“Call up your servants. Get out the carriage. Go back to your women. Make merry. You are perfectly safe, but only if you obey me!” was the last mandate of the triumphant bravo. When he stepped out of the house, attended by the frightened murderer, Alan Hawke whispered from the carriage: “Your house is under a close watch--even now. Remember--I give you till sundown, and if you fail, I will come with the guard! I shall seal up the dagger and leave it here with a message to the General Willoughby Sahib to be given to him, at once, by one who knows you! So, I can trust you. Nothing must happen to your dear friend, you know!” he smilingly said in adieu, as Ram Lal groaned in anguish. Alan Hawke had closely examined the vehicle, and he sat with his drawn revolver ready as he drove down the still lit-up Chandnee Chouk. In a storm of remorse and agony, the plundered jeweler was now doubly locked up in his room. “I must do this devil’s bidding!” he murmured. “Bowanee! Bowanee! You have betrayed your servant!” was his cry as he sought the safety of the Zenana. Major Hawke tasted all the sweets of a great secret triumph as he cast up his accounts. “The five thousand pounds frightened from this old wretch, Ram Lal, really squares me with the estate of the ‘dear departed.’ The jewels are worth twice as much more, and, with Ram Lal’s indorsement all the other drafts on Glyn’s bank are as good as gold. There is twenty thousand clear profit. I will send them on now for acceptance, openly, through the Credit Lyonnaise when I get to Paris. For Berthe Louison will give me, also, a good character. Old Ram’s indorsements make them perfectly good anywhere. I had better hide the details of this windfall, out here. And, now, thank Heaven, I am ‘fixed for life,’ and I can go in boldly and play the Prince Charming to Miss Moneybags, the fair Nadine.” He tossed a double rupee to the driver, as the sentry swung the gate, but, hastily called him back as Captain Jordan said, hastening from the house: “Orders are waiting for you now, with the General. Let me give you a trusty Sergeant. Drive right up there, Major. The General sent word that he awaits you.” And so the Major sped away to his chief. No human being in Delhi ever knew the purport of the orders which General Willoughby handed to Major Hawke, on this eventful evening, but much marveled all Delhi that the favorite of fortune was absent from the funeral of the late Hugh Fraser Johnstone, Esq., of Delhi and Calcutta. He had vanished, with no P.P.C. calls, and a hundred-pound note tossed to the poor little Eurasian girl in the cottage was her whole fortune in life now.