A grin of satisfaction spread over the bullet-headed old ruffian's face, and his round gray pig eyes twinkled, as he noted the already established entente cordiale between Jack Blunt's pal and the wanton spy who was the absent Jack's own especial pet.

But, Alan Hawke was temporarily blind to the universally offered charms of the soubrette as he read Joseph Smith's careful report.
"That's the talk!" joyously cried Hawke.

His heart bounded in a fierce thrill.

"By God! Simpson shall be 'done up' in short order.

The drunken old dog.