“I am in no hurry now. I can wait. I like Delhi, and I shall find my way to Nadine’s side, and she shall know the story of a mother’s love. One signal from me, by telegraph, and the document goes to the Viceroy. So, I fear you not, my would-be strangler! It is for me to make conditions! Listen! I will send my carriage and my man to your house to-morrow morning at ten. You will have made up your mind then. I have friends all around me, here, at Allahabad, and in Calcutta. If you practice any treachery on me you die the death of a dog, even here, in your robber nest!” “I will come! I will come!” faltered Johnstone. “Ah!” smiled the lady. “Jules, show Sir Hugh Johnstone to his carriage.” And then turning her back in disdain, she vanished without a word. CHAPTER VII. THE PRICE OF SAFETY. When nabob Hugh Johnstone’s carriage dashed swiftly down the crowded Chandnee Chouk, on its return to the marble house, the driver and footman, as well as the slim syce runners, were alarmed at the old man’s appearance when he was half led, half carried out of his luxurious vehicle. The staggering sufferer reached his rooms and was surrounded by a bevy of frightened menials, while the equippage dashed away in search of old Doctor McMorris, the surgeon par excellence of Delhi. A second butler had hastily darted away to the Delhi Club with an imperative summons for Major Alan Hawke, who had, unfortunately, left for the day. With a shudder of affright Mademoiselle Justine Delande had slipped into a booth on the great thoroughfare, only to feel safe when she glided into Ram Lal Singh’s jewel shop, to be swiftly hurried into the rear reception room by the argus-eyed merchant, who had noted the swiftly passing carriage. Her womanly conscience was as tender as her heart. “Lock the door, Ram Lal!” cried Alan Hawke, “We will be in the pagoda in the garden. Let no one pass this door, on your life!” When they were alone, Major Alan Hawke led the trembling woman away to to the hidden bower, where Ram Lal had hospitably spread a feast of India’s choicest cakes and dainties. Only there, in that haven of safety, dared the excited Justine to falter. “If you knew what I have suffered! He drove almost over me as I crossed the Chandnee Chouk, and I had a struggle to leave Nadine. There is the curse of an old family sorrow there. The father and daughter are arrayed against each other.” “Forget it all, my dear Justine,” murmured Alan Hawke. “Here you are hidden now and perfectly safe with me. Never mind those people now. Let us only think of each other. You were simply matchless in your behavior at the house.” “Oh, I fear him so! I fear that hard old man!” whispered the timid woman, as she dropped her eyes before Alan Hawke’s ardent glances. He had noted the growing touch of coquetry in her dress; he measured the tell-tale quiver of her voice, and he smiled tenderly when she shyly showed him the diamond bracelet, securely hidden upon her left arm.