"The way to India is before you, but five hundred pounds is not
a fortune for Major Alan Hawke! Listen! I watched you carefully
yesterday, in your vigil upon Rousseau's Island. Your telltale face
betrayed you. You were left stranded here in Geneva. An accident
has brought us together. You cannot divine my motives. I can fathom
yours easily. Tell me now, of yourself, of your past in India--of
your present standing there. If you are frank, I may contribute to
your fortune; if not--our ways part here!"

"And, if I warn Anson Anstruther that you are a mere adventuress,
if I notify my old friend Hugh Fraser (soon to be Sir Hugh Johnstone),
then your little game will be spoiled, Madame Louison!" defiantly
said Hawke. The woman leaned back and laughed merrily in his face.

"You are like all professional lady killers, a mere fool in the
hands of the first woman of wit. I dare you to cross my path! I
will then join Captain the Honorable Anson Anstruther, in Paris, at
the Hotel Binda! I will also see that you are excluded from every
club in India! Your occupation will be gone, my Knight of Ecarte.
Anstruther waits for me." She tossed him a card. "See for yourself.
He was kind enough at breakfast, and, he will help me, if I ask
him."

"And why do you not fly to his arms?" sneered Alan Hawke, who had
quickly resigned the bullying tone of his abordage.

"Because he is a nice boy and a gentleman," the woman said, with
a cutting emphasis. "Now, let me read you, Monsieur le Major, a
lesson in manners. Never be rough with a woman! That is the road