"You obtained the pictures safely, then, and with a prudent caution,"
anxiously demanded Madame Louison.

"You shall know all soon. I hope that I have satisfied you!" he
said, handing her a packet, failing to tell her that he had kept
two pictures of the far-away girl for his own private use. They were
now near the plateau where the Hotel Faucon shows its semi-circular
front to the splendid panorama unrolled before its windows.

An afternoon concert was in progress at the Casino, near the local
museum. "We will stop here for a few moments," said the excited
woman. "You can go on alone, and walk over to the hotel and secure
your own rooms. Then send your card up to me in the usual manner.
To-night we will go out separately and meet for a conference. We
can arrange all our business." The Major bowed submissively, and
assisted the lady to alight.

Madame Louison dismissed her carriage, and the confederates-to-be
entered the afternoon concert room. A superb orchestra was playing
the finishing bars of the last number on the program, and the audience
had dwindled away to a few knots of demure residents. Following
his passive policy, the adventurer sat silently, stealing oblique
glances at his companion as she nervously unfolded the wrappings of
the coveted pictures. There was a gasp, a low moan, as the woman's
head fell back. Alan Hawke's strong arms were clasped round her, as
she leaned back helplessly in her fauteuil. But a smile of secret
triumph was on his face as he quickly bore the helpless form to an
anteroom at once opened by the frightened ushers. Berthe Louison's
face was corpse-like in its pallor, as she lay there upon a divan,