outcome! He then grimly counted up his winnings. "Four-hundred and
eighty-eight good pounds! That will take me back to Delhi in very
good shape," he soliloquized. "I wonder if there is anyway to get
at that girl? If I mistake not, she will have a half a million!
The old Commissioner always liked me, too. By God! If I could only
get in between him and this baronetcy I might creep in on the girl's
friendship! But the old curmudgeon keeps her locked up! Rather
risky in India!" He leaned back, enjoying memories of the women with
pulses of flame and hearts of glowing coal whom he had met in the
days when he was "dead square." This strange woman! Who is she?
What does she know?

He dozed off until the clattering return of the Misses Phemie and
Genie Forbes, of Chicago, aroused him. His broad grin accentuated
the easily overheard strident remark: "Say, Genie, I wish we had
had those two English Lords at our opera supper. They are just
jim-dandies, that's what!"

"As long as the world is full of such fools, I can afford to live,"
he pleasantly remarked, as he turned in. A new campaign was opening
to him. Far away, up the shores of the moon-transfigured lake, a
hot-headed young fool was showering kisses on the hand of a woman,
who sweetly said: "Remember my conditions! Prove yourself my friend,
and I will meet you in Paris! Now, take me home." Samson was shorn
of his locks, and the delighted Alan Hawke found a little note
slipped under his door in the morning.