I think I will just have a good old-fashioned talk with Ram Lal Singh.

I need his evidence to hoodwink this old cask of grog, Abercromby.

I must blow off' his vanity in great style." While Berthe Louison slept, while old Hugh Johnstone plotted, while Ram Lal Singh fumed at Delhi, and Harry Hardwicke "mourned the hopes that left him," Major Alan Hawke retired to the Nirvana of a long afternoon siesta.

There was a little departing detachment on this golden afternoon at Madras--two frightened women, now gladly seeking the shelter of their cabins, as the fleet steamer Coomassie Castle turned her prow toward Palk Strait.

The terrible ordeal of "passing the surf" had appalled them, and the exhausted Nadine Johnstone at last fell asleep with her arms clasped around her sad-hearted governess.