Big flirtation--wife of commanding officer! Hawke acted very nicely.
Said nothing--sacrificed himself. That's why the women all like
him. Very safe man. But, he's a shy bird now." They dissected his
past, guessed at his present, but could not read his future!

And then and there, the man who knew it all, told of the mysterious
governmental quest confided to Major Alan Hawke. "You see, he has
a sort of roving commission in mufti, to counteract the ceaseless
undermining of the Russian agents in Persia, Afghanistan and in
the Pamirs. We always bear the service brand too openly. It gives
away our own military agents. Now, Hawke's a fellow like Alikhanoff,
that smart Russian duffer! He can do the Persian, Afghan, or
Thibetan to perfection! He has been on to London. Some morning he
will clear out. You'll hear of him next at Kashgar, or in Bhootan,
or perhaps he will work down into China and report to the Minister
there. He is a Secret Intelligence Department of One, that's all!"

"That's all very irregular for Her Majesty's Service," growled an
envious agnostic.

"Bah! Secret Service has no rules, you know," said the man who knew
it all, thrusting his lips deeply into a brandy pawnee.

And so it was noted that Alan Hawke was a devilish pleasant fellow,
a rising man, and one who had certainly dropped into an extremely
good thing. The tide of Fortune was setting directly in favor
of the man who, pacing the floor upstairs, unavailingly tormented
himself with the subject of the missing jewels.

"If I could only get a hold on Hugh Johnstone!" mused the adventurer.