, then, for the Viceroy! But first to the steamer and the Insurance Office!’” Not a human being in Calcutta ever knew the contents of the small steel strongbox which occupied the place of honor in the treasure room of the Empress of India on her speeding down the Hooghly. But a Director of the Anglo-Indian Assurance Company opened his eyes widely when Hugh Johnstone, his fellow director, cheerfully paid the marine insurance fees on a policy of fifty thousand pounds sterling. “I am sending some of my securities home, Mainwaring,” the great financier said. “I intend to remove my property, bit by bit, to London. I do not dare to trust them on one ship.” The director sighed in a hopeless envy of his millionaire friend. Hugh Johnstone’s Calcutta agent was also solemnly stirred up when his principal gave him some private directions as to the custody of his private papers and a substantial Gladstone bag, consigned to the recesses of the steel vaults. “I go back with these papers to Delhi to-morrow night. Give me the keys of my private compartment till then. In a few months I may be called to London. Douglas Fraser will have my power of attorney.”