The chrysalis was nearing the butterfly stage of life and beating the bars with her wings.
The secret exultation of Justine Delande in her shadowy hold on Major Alan Hawke caused her to furtively lead Nadine Johnstone to the head of the great stairway, when Hawke made his adieux.
"He is a handsome young officer," timidly whispered the girl, shrinking back out of sight.

"What can he have in common with my father?
I thought he was some old veteran." And the awakened heart of Justine Delande bounded in delight.

She would have joyed to tell Nadine of her own romantic budding friendship, but a wholesome fear tied her tongue, and she was only happy when caressing the diamond bracelet that night, which encircled her arm, while with dry and aching eyes she waited for the dawn.
While Hugh Johnstone paced the veranda of his lonely marble palace that night, a prey to vague fears, and unwilling to face the accusing eyes of his daughter, Major Alan Hawke, with a sudden astonishment, stood mute before the splendid woman who received him in the mysterious bungalow.
There was scant ceremony of greeting between them, for Berthe Louison impatiently grasped his hands.
"He is here, and the girl, too," she said, with blazing eyes.

She stood robed as a queen before her secret agent.

"Where were you?
You left me here to wait in a torment of anxiety." "I have just come from his dinner table," quietly said the startled Major.