Part 29 (2/2)
”I have lots of ready money now--too much, even, for safety in travel, and the jewels will keep.” With a strange anxious craving to see his fair employer he drove directly to No. 9 Rue Berlioz on his arrival in Paris. The impa.s.sive face of Jules Victor met his gaze at the door.
”Madame, suddenly summoned to Poland, had begged Monsieur le Major to address her by letter, as telegrams were most unreliable in Russian Poland. Monsieur would, however, surely find letters at his London address, and it was true that Madame had not expected Monsieur's arrival for a fortnight.”
”I don't believe a d.a.m.ned word of this fellow's yarn. There is some sly juggling here!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Major as he drove back to the Hotel Binda. His brow was black as he descended, and it grew blacker still when he read a telegram from Euphrosyne Delande. He studied over the unwelcome news while he made a careful business toilet to visit the Credit Lyonnais. And a white rage shone out upon his handsome face as he learned that Justine was useless to him now. ”Discharged without even a reward! Thrust out like a beggar without a word of warning.” ”Justine on her way home. Pa.s.sed through Paris last night. Can you not return?”
The signature ”Euphrosyne” was a guaranty of the unwelcome truth. Major Hawke swore a deep and bitter oath as he penned a telegram to the Swiss preceptress: ”Coming to-night. Arrive to-morrow at ten o'clock. Keep all secret.” And he boldly signed the name ”Alan Hawke” to that and to a message to Captain Anson Anstruther: ”Delayed four days here by private business.”
He raged as he hastily soliloquized: ”I will at once present these drafts regularly through the Credit Lyonnais. I will go and get the whole story from Justine. I will pay off that tiger cat, Madame Louison, for her sneaking away. She fancies she has done with me now! Ah! By G.o.d!
She thinks so? Wait! And this old Scotch saw-file! I'll break him up! If I can only trace those stolen jewels to him, I'll have them or send the old miser off in irons to a life transportation! I begin to see the whole game at last! And I swear that I'll get to the girl if I have to carry her off!”
He went down to the Credit Lyonnais in an elegant ”mufti” garb, and depositing a thousand pounds sterling to his credit, left the four drafts for five thousand pounds each for collection, carelessly referring to Messrs. Grindlay & Co., of Delhi, London, and many other places, and mentioning the name of that eminent private native banker, money-lender, and jeweler, the well-known Ram Lal Singh. ”He shall back his indors.e.m.e.nt!” laughed Alan Hawke.
With a lordly insouciance, Major Alan Hawke then strolled out of the great bank and deliberately arranged his line of future action while he was taking his ease at his inn.
”First, to pick up all the threads of this queer intrigue through Justine. I must go back to her at Geneva. Then, to be sure that Berthe Louison is not repeating her cunning Delhi tricks with the dead man's brother. She might frighten him. Then, armed at all points, I must hasten on to report to Anstruther. I must have him give me a short leave as soon as I can get it, but before I open my siege trenches I must develop all the enemy's strength. What the devil is Berthe Louison up to now?”
In the night train, speeding back to Geneva, Major Hawke remembered some old desperate a.s.sociates of an enforced ”social eclipse” at Granville-sur-Mer. ”With a half a dozen resolute fellows I might hang around Jersey and, perhaps, force my way into the stronghold. It depends on where the mansion is located. If the jewels are there, I will either have them or else bend the old man to my will by threatened disclosures.
But I must first fool Anstruther and my pretty employer. If Justine had only remained at Jersey I might have easily won my way to the girl's side. And yet she will be under a long three years guardians.h.i.+p.” Some busy devil at his side whispered: ”She would be helpless if she were carried off.” And as the enraged schemer finished the last of a dozen cigars and took a pull at his pocket flask, he disposed himself to sleep, grumbling.
”They have upset all the chessmen. Old Fraser and the Louison, too, are playing at cross purposes--evidently. They have, however, spoiled my little game. I will spoil theirs!” He grinned as he decided ”I will do a bit of the Romeo act with Justine, and come back by Granville to Boulogne. If the old gang is to be found there, I may get one of them to spy the whole thing out. All these Jersey people are half French in their birth and ways. I can sneak some fellow in from Granville. There might be a chance. I'll get to the old fellow, or the girl, or the jewels--by G.o.d! I will! For I hold the trump cards.”
And yet his flattering hopes of gaining a permanent rank returned to affright him in planning such a bold deed. ”Ah! I must get some trusty fellow--perhaps, in London,” he muttered as his head dropped, and the train bore him on to the halls of learning, where poor Justine was now weeping on her sister's bosom, and unveiling all the secrets of a hungry heart to the sympathetic Euphrosyne.
But, saddest of all the coterie who had trodden the tessellated floors of the marble house at Delhi, was a lonely girl sobbing herself to sleep, that very night, in a gray castellated mansion house perched upon a sunny cliff of Jersey.
The fair gardens and splendid halls of the luxurious home seemed but the limits of a cheerless prison to the broken-hearted girl who had been astounded when her one friend, Douglas Fraser, the companion of a thirty-five days' journey, left her without a word. Nadine Johnstone had opened her heart, shyly, to her manly young kinsman, Douglas Fraser.
And yet she guarded, as only a maiden's heart can, the secret of the blossoming love for Hardwicke--the man who had saved her life. She asked her hungry heart if he would follow on her way, led by the appeal of her s.h.i.+ning eyes.
Worn, hara.s.sed, and wearied out by travel, she had sought a refuge in Justine Delande's clinging arms, on the night of their arrival from Boulogne, for the path from India had been but a series of shadow-dance glimpses of strange scenes. The ashen face of the tottering old pedant had offered her no welcome to a happy home.
”How hideously like my father, this old bookworm,” murmured the frightened girl in a strange repulsion, as she fled away to her room. It was a grateful relief when the servant maid announced that the travelers would be served in their rooms.
”The Master lives entirely alone,” the girl said shortly. Late that first night the lonely girl sat gazing at the windows rattling under the flying wrack, while Douglas Fraser and his father communed below her until the midnight hour. Suddenly Justine Delande was summoned to join them ”on urgent business,” and the heiress of a million sat with clasped hands, murmuring:
”Will he ever find me out here? This is only a cheerless prison. I am, forever, lost to the world.” There was that in Justine Delande's face on her return which startled the heart-sick wanderer.
”Ask me nothing--nothing to-night. Only sleep, my darling,” murmured the devoted Swiss. The shadows deepened over Nadine Johnstone as she fell asleep dreaming of her mother, the gentle vision, and, the absent lover of her girlish heart.
Sunny gleams came with the dawn, and Nadine was already wandering in the beautiful gardens of ”The Banker's Folly,” as the home perched on the hill was termed. It was there that Douglas Fraser suddenly came upon her, walking with the white-faced Justine. Both women could see that he bore tidings of grave import, and another shadow settled on Nadine's heart, as she clasped Justine's hand.
Her cousin's face was grave as he said, in a broken voice: ”I must hasten away instantly to catch the boat, and I have to return immediately to India. There's no time for a word. My father will tell you all! It is a matter of life and death to our whole family interests.
May G.o.d keep you, Nadine!” the young man kindly said, as he bent and kissed her hand. ”I have tried to make your long journey bearable!” And then, a wrinkled face at a window appeared to end the coming disclosure, for Douglas was softening. A harsh voice rose up in a half shriek:
”Douglas! Douglas!” and the young man turned back, without another word, springing away, over the graveled walks. Nadine's face grew ashen white, as the presage of coming disaster chilled her heart.
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