Ram Lal was on the floor at her feet, groveling, before she grimly smiled, as he held out a paper, quickly extracted from his red sash. “That will do, Jules.” The Frenchman stood without the door. “You will not run away. You are far too rich, Ram Lal. And you will be watched every moment. Sign and seal the list, and date it to-day.” The old craven begged hard for mercy. “Here is a hundred pounds. Hawke will pay you four hundred more when I am safely on the sea, but only then! He will close all my bills. Remember, I shall come back again. And,” she whispered a word, “he will watch you closely.” The jeweler sealed the document, and scribbled his certificate. “Not one word of my business, not even to Hawke, on your life,” she said. “I shall come again! And General Willoughby will throw you in prison on a word from me.” Major Alan Hawke was astounded, after an hour’s yielding to the social charm of Madame Alixe Delavigne, when the happy woman led him away from the dinner table. “Now for a half-hour’s business chat,” she gayly said. “No, no notes. We shall next meet at No. 9 Rue Berlioz, Paris. You will receive my sealed directions from Grindlay’s agent here, with funds to settle my affairs. I go to-night to Calcutta, and thence to Europe. Obey my orders. You will get them, sealed, from the agent here. You can come on, by Bombay, when I cable to you. I will cable direct here to Grindlay’s. They’ll not lose sight of you,” she smiled. “And my relations with old Hugh?” he gasped in surprise. “Just watch him and follow him on to Europe. Neither you nor he can do me any harm, but your reward for your manly stand to-day will reach you in Paris. I knew of it.” “Shall I not see you to the train?” Hawke stammered. “Ah!” she smiled, extending her hand warmly, “I have a double guard and my servants. I will be met at Calcutta, and I go on my way safely now to work a slow vengeance!” CHAPTER X. A CAPTIVATED VICEROY. There were several “late parties” in sumptuous Delhi, on the evening when Madame Berthe Louison drove quietly to the railway station at two o’clock. A little knot of tired officials were still on duty, and when some forerunner had given a private signal, a single car, drawn by a powerful locomotive, glided out of the darkness. In a few moments a dozen trunks and a score of bags and bundles were tossed aboard the baggage van. Five persons stepped nimbly aboard, and then with no warning signal, the Lady of the Silver Bungalow was borne out into the darkness, racing on toward Calcutta with the swiftness of the wind.