CHAPTER II.

AN OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE ALLIANCE.





When the now buoyant Major Alan Hawke was awakened by the golden
lances of morning which shivered gayly upon the Pennine Alps he
proceeded to a most leisurely toilet, having first satisfied himself
that his winnings of the night before were not the baseless fabric
of a dream. He smiled as he fingered the crisp, clean notes, and
gazed lovingly upon the dingy-looking but potent check drawn on
the old army bankers.

"No nonsense about that signature," he cheerfully said. "Anstruther
is no welsher," and, as he rang for his hot water and a morning
refresher, he picked up the little note with an eager curiosity.

"By Gad! she is a cool one! This is no vulgar darned occasion!
I need all my wits to-day!" He was studying over the brief words
when the ready waiter took his order for a cosy breakfast. He had
deliberately moved out all his lines to an easy comfort, throwing
out a line of pickets against any appearance of social shabbiness.
"She said that she had money," he murmured, as he read the note
again. "What the devil does she want, then, if she has all the
money she needs! Perhaps some discarded mistress! Bah! The old