“You see, Johnstone,” patiently admitted the man who had dropped into a good thing, “They all want to delve into the secrets of my mission here. You, of all men,” he meaningly said, “cannot blame me for throwing the dust into their eyes. I detest this intrusion, and so in sheer self-defense I am going to give a formal dinner to a lot of these bores, and then cut the whole lot when I’ve once done the decent thing.” Circling and circling, and yet never daring to approach the subject, old Hugh Johnstone warily returned to the suspended baronetcy affair, at last revealing his secret burning anxieties. But when Alan Hawke heard the train whistles, announcing the arrival of his beautiful employer, he fled away from the smoking-room in a mock official unrest. “I am expecting dispatches from England, and also very important detailed secret instructions. I’ve had a warning wire from Calcutta.” He had broken off the seance brusquely with a design of his own, and he rejoiced as Hugh Johnstone brokenly said: “Let me see you very soon again. I must have a plain talk with you.” The old nabob was in a close corner now. There had been a few bitter queries from the half-distracted girl which showed, even to her stern old father, that his position was becoming untenable. “Damn it! I must either talk or send her away,” he growled when left alone. “I’ve half a mind to telegraph Douglas Fraser to come here and convoy this foolish young minx home to Europe. She may grow to be a silent rebel like her mother.” His scowl darkened. “And yet, where to send her? I ought to go with them. Can I trust the Delandes to find a safe place to keep her till I come?” He was all unaware that his daughter Nadine was now a woman like her bolder sisters of society, but it was true. The chrysalis was nearing the butterfly stage of life and beating the bars with her wings. The secret exultation of Justine Delande in her shadowy hold on Major Alan Hawke caused her to furtively lead Nadine Johnstone to the head of the great stairway, when Hawke made his adieux. “He is a handsome young officer,” timidly whispered the girl, shrinking back out of sight. “What can he have in common with my father? I thought he was some old veteran.” And the awakened heart of Justine Delande bounded in delight. She would have joyed to tell Nadine of her own romantic budding friendship, but a wholesome fear tied her tongue, and she was only happy when caressing the diamond bracelet that night, which encircled her arm, while with dry and aching eyes she waited for the dawn. While Hugh Johnstone paced the veranda of his lonely marble palace that night, a prey to vague fears, and unwilling to face the accusing eyes of his daughter, Major Alan Hawke, with a sudden astonishment, stood mute before the splendid woman who received him in the mysterious bungalow. There was scant ceremony of greeting between them, for Berthe Louison impatiently grasped his hands.