There might be a chance.

I'll get to the old fellow, or the girl, or the jewels--by God! 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 shining eyes.
Worn, harassed, 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.