Madame Berthe Louison was seen in Delhi, in public, for the last time, as she gazed steadily at the brilliant throng on the lawns of the marble house. A fete Champetre had brought “all of Delhi” together, and the conspicuous absence of “the French Countess” was the reigning sensation. The tall, bent form of Hugh Fraser Johnstone was prominent reigning as host, under a great marquee. Neither of the great generals were there, however, for Simpson had drawn Major Hardwicke aside to whisper: “A captain’s guard came here to-day and took an enormous treasure in precious stones up to Willoughby’s Headquarters!” and the two commanders were even then busied in listing the recovered loot, with a dozen yellow-faced Hindus and several confidential staff officers. “It’s the last act, Captain darlin’,” said Simpson. “Old Hugh has given me secret orders to get ready to go on to London. He only takes his personal articles. Young Douglas Fraser will come here and manage the Indian estates.” “Who’s he?” eagerly cried Hardwicke. “The fellow who carried the women away--the old man’s only nephew.” “Ah! now I see!” heavily breathed Hardwicke. “I will take the previous boat, and wait for the old man at Brindisi! Post me! I’ll keep mum!” “Depend on me for my life itself,” said Simpson; “but be prudent! I don’t want to lose my life pension. He’s been a good master to me. We’ve grown old together!” sighed the gray-headed soldier. The frightened Ram Lal Singh was driven around Delhi this eventful day like a hunted rat. Suddenly summoned to General Willoughby’s private rooms, escorted by a sergeant, who never left him a moment, the old Mohammedan was ushered into the presence of the two generals, who pounced upon him and showed him a great, assorted treasure in diamonds, pearls, pigeon rubies, sapphires, and emeralds of great size and richness. They were all duly weighed and listed, and duplicate official invoices lay signed upon the table. “You were Mirzah Shah’s Royal Treasure Keeper? Tell me. Are all his jewels here? The treasure that disappeared at Humayoon’s Tomb before Hodson slew the princes in the melee?” Ram Lal saw the frowns of men who had blown better men than himself from the guns in the old days, and he had a vivid memory of those same hideous scenes. “They are about half here in weight and number; about a quarter of the value. There is a hundred thousand pounds worth missing!” said the jewel dealer, gazing on the totals of numbers and weights. “The historic diamonds, the matchless pearls, the never-equaled rubies--all the choicest have been abstracted, and by a skillful hand!” “Go, then!” cried Willoughby. “Seal this in your breast! Speak to no one or you’ll die in jail, wearing irons! Here!” A hundred-pound note was thrust into his hand, and he was whirled away to his shop.