But when Simpson entered his master’s room he was followed by a wild-eyed returning emissary, who waited till the old soldier had left the room. Hugh Johnstone suddenly lost all interest in the breakfast tray, the letters and his morning toilet, when the Hindu fearfully said: “They are all gone--the Mem-Sahib, the two foreign devils, and all their belongings!” Johnstone was on his feet with a single bound. “Gone! What do you tell me, you fool?” He was shaking the slim-boned native as if he were a man of straw. “They went to the railroad at two o’clock at night, the coachman told me. We only began our watch by your orders at daybreak. She had been then gone four hours.” Johnstone foamed in an impotent rage. “Who is left in the house?” he roared. “Nobody, Sahib.” tersely said the Hindu. “Get out and send me Simpson!” the old man sternly said. “Go back and watch that house till I have you relieved. Tell me everyone who goes in or out!” And then the horrible fear that Willoughby or Abercromby had deceived him, began to dawn upon his excited mind. “Simpson,” he cried, “there’s a good fellow! Take the first trap and get over to Major Hawke. Tell him that I must see him here, at once, on the most important business. He must come. Then get to Ram Lal, and bring him yourself to your own room. Let me know, privately, when he is there. Never mind my dressing. Send me a couple of the others. Is the General awake?” “Just coming down for his ride! Horses ordered in half an hour!” Simpson fled away, muttering, “Hardwicke must know of this!” Hugh Johnstone fancied that he was dreaming when he met his official guest, refreshed and jovial, but still under the spell of Venus. “See here, Hugh!” said the gallant Abercromby. “I want you to present me to that stunning woman over there, at the Silver Bungalow, you know. They tell me she’s the Queen of Delhi. You old rascal, I’m bound to know her! Can’t we have a little breakfast there, under the rose?” A last desperate expedient occurred to Johnstone. His baronetcy was in danger now. “There’s but one man in Delhi can bring you within the fairy circle. That’s Hawke--a devilish good officer too, by the way! Ought to be back on the ‘Temporary Staff,’ at least! He comes here to breakfast! I’ll turn you over to him. He manages all the lady’s private affairs. He is your man.” General Abercromby turned a stony eye upon his host. “Does Willoughby go there?” he huskily whispered. “Never crossed the line! Hawke is far too shy. You see, Willoughby has not recognized Major Hawke’s rank and past services!” “Ah!” said the jealous warrior. “If Hawke is the man you say he is, I can get the Viceroy to give him a local rank, in two weeks! Send him down with me to Calcutta!” and the gay old would-be lover jingled away on his morning ride.