He was looking for tools suited to a dark game which busied his reckless heart.
Major Alan Hawke (temporary rank) had passed two days at Geneva in a serious conference with the sorrowing sisters Delande.

His meeting with the softhearted Justine had brought the color back to the poor woman's face, and she shyly held up the diamond bracelet to his view, murmuring, "I have thought of you and kissed it every night and morning, for your sake, Alan!" With a glance of veiled tenderness, the acute schemer took his fair dupe out upon the lake, while Euphrosyne directed the slow grinding of the mills of the gods.

"I must lose no time," Hawke pleaded, "as I have to report for duty in London." And so, he gleaned the story of the hegira and the situation at the Banker's Folly.

He heard all, and yet felt that there was a gap in the story.

Justine was true to her plighted word.
He instinctively felt that Justine was holding back something of moment, and yet in his heart he felt that the price of that disclosure would be his formal betrothal to the loving Justine.