Before the silver tray loaded with ante-prandial beverages was
produced, Hugh Johnstone quietly turned to his guest. "Did you see
Anstruther in London?" he demanded, with a scarcely veiled eagerness.

"We were together some days," very neatly rejoined the now confident
Major. "In fact, I'm to operate partly under his personal directions.
We are old friends."

"I wonder when he will return?" dreamily said Johnstone, as if the
subject was growing annoying in its bold directness.

"I believe that he has a long leave--a furlough of a year," lightly
answered the Major. "In fact, I am to carry on some official matters
for him in his absence, but he is wary and non-committal."

"What is his English address?" abruptly said Johnstone, as they
bowed formally over their glasses.

"I do not know," frankly returned Hawke. "I am to send all reports
to headquarters in Calcutta."

"Are you going down there soon?" asked the old nabob, with a growing
uneasiness.

"Not unless I am sent for by the Viceroy," quietly said the Major,
with a listless air, gazing around admiringly on the magnificence
of the apartment.

"I will give you a letter to my nephew, Douglas Fraser, when you
do go," said Johnstone. "He is a fine youngster, and he will have