"I must be content to tap old Fraser when he comes back from London with that embarrassing lump of beauty, his millionaire niece.

She would make a fitting spouse for this Prince Djiddin, for she never speaks a word--at least to me.
And this swell Prince, who comes 'only one in a box,' gets the same 'frozen hand.' Funny girl, that.

But I must yield to old Fraser's moods." Alaric Hobbs then descended to the tap-room and instructed the pretty barmaid in the manufacture of his own favorite "cocktail," an American drink of surpassing fierceness and "innate power," which had once caused "Bald-headed Wolf," a Kiowa chieftain, to slay his favorite squaw, scalp a peace commissioner, and chase a fat army paymaster till he died of fright in his ambulance, after Alaric Hobbes had incautiously left a bottle of this "red-eye" mixture with his aboriginal host on one of the "exploring tours." A powerful disturbing agent, the American cocktail! But for all Miss Nadine Johnstone's seeming aversion to men, and in spite of Prince Djiddin's inability to utter a word of any jargon save ninety-five degree Thibetan, "far above proof," on this very morning while the "Moonshee" was transcribing under the watchful eyes of the excited Andrew Fraser the disclosures of the evening before, the young millionairess was "getting on" very well in exhibiting the glories of the tropical garden to the august tourist from the lacustrine Himalayas.
Jules Victor adroitly busied the maid whom Janet Fairbarn had dispatched to "play propriety," and the other London girl had quietly stolen away to her own last rendezvous with her mysterious London lover, "Mr.Joseph Smith," otherwise "Jack Blunt, Esq., of the Swell Mob of the Thames." The whispers of the stately young Prince brought crimson blushes to the face of the glowing girl, whose answering murmurs were as low as the siren voice of Swinburne's "small serpents, with soft, stretching throats." They had a double secret to keep now.

A momentous, a dangerous one; for in the depths of the Tropical Gardens of Rozel, the passionate hearted Alixe Delavigne was hidden, waiting this very morning to clasp again the beautiful orphan to a bosom throbbing in wildest love.

Prince Djiddin, always on his guard, artfully turned back and busied the maid, when she was released from Jules Victor's vociferous bar-gaining, with a half-hour's choosing her "fairing," out of the lively peddler's pretty stock.