If the Viceroy returns to England, my promotion will probably carry me with his Embassy to Paris as Major and Military Attache." And then they parted as mere casual acquaintances.
"Damn his cool impertinence," mused Alan Hawke, as he caught a passing cab, after telegraphing his greetings and intended departure to Justine Delande.
"Write one letter to Hotel Binda, Paris, then all to the P.& O.Agency, Brindisi; after that, to Delhi," were the lying words which reached the Swiss woman, whose loving breast was now given over to a tumult of sighs.
Major Hawke was not free from secret apprehensions until he landed at Calais, upon the next morning.

"Now for a last 'throw off' at Paris!" he exclaimed.

"Damn England! I hope I shall never see it again!" he growled, unmindful of the pitiless Fates ever spinning the mysterious web of Destiny.

"I'll first show up at Berthe Louison's, at No.

9 Rue Berlioz.