He dared not even cry out.
Hugh Johnstone groaned as his eyes turned from the woman, now laughing him to scorn, to the stern-faced Frenchman, who was covering the baffled assailant with the grim Lefacheux revolver.
"Send this man away.

Let us talk, Alixe," muttered the astounded Johnstone.

Then a mocking laugh rang out in the room.
"I am in no hurry now.

I can wait.

I like Delhi, and I shall find my way to Nadine's side, and she shall know the story of a mother's love.