I have a little private business to attend to, and I'll come home in a trap!" By a strange chance, Major Alan Hawke, the distinguished favorite of fortune, slunk along in byway and shadow till he reached the cottage, where a lovely woman, flower wreathed, with child-like face and timid, mournful eyes, anxiously awaited him.

"I'll be back in two or three hours," he carelessly said, as he tossed her a roll of rupees.

Then, with a long, slender package hidden in his bosom, he stole out after a long circuit and entered Ram Lal's compound by the rear entrance, always at his use.
"It is just as well not to make any little mistake just now," mused Hawke, as with cat-like tread he sped through the old jeweler's garden.
And the "prevention of mistakes" consisted in the heavy Adams revolver which he carried slung around his neck and shoulder by a heavy cord, in the handy Russian fashion.
His left hand steadied the peculiar parcel which he had so carefully hidden.

An amused smile flitted over his face when old Ram Lal opened the door of the snuggery, where Justine had first listened to a lover's sighs.

"Poor girl! I wish she were here to-night!" tenderly mused the sentimental rascal, as he waved away Ram Lal's bidding to a splendid little supper.
"I came here to talk business, Ram, to-night" sternly said Hawke, who had inwardly decided not to taste food or drink with the past master of villainy.