United States or Morocco ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
When nabob Hugh Johnstone's carriage dashed swiftly down the crowded Chandnee Chouk, on its return to the marble house, the driver and footman, as well as the slim syce runners, were alarmed at the old man's appearance when he was half led, half carried out of his luxurious vehicle.
Nothing must happen to your dear friend, you know!" he smilingly said in adieu, as Ram Lal groaned in anguish. Alan Hawke had closely examined the vehicle, and he sat with his drawn revolver ready as he drove down the still lit-up Chandnee Chouk. In a storm of remorse and agony, the plundered jeweler was now doubly locked up in his room. "I must do this devil's bidding!" he murmured. "Bowanee!
Major Hawke soon became aware that nothing succeeds like success. Not only did all the flaneurs of the Chandnee Chouk seize upon him, but, from passing carriages, bright, roguish eyes merrily challenged him as the hot-hearted English Mem-Sahibs whirled by.
Now, old Johnstone surely never looked the way of woman in India! It's true that he went back about twenty years ago to England on a two years' leave. He has lived the life of a splendid recluse in his magnificent old bungalow on the Chandnee Chouk." Anstruther paused, fishing for another fugitive smile. He caught it behind the back of the wary adventurer.
The correspondence at Allahabad may cover all of moment. Can you not give me a safe letter and telegraph address at Delhi?" "Give me your notebook," said Alan Hawke, as he carefully wrote down the needed information: "Ram Lal Singh, Jewel Merchant, 16 Chandnee Chouk, Delhi."
"If you knew what I have suffered! He drove almost over me as I crossed the Chandnee Chouk, and I had a struggle to leave Nadine. There is the curse of an old family sorrow there. The father and daughter are arrayed against each other." "Forget it all, my dear Justine," murmured Alan Hawke. "Here you are hidden now and perfectly safe with me. Never mind those people now.
When the receipt for his registered letter was laid away in his pocket-book, Alan Hawke calmly ordered his carriage. "I'll take a brush around town and show them that I am out of all these intrigues," he decided. It was six hours later when he drew up at the Club, having passed Madame Berthe Louison's splendid turnout swinging down the Chandnee Chouk.
And while Ram Lal Singh, secure in his zenana, calmly greeted the cool morning hour with a smiling face and a happy heart, in the lonely marble house, stern old Hugh Fraser Johnstone slept the sleep that knows no waking. The Chandnee Chouk awoke to its busy daily chatter, and old Shahjehanabad sought its pleasures languidly again, or bowed its shoulders once more under the yoke of toil.
"Mademoiselle Justine Delande must be my secret friend! I wonder if Euphrosyne really swallowed the bait! If she has fallen into the trap and written to her sister, then all is well!" His eyes roved over the familiar scene of the broad Chandnee Chouk, sweeping magnificently away from the Lahore gate to the superb palace. The sun beat down with its old ferocious glare on shop and bazaar.
His morning rides were now but keen inspections of the Commissioner's garden, and, lingering on the Chandnee Chouk, he knew, by experiments, conducted with a beating heart, just where Justine Delande was wont to wander in the lonely labyrinth, with her lovely young charge.
Word Of The Day