A Fascinating Traitor

C >> Col. Richard Henry Savage >> A Fascinating Traitor

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"See the woman over there--come back, and tell me what I must do
or say. You and I are comrades," the jewel seller leeringly said,
"and we must lie together! All the world are liars-and half of the
world lives by lying." with which sage remark the old curio seller
betook himself to his narghileh.

In a half an hour, Major Alan Hawke was wandering through the garden
of the Silver Bungalow with Alixe Delavigne at his side. Behind
them, at a discreet distance, sauntered Jules Victor, his dark
eyes most intently fixed upon the promenaders. Madame Delavigne
was pleased to be cheerfully buoyant. She had silently listened
to Hawke's recital of the probable causes of General Abercromby's
visit. "I could see that Johnstone evidently wished to occupy us
both at Allahabad. Your conduct was discretion itself! Have you
seen him yet? Or the ladies?" She eyed her listener keenly.

"No, Madame," frankly said Hawke. "There is all manner of official
junketing on here now. I am not, of course, to be officially included,
as I am not on the staff of either the visiting or commanding
general. I must wait until I am invited--if I am!" he hesitatingly
said. "You know that my rank is--to say the least--shadowy!" The
lady passed over this semi-confession in silence.

"It is not like Johnstone to let Nadine meet all the gay coterie
which will fill the great halls," mused Madame Delavigne. "I
suppose that the dear child will have a week of 'marble prison'
in her rooms, with only the governess. I think I shall let General
Abercrornby leave before I call. What do you advise? Johnstone has
always ignored the ladies of Delhi!"

"I really am powerless to counsel you," said Major Hawke gravely,
"as I am outside of the circle. I would watch this man keenly. He
bears you no good will. And now--what shall I do? Did your business
at Calcutta bring me the summons to action?" There was no undue
eagerness in his voice. He was gliding into a safe position for
the future eclaircissement.

"Not yet. But it will come! It will come--as soon as this General
goes. For I now will demand the right to drop Berthe Louison, and
to be my own self. To be Alixe Delavigne to one bright, loving human
soul only, in this land of arid solitudes, of peopled wastes. The
land of the worn, scarred human nature, which, blind, creedless,
and hopeless, staggers along under the burden of misery under the
menace of the British bayonet."

"When do you leave it?" quietly asked the cautious Major.

"When my work is done!" the resolute woman replied. "I am here
for peace or war! We have only crossed swords! I do not trust this
man a moment! He is capable of any foul deed! Now, you must keenly
watch the clubs, the social life. Find out all you can! Come to me
here every night at ten. If I suddenly need you, then I will send
Ram Lal!"

"By day or night I am ready!" gravely said Major Hawke. "I do not
like to intrude upon you," he hesitatingly said.

"You will win your spurs yet in my service!" said Alixe. "The real
struggle is to come yet. I am only knocking at the door of Nadine's
heart. And the old nabob is but half conquered."

Major Hawke, with a bow, retired and wended his way to the Club,
where he spent an hour in preparing a careful letter to Euphrosyne
Delande. It was a careful document, intended to prudently open
communication with Justine through the Halls of Learning on the
Rue du Rhone, Geneva, but a little sealed inclosure to Justine was
the grain of gold in all the complimentary chaff. "Her own heart,
poor girl, will tell her what to do," said Hawke, as he departed
and registered the letter himself.

The passing cortege of General Abercromby, returning the visit of
the local chief, excited Hawke's attention. He caught a glimpse
of the silver-haired millionaire whom two widely different natures
had denounced that day as "being capable of anything."

"And so old Ram Lal has it 'in for him,' too! What can he mean?"

With a sudden impulse Major Hawke drove back and made a formal
call upon the ladies at the Marble House. He was astounded when old
Simpson, with a grudging welcome, openly announced that the ladies
were permanently not at home. "Gone to the hills for a month or
two," curtly replied the veteran servant, and then, on a silver
tray, the butler decorously handed to Major Alan Hawke a sealed
letter. "I was to seek you out at the Club, sir, as this letter
is important. I take the liberty to give it to you now. It was the
master's orders: 'That I give it into your own hands!'"

Major Alan Hawke's face darkened as he read the curt lines penned
by Hugh Johnstone himself. With a smothered curse he thrust the
letter in his pocket. "Both of them are trying to keep me in the
dark, I'll let Madame Berthe Louison run her own head into the trap.
Then, when she pays, I will talk, but not till then." The careful
lines stated that for a week the writer would be greatly engrossed
with private matters, and at home to no one. "I will send for you
as soon as I am able to see you, upon some new business matters."

The last clause was significant enough. "He prepared this to give
me a social knockout!" coolly said the renegade. "All right! But
wait! By Gad! I fancy I'll take a cool revenge in joining Ram Lal
and Berthe Louison. Suppose that the old duffer were put out of the
way? Could I then count on Justine, and my wary employer? There is
a storm brewing, and breakers ahead. I must soon get my 'retaining
fee' from the lady of the Silver Bungalow or I may lose it forever!
And I will let her uncover the empty bird's nest herself! She
must not suspect me!" And yet the curt letter of the old civilian
wounded him to the quick. "What does this jugglery mean? He ought
to fear me, by this time, just a little! He intends to crush Berthe
Louison by some foul blow, and then will he dare to begin on me?
I will double forces with Ram Lal. That's my only alliance!" The
Major's soul was up in arms.

When the splendid reception at General Willoughby's was over, Hugh
Johnstone cautiously approached Major Hardwicke. "I am just told
that General Abercromby will remain and dine 'en famille' with his
old brother in arms. Will you drive with me to my house? I have
something of a private nature to say to you. I can give you a seat
in my carriage." Major Hardwicke bowed and, obtaining his conge,
sat in expectant waiting until the two men were comfortably seated
in Johnstone's snuggery in the deserted mansion. They talked
indifferently over Abercromby's arrival till Simpson announced
dinner.

"I would like you to dine with me, Major Hardwicke," said the old
Commissioner, "for I have something now to say to you." He rang a
silver bell, and, whispering to Simpson, faced his young visitor,
who had bowed in acceptance. The butler returned in a few moments
with a superb Indian saber, sheathed in gold, and shimmering with
splendid jewels. He stood, mute, as Johnstone gravely said: "I
learned from Simpson, on my return from Calcutta, of your prompt
gallantry in aiding my daughter in her hour of peril." He continued,
"Simpson alone, was left to tell me, as I have sent the child away
to the hills for a couple of months. For reasons of my own, I do
not care to have a motherless girl exposed to the indiscriminate
hubbub of merely official society. The young lady will probably
not remain in India. I therefore sent them all away before this
official visit, which would have forced a child, almost yet a
school girl, out into the glare of this local junketing," he said
with feeling.

"Take this saber, Major. It was given up by Mir-zah Shah, a Warrior
Prince, in old days, so the legend goes. It is the sword of a king's
son. It will recall your own saber play so neatly conceived, and,
as a personal reminder, wear this for me! It is a rare diamond, which
I have treasured for many years. And its old Hindustanee name was
'Bringer of Prosperity.'" Hardwicke bowed, and murmured his thanks.

The nabob slipped a superb ring from his finger, and then, as if
he had relieved his mind forever of a painful duty, dismissed the
subject, almost feverishly entertaining his solitary guest at the
splendid feast which had been prepared for General Abercromby. It
was late when the strangely assorted convives separated. "I will now
send Simpson home with you, in my carriage," solicitously remarked
Johnstone, as the hour grew late. "There is a prince's ransom on
that sword--and, you did not bring your noble charger! You must
treat him well for my sake--for my daughter's sake!"

"Will Miss Johnstone return soon?" said the heart-hungry lover,
catching at this last straw.

"It is undetermined! I may send them home in a few months. But,
if I have any little influence left, 'at Headquarters,' that shall
always be exerted for you. I am always glad to meet you, your
father's son, for Colonel Hardwicke was a true soldier of the olden
days--brave, loyal, and beyond reproach."

The lover's beating heart was smothered in this flowing honey. "Ah!
I must trust to Simpson!" he mused. "The old man is a sly one!"

Politely bowed out by the stern, lonely old man, Major Hardwicke
departed, his conversational guns spiked with the deft compliments,
as the mighty clatter of the returning General filled the courtyard
of the Marble House.

In the soft, wooing stillness of the night, Simpson, at the young
Major's side, found time to whisper: "Never let the Guv'nor see
us together! He's a sly one! There's a honey-baited trap in this!
The girl's been spirited off to Europe! I only know that--but, as
yet, no more."

"What do you mean? Is he lying to me?" gasped Hardwicke, with a
sinking heart.

"Rightly said!" huskily whispered Simpson. "Seek for her--London
ways--I'll find it out soon where she is, and I'm just scholar
enough to write! Give me your own safe London address! I heard ye
would soon take yer long leave. Bless her sweet soul! I'll tell ye
now! She whispered to me: 'Tell him--tell Major Hardwicke--he'll
hear from me himself, even if I was at the very end of the earth!
and give him this!'" The frightened servant thrust a little packet
into the officer's hand. "It was the only chance she had."

"That Swiss woman watched her every moment, and the man--the one
the father sent from Calcutta. There was a telegram to her. I gave
it to her myself! Major, my oath--they're on the blue water, now!
I'll watch and come to you! Don't leave Delhi till I post you!"

"You're a brave fellow, Simpson. Keep this all quiet," softly said
Major Hardwicke. "I'll follow your advice, and I'll not leave here
till I know more from you. I'll follow her to Japan, but I'll see
her again."

"That's the talk, Major!" cried the happy old soldier, who felt
something crisp in his hand now. "Distrust old Hugh! He'll lie to
ye and trap ye! Watch him! He's capable of anything." The carriage
then stopped with a crash and Hardwicke sprang out lightly. "Make
no sign! Trust to me! I'll come to ye!" was Simpson's last word.

Before Simpson had discovered in the marble house the pleasing
figures on a ten-pound note, Harry Hardwicke, striding up and down
his room, in all the ecstasy of a happy lover, had kissed a hundred
times a little silver card case--a mere school girl's poor treasure,
but priceless now--for within it was a hastily severed tress of
gold-brown hair, tied with a bit of blue ribbon. A scrap of paper
in penciled words brought to him "Confirmation stronger than Holy
Writ." "I will write or telegraph when not watched. Do not forget.
--Nadine."

The words of the old servitor returned to the soldier in a grim
warning. "He is capable of anything."

"So am I," cried Harry as his heart leaped up. "I will find her were
she at the North Pole. He cannot hide her from me. Love laughs at
locksmiths!"

If the would-be Sir Hugh Johnstone had heard the three verdicts of
the hostile critics of his being "capable of anything," he might
have laughed in defiance, but after several friendly "night caps"
with the slightly jovial General Abercromby, it might have seriously
disturbed the host to know what hidden suspicions the Viceroy's
envoy had brought back from a very secret conference with that
acute old local commander, Willoughby.

"It sounds all very well, Abercromby, my old friend," said Willoughby,
"but Johnstone, or old Fraser, as we call him, is a hitman shark!
Without a list or some general details, he will surely rob the
crown of one-half the jewels, you may be sure. His cock and bull
story of their recovery is too pellucid. It's Hobson's choice,
though. That or nothing. He, of course, slyly claims to have only
lately made this bungling accidental recovery. If the return is a
really valuable one, then all you can officially do is to accept
it. But be wary! I can give you some friendly aid here, when you
get all the returned treasure. I'll give you a captain's guard here.
Bring all here at once. We, you, and I, will seal it up, and I'll
have old Ram Lal Singh secretly come here and value them. He's the
best judge of gems in India, and he was once an official in the
Royal Treasure Chamber of the old King of Oude. Less than fifty
thousand pounds worth as a return would be a transparent humbug,
and besides you can delay your signature for a day or so, till you
and I, after listing the gems, see this old expert and have him
examine them in our presence. No one need know of it but you and
I, and His excellency, the Viceroy. As for Hugh Johnstone, he is
simply capable of anything. I told the Viceroy's aid, Anstruther,
so. And I'll be damned glad to get Johnstone out of my bailiwick,
that I will."

With which vigorous "flea in the ear," General Willoughby dismissed
his startled comrade to the society of his crafty old host. And,
that night, strange dreams of unrest haunted the "modern Major
General" in the marble house, while singularly gloomy misgivings
weighed down the brave-hearted Berthe Louison, now heart-hungry for
a sight of the doubly beloved child of the dead lady of Jitomir.
She woke in the hot and clammy night to cry "No, no! He would never
dare to! She is here! I shall go boldly and. demand to see her
to-morrow!" Her womanly intuition told her the lines were broken.

And so, robed in fashion's shining armor, Alixe Delavigne counted
the moments, until at four o'clock of the next afternoon her carriage
waited in the bower-decked oval of the marble house. A gloomy frown
settled upon her face, as the impassive Hugh Johnstone approached
her carriage, sun helmet in hand. She scented treachery now! There
were a dozen brilliant young officers longingly gazing at this sweet
apparition in the gloomy gardens. Even General Abercromby strutted
out and displayed himself in the foreground, as Johnstone leaned
over and gravely whispered to the pale-faced beauty:

"My daughter has been sent away from the city for her health! Her
absence is indefinite. I will see you when General Abercromby leaves
here in a week, and explain all. No, not before. It is impossible."

With a sudden motion of her hand to Jules, Alixe Delavigne leaned
back, half fainting, upon her cushions. Her agitated heart was now
beating in a wild tumult of rage and baffled hatred! "Home!" she
cried, and then, as the marble house was lost to view, she harshly
cried: "To Ram Lal's first! To the jewel store!"

There was a brooding death in her eyes when she sternly said to
the merchant: "Send him to me at once! Send Hawke! Go! Waste not
a moment!"

And then she swore an oath of vengeance, which would have made Hugh
Fraser Johnstone shudder, as he sat drinking champagne cup with
his guest. "One for you, my lady!" he had laughed, grimly, as the
woman whom he had tricked drove swiftly away. And the grim fates
laughed too, spinning at a shortening life web.

Major Alan Hawke was interrupted in his cosy nest at the Club by
the hasty advent of Ram Lal. The old jeweler had for once abandoned
all his Oriental calm, and he trembled as he muttered. "She demands
you at once. I brought my own carriage. Go to her quickly. There
will be a great monsoon of quarrel now. But her face looks as if
she was stricken to the death, and something will come of all this.
You must watch like the crouching cheetah!"

"What has happened?" anxiously cried Hawke.

"She has just found out the women are gone! She went up to the
marble house this afternoon, and saw the old Sahib Johnstone. He
did not even bid her to leave her carriage. One of my men ran over
at once and told me. She drove to the shop on her way homeward and
sent me here." The black Son of Plutus scuttled away, as if in a
mortal fear. "I do not dare to face her--in her angry mood," was
Ram's last word. He was only accustomed to baby-faced Hindu women
of the "langorous lily" type, who hung on his every word--the mute
slaves of his jaded passions. "This one is a tigress!" he sighed,
as he fled from the Club.

"Ah! My lady is a bit rattled," mused Hawke as the carriage sped
along. "Now is the time to catch her off her guard." And so he made
himself sleek and patient, with the surface varnish of his "society
manner," when Jules Victor, with semi-hostile eyes, ushered him into
the presence of Alixe Delavigne, still in her robes of "visitation
splendor."

"What is this devil's work done in my absence? This spiriting away
of Nadine!" cried Alixe, grasping Hawke's wrist with a nervous clasp,
which made the strong man wince. "This juggling in my absence?"
Her eyes were sternly fixed on him in dawning suspicions.

"Madame," calmly said Alan Hawke, "if you had trusted to me, this
would not have happened. But you have chosen to make an enigma of
yourself, from the first. I am not tired of your moods, but I am of
your cold disdain, your contemptuous slighting of my useful mental
powers. You left me with no orders. I warned you that he was
capable of anything. See how he has treated me," he continued, with
a well-dissembled indignation. "He called me away to Allahabad to
be bear-leader to Abercromby, and the brute has just shown me the
door, to-day, openly saying that his daughter has gone to the Hills.
I believe that he lies! I know that he does! If you had deigned
to trust me, I would have followed on her track to hell itself,
but you chose to play the woman--the catlike toying with men! Damn
him! I owe him one now! If he had openly entertained me in this
brilliant visit, I might have re-entered the staff service--in a
week. And, you threw all my experience away in not trusting to me."

Alixe Delavigne looked up, with one piercing glance, as she sealed
a note. "Go openly to him--to Johnstone! Bring him back at once with
you! He dare not disobey this! I will denounce him, now, to-day!
to both the generals, and go to the Viceroy myself! I care not what
excuse he makes! BRING HIM!"

"And so I cut the last tie that binds me to a future reinstatement
for you, a callous employer, and am left adrift without an anchor
out for the future! You know that this man is a director of the
Bank of Bengal! A multi-millionaire! He will chase me from India!
I might trace the girl to her hiding-place for you! She has surely
been sent home by sea!" Alixe Delavigne was gliding up and down the
room as noiselessly as a serpent. She abruptly stopped her march.

"I will find her in Europe! What do you require to follow my orders
for three months? To wait here and then to take the road or to join
me in Europe! I pay all expenses and incidentals. What will make
you reasonably sure against fate--in advance?"

Alan Hawke dropped his eyes. Gentleman once, he was ashamed of the
sordid implied threat of abandonment.

"Five thousand pounds!" he whispered. The stony-faced woman dashed
off a check.

"Bring that man to me at once!" she cried, "and then go down to
Grindlay's agency here, and get your money! Go openly!"

"Shall I come back with him?" demanded Hawke.

"No, bring him here, and then excuse yourself."

Alixe Delavigne watched the carriage dash away. Hawke was on his
mettle at last, and he brutally enjoyed the little tableau, when
Hugh Fraser Johnstone impatiently tore open "Madame Berthe Louison's"
note. Hawke observed significantly that he had been shown into a
small room, suited to semi-menial interviews. The additional slight
maddened him. The clash of glasses and shouts of a gay crowd of
military convives rose up in a merry chorus within. Across that
banquet hall's draped doors the thin, invisible barrier of "Coventry"
shut out the bold social renegade. "She'll have to wait, Hawke!"
roughly said Hugh Johnstone, moving toward the door.

"By God! she shall not wait a minute, you damned old moneybags!"
cried the ruined soldier, who had long forfeited his caste--his
cherished rank. "You treated her like a brute to-day! She is a
lady, and you can't play fast and loose with her! You insulted me
by closing your damned door and sending me your offensive letter.
Go to her now! If you do not, I'll send my seconds to you, and
if you don't fight, by Heaven, I'll horsewhip you like a drunken
pandy!" and the fearless renegade barred the door.

"Don't be a fool, Hawke," faltered Johnstone. "She has taken the
whole thing the wrong way. I'll join you in a moment. I've got
these men on my hands. What did she tell you?"

"Nothing!" harshly cried Hawke, "and I wash my hands of you and
her. Settle your intrigues as you will!"

Not a word was spoken, as Alan Hawke gravely opened the door to
Madame Berthe Louison's reception room. Hugh Johnstone's yellow
face paled as the Major breaking the silence, coldly said: "Madame!
I have broken a friendship of fifteen years to-day! Please do consider
me a stranger to you both after today!" And then he walked firmly
out of the house with a warning glance to Jules Victor, lingering
in the long hall.

The quick Frenchman saw in Hawke's gesture the secret sign of
a hidden friend, and he threw up his hand in a Parisian gesture
of gratitude and comprehension, and failed not to report to his
mistress, who saw Hawke's fine method with a secret delight.

Hawke drove to Grindlay's agency, where, in a private room, he
promptly cashed his check.

"I'll take it in Bank of England notes!" he quietly said as the
clerk lifted inquiring eyes. "I am going to transact some business
for the lady."

"Now, I can defy Fate!" he exulted, when he was safe out of the bank.
"She will trust me now, and old Johnstone will fear me. A case of
vice versa!" And, as he drove to the Club, he murmured, "I will
never leave this fight now! Damme! I'll just go in and get the
girl! Just to spite the old coward!"

Within the dreaming shades of the gardens hiding the Silver Bungalow,
there was no sign of clamor. The beautiful little jewel-box of a
mansion was apparently deserted, but a duel to the death was going
on within the great white parlor where Hugh Johnstone stood raging
at bay. He leaped up in a mad outburst of passion, when Alixe
Delavigne cuttingly broke the silence. The old nabob knew that the
desperate woman in her reckless mood feared nothing.--

"You have lied to me! You have tricked me! You have sent that girl
away to Europe to hide her forever from me! I kept my pact, and,
you deliberately lied!" She stood before him like an avenging
fury, quivering in a passion which appalled him. But secure in his
skillfuly executed maneuver, he reached for his hat and stick.

"I defy you! I have no answer to your abuse! Draw off your fighting
cur, Major Hawke, or I'll grind you and him in the dust!" The old
man was frantic under the insult. He moved toward the door.

"Stop! You go to your ruin!" cried the irate woman. "Will you give
me full access to your daughter?"

"Never! My Lady! Go and lord it over your whipped hounds in
Poland--hide in your estates the price of the double shame of two
most accommodating Frenchwomen!"

"By the God who made me" she hissed, "I will bar your Baronetcy
forever! I will find out that girl, and she shall learn to love
me and despise your hated name and memory! It is open war now!
and,--mark you--liar and hound, these two generals, the Viceroy,
and, all India shall soon know what I know!" Then, with a clang
of her silver bell, she called Jules Victor to her side. "Jules,"
she said, "If this person ever crosses the threshold of my door
again, shoot him like the dog he is!"

And then the black-browed Frenchman, holding open the door, hissed
"ALLEZ!" as Hugh Johnstone saw for the last time the marble face
of the woman who had doomed him to shame.

"Go and send Ram Lal to me at once!" sternly said Berthe Louison.
"Then to Major Hawke. Tell him that I want him to dine with me,
and I shall need him all the evening. Order my carriage for five
o'clock!"

Alan Hawke had played his best trump card, and played it well, for
the woman who had doubted him, gloried in his courage and hardihood.
"I can trust him now!" she murmured when she drove to the Delhi agency
of Grindlays and, two hours later, astounded the local manager by
the executive rapidity of her varied business actions.

"What's in the wind?" murmured the bank manager. "A sudden flitting!"
He had been ordered to detail two of his best men to accompany
Madame Louison to Calcutta, in a special car leaving at midnight.
"Telegraph to your head office in Calcutta of my arrival. Major
Alan Hawke will represent me here, under written orders to be left
with your Calcutta manager. Send this on in cipher." She handed
him a long dispatch to his chief.

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