“Well,” drawled Foran, holding his hand palm outward and letting the others see the bright glistening red stone that nestled there, “the young beggar nearly got away with it.”
The Resident smiled grimly and turned to his majordomo.
“Devi Bhadra, you and the Sepoy remove the body. I expect Inspector Jayram will want to take charge now. Is that all right with you, Foran?”
Major Foran, nominally in charge of the security of the Residency, indicated his agreement, and Devi Bhadra motioned the Sepoy to follow him in the execution of their unpleasant task.
Lord Chetwynd Miller turned to his ADC and clapped him on the shoulder. The young man had laid aside the Lee Enfield and was now sitting on his chair, his face white, his hand shaking.
“Good shooting, Tompkins. Never saw better.”
Foran was pouring the young officer a stiff brandy. “Get that down you, lad,” he ordered gruffly.
The young lieutenant stared up. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Never shot anyone before. Sorry.” He took a large gulp of his brandy and coughed.
“Did the right thing,” confirmed the Resident. “Otherwise the beggar would have got clean away-” He turned to Jayram and then frowned.
Inspector Jayram was gazing in fascination at the stone that Foran had set back in its box. He took it up with a frown passing over his brow. “Excuse me, Excellency,” he muttered.
They watched him astounded as he reached for a knife on the table and, placing the stone on the top of the table, he drew the knife across it. It left a tiny white mark.
White-faced, Major Foran was the first to realize the meaning of the mark. “A fake stone! It is not the Eye of Shiva!”
Jayram nodded calmly. He was watching their faces carefully.
Sir Rupert was saying, “Was the stone genuine in the first place? I mean, did Savaji Rao give you the genuine article?”
“We have no reason to doubt it,” Major Foran replied, but his tone was aghast.
Royston, who had taken the stone from where Jayram had left it on the table, was peering at it in disbelief. “The stone was genuine when we started to examine it,” he said quietly.
The Resident was frowning at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Royston stared around thoughtfully. “I mean that this is not the stone that I held in my hand a few minutes ago.”
“How can you be so sure?” demanded Gregg. “It looks exactly the same to me.”
Royston held up the defaced stone to the light. “See here… there is a shadow in this stone, a tiny black mark that indicates its flaw. The stone I held a few moments ago did not have such a mark. That I can swear to.”
“Then where is the real stone?” demanded Father Cassian. “This stone is a clever imitation. It is worthless.”
Major Foran was on his feet, taking the stone and peering at it with a red, almost apoplectic stare. “An imitation, by George!”
The Resident was stunned.
“I bet that Hindu chappie had this fake to leave behind when he robbed the safe. The real one must still be on his body,” Lieutenant Tompkins gasped.
“On his body or in the garden,” grunted Foran. “By your leave, sir, I’ll go and get Devi Bhadra to make a search.”
“Yes, do that, Bill,” instructed the Resident quietly. He was obviously shocked. Foran disappeared to give the orders.
There was a moments silence, and then Jayram spoke. “Begging your pardon, Excellency, you will not find the stone on the body of the dead priest.”
Lord Chetwynd Miller’s eyes widened as they sought the placid dark brown eyes of Jayram. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly.
Jayram smiled patiently. “The Betul priest did not steal the real ruby, Your Excellency. Only the fake. In fact, the real ruby has not left this room.”
“You’d better explain that,” Father Cassian suggested. “The ruby has been stolen. According to Lord Miller, the genuine stone was given into his custody. And according to Royston there, he was holding the genuine stone just before we heard Devi Bhadra capture that beggar. Then the Hindu priest was brought here into this room. He grabbed the stone from Foran, and the real stone disappears. Only he could have had both fake and real stone.”
Foran had come back through the shattered window of the dining room. Beyond they could see Devi Bhadra conducting a search of the lawn where the man had fallen.
“There is nothing on the dead man,” Foran said in annoyance. “Devi Bhadra is examining the lawn now.”
“According to Inspector Jayram here,” interposed Gregg heavily, “it’ll be a waste of time.”
Foran raised an eyebrow.
“Jayram thinks the ruby never left this room,” explained Father Cassian. “I think he believes the Hindu priest grabbed the fake when he tried to escape.”
Jayram nodded smilingly. “That is absolutely so,” he confirmed.
The Resident’s face was pinched. “How did you know?” he demanded.
“Simple common sense, Excellency,” replied the Bengali policeman. “We have the stone here, the genuine stone. Then we hear the noise of the Betulese being captured as he makes an abortive attempt to steal the stone from your study-abortive because the stone is here with us. He is brought to this room, and there he stands with his arms held between Devi Bhadra and the Sepoy. He makes a grab at what he thinks is the ruby and attempts to escape. He believes the stone genuine.”
“Sounds reasonable enough,” drawled Sir Rupert. “Except that you have no evidence that he was not carrying the fake stone on him to swap.”
“But I do. Devi Bhadra searched the culprit thoroughly. He told us; he told us twice that he had done so and found nothing on the man. If the fake stone had been on the person of the priest of Vira-bhadra, then His Excellency’s majordomo would have found it before he brought the priest here, into the dining room.”
“What are you saying, Jayram? That old man Shiva worked some magic to get his sacred eye back?” grunted Gregg, cynically.
Jayram smiled thinly. “No magic, Mr. Gregg.”
“Then what?”
“The logic is simple. We eight are sat at the table. The genuine stone is brought in. We begin to examine it. We are interrupted in our examination by the affair of the priest of Vira-bhadra. Then we find it is a faked stone. The answer is that someone seated at this table is the thief.”
There was a sudden uproar.
Sir Rupert was on his feet, bawling. “I am not going to be insulted by a… a…”
Jayram’s face was bland. “By a simple Bengali police inspector?” he supplied helpfully. “As a matter of fact, I was not being insulting to you, Sir Rupert. My purpose is to recover the stone.”
Lord Chetwynd Miller slumped back into his chair. He stared at Ram Jayram. “How do you propose that?”
Jayram spread his hands and smiled. “Since none of our party have left the room, with the exception of Major Foran,” he bowed swiftly in the soldiers direction, “and he, I believe, is beyond reproach, the answer must be that the stone will still be on the person of the thief. Is this not logical, Your Excellency?”
Lord Chetwynd Miller thought a moment and then nodded, as though reluctant to concede the point.
“Good. Major Foran, will you have one of your Sepoys placed on the veranda and one at the door? No one is to leave now,” Jayram asked.
Foran raised a cynical eyebrow. “Are you sure that I’m not a suspect?”
“We are all suspects,” replied Jayram imperturbably. “But some more so than others.”
Foran went to the door and called for his men, giving orders to station themselves as Jayram had instructed.
“Right.” Jayram smiled. “We will now make a search, I think.”
“Then we’ll start with you,” snapped Sir Rupert. “Of all the impertinent-”
Jayram held up a hand, and the baronet fell silent. “I have no objection to Major Foran searching my person.” He smiled. “But, as a matter
of fact, Sir Rupert, I was thinking of saving time by starting with you. You see, when there was the disturbance of the Betulese being brought in here, at that time you were the one holding the stone.”
Royston whistled softly. “That’s right, by Jove! I held the genuine stone. Then I passed it on to Father Cassian and…”
The priest looked uncomfortable. “I passed it on to Sir Rupert just as the commotion occurred.”
Sir Ruperts face was working in rage. “I’ll not stand for this!” he shouted. “A jumped-up punkah-wallah is not going to make me-”
Major Foran moved across to him with an angry look. “Then I’ll make you, if you object to obeying the inspector’s orders, Sir Rupert,” he said quietly.
Sir Rupert stared at them and then with a gesture of resignation began to empty his pockets.
Jayram, still smiling, raised his hand. “A moment, Sir Rupert. There may not be any need for this.”
Inspector Foran hesitated and stared in surprise at the Bengali.
“I thought…,” he began.
“The commotion started. Our attention was distracted. When our attention focused back on the jewel, who was holding it?”
They looked at one another.
Gregg stirred uncomfortably. “I guess I was,” he confessed.
Foran nodded agreement. “I took the stone from him, and that’s when we discovered it was a fake.”
Gregg rose to his feet, and they all examined him with suspicion. “You won’t find anything on me,” Gregg said with a faint smile. “Go ahead.”
Jayram returned his smile broadly.
“I am sure we won’t. You, Mr. Gregg, did not take the stone from the hands of Sir Rupert, did you?”
Gregg shook his head and sat down abruptly.
“No. I took it from the box where Sir Rupert had replaced it. He put it back there when the Hindu priest was being questioned.”
“Just so. The stone was genuine as it passed round the table until it reached Sir Rupert, who then replaced it in the box. Then Mr. Gregg took the stone from the box and passed it round to the rest of us. It was then a fake one.”
Sir Rupert was clenching and unclenching his hands spasmodically. Major Foran moved close to him.
“This is a damned outrage, I tell you,” he growled. “I put the stone back where I found it.”
“Exactly,” Jayram said with emphasis. “Where you found it.”
They realized that he must have said something clever, or made some point that was obscure to them.
“If I may make a suggestion, Major,” Jayram said quietly. “Have your Sepoys take Father Cassian into the study and hold him until I come. We will remain here.”
The blood drained from Father Cassian’s face as he stared at the little Bengali inspector. His mouth opened and closed like a fish for a few seconds. Everyone was staring at him with astonishment. If nothing else, Cassian’s expression betrayed his guilt.
“That’s a curious request,” observed Foran, recovering quickly. “Are you sure that Father Cassian is the thief?”
“Will you indulge me? At the moment, let us say that Father Cassian is not all that he represents himself to be. Furthermore, at the precise moment of the disturbance, Cassian was holding the stone. Sir Rupert had asked him for it. Our attention was momentarily distracted by Lady Miller at the door. When I looked back, the stone had been replaced in its holder. Sir Rupert, seeing this, took up the stone, examined it, and replaced it. The only time it could have been switched was when Cassian held it, before he replaced it in the casket.”
Cassian half rose, and then he slumped down. He smiled in resignation. “If I knew the Bengali for ‘it’s a fair cop,’ I’d say it. How did you get on to me, Jayram?”
Jayram sighed. “I suspected that you were not a Catholic priest. I then made a pointed reference to Pelagius to test you. Any Catholic priest would know that Pelagius is not a saint and martyr of the fourth century. He was a philosopher who argued vehemently with Augustine of Hippo and was excommunicated from the Roman church as a heretic. You did not know this.”
Cassian shrugged. “I suppose we can’t know everything,” he grunted. “As I say, it’s a fair…” He had reached a hand into his cassock. Then a surprised look came over his features. He rummaged in his pocket and then stared at Jayram. “But…,” he began.
Jayram jerked his head to Foran. Foran gave the necessary orders. After the erstwhile “Father” Cassian had been removed, against a background of stunned silence, Foran turned back to Jayram.
“Perhaps you would explain why you have had Cassian removed to be searched. The search could easily have been done here.”
“The reason,” Jayram said imperturbably, “is that we will not find the stone on him.”
There was a chorus of surprise and protest.
“You mean, you know he is innocent?” gasped Foran.
“Oh no. I know he is guilty. When our attention was distracted by the entrance of the captive, Father Cassian swapped the genuine stone and placed the fake on the table for Sir Rupert to pick up later. It was the perfect opportunity to switch the genuine stone for the faked stone. Cassian is doubtless a professional jewel thief who came to Baroda when he heard that Savaji Rao was going to present the Eye of Shiva to the Resident for transportation to England.”
“You mean, Cassian was already prepared with an imitation ruby?” demanded Royston.
“Just so. I doubt whether Cassian is his real name. But we will see.”
“But if he doesn’t have the stone, what can we charge him with, and moreover, who the hell has the genuine stone?” demanded Foran.
“Father Cassian can be charged with many things,” Jayram assured him. “Traveling on a fake passport, defrauding… I am sure we will find many items to keep Father Cassian busy.”
“But if he doesn’t have the genuine Eye of Shiva, who the devil has it?” repeated Lieutenant Tompkins.
Jayram gave a tired smile. “Would you mind placing the genuine ruby on the table, Your Excellency?”
There was a gasp as he swung round to Lord Chetwynd Miller.
Lord Chetwynd Miller’s face was sunken and pale. He stared up at Jayram like a cornered animal, eyes wide and unblinking.
Everyone in the room had become immobile, frozen into a curious theatrical tableau.
The Resident tried to speak, and then it seemed his features began to dissolve. He suddenly looked old and frail. To everyone’s horror, except for the placid Jayram, he reached into the pocket of his dinner jacket and took out the rich red stone and silently placed it on the table before him.
“How did you know?” he asked woodenly.
Ram Jayram shrugged eloquently. “I think your action was one made on-how do you say-’the spur of the moment’? The opportunity came when our prisoner tried to escape. You instinctively ran after him. You collided with Sir Rupert, and both went down. Cassian went to your aid. He had his role as a priest to keep up. There was-how do you call it? — a melee? The jewel accidentally fell from Cassian’s pocket unnoticed by him onto the floor. You saw it. You realized what had happened and staged a second fall across it, secreting it into your pocket. You were quick-witted. You have a reputation for quick reactions, Excellency. It was an excellent maneuver.”
Foran was staring at the Resident in disbelief. Tompkins, the ADC, was simply pale with shock.
“But why?” Foran stammered after a moment or two.
Lord Chetwynd Miller stared up at them with haunted eyes. “Why?” The Resident repeated with a sharp bark of laughter.
“I have given my life to the British Government of India. A whole life’s work. Back home my estates are heavily mortgaged and I have not been able to save a penny during all my years of service here. I was honest; too scrupulously honest. I refused to take part in any business deal which I thought unethical; any deal from which my position prohibited me. What’s the result of years of honest dedication? A small pension that will barely sustain my wife and myself,
let alone pay the mortgage of our estate. That together with a letter from the viceroy commending my work and perhaps a few honors, baubles from Her Majesty that are so much worthless scrap metal. That is my reward for a lifetime of service.”
Major Foran glanced at the imperturbable face of Jayram and bit his lip.
“So, you thought you saw a way of subsidizing your pension?” Jayram asked the Resident.
“I could have paid off my debts with it,” confirmed the Resident. “It would have given us some security when we retired.”
“But it was not yours,” Sir Rupert Harvey observed in a shocked voice.
“Whom did it belong to?” demanded the Resident, a tinge of anger in his voice. “Was it Savaji Rao’s to give? Was it the Queen-Empress’s to receive? Since Colonel Vickers stole it from the statue of Shiva in Betul, it has simply been the property of thieves and only the property of the thief who could hold on to it.”
“It was the property of our Queen-Empress,” Lieutenant Tompkins said sternly. He was youthful, a simple young soldier who saw all things in black-and-white terms.
“She would have glanced at it and then let it be buried in the royal vaults forever. No one would have known whether it was genuine or fake-they would merely have seen a pretty red stone. To me, it was life; comfort and a just reward for all I had done for her miserable Empire!”
Lord Chetwynd Miller suddenly spread his arms helplessly, and a sob racked his frail body. It was the first time that those gathered around the table realized that the Resident was merely a tired old man.
“I have to tell my wife. Oh God, the shame will kill her.”
They looked at his heaving shoulders with embarrassment.
“I don’t know what to do,” muttered Foran.
“A suggestion,” interrupted Ram Jayram.
“What?”
“The stone was missing for a matter of a few minutes. It was not really stolen. What happened was a sudden impulse, an overpowering temptation which few men in the circumstances in which His Excellency found himself could have resisted. He saw the opportunity and took it.”
Foran snorted. “You sound like an advocate, Jayram,” he said. “What are you saying?”
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