Chapter V: The Eyes of Rajiid (2)

“Now that the mystery of the first verse has been cleared away, I confess that the lines of the second become more significant,” I replied. “The lines, ‘The treasure in the niche’ have, from the first, encouraged in me the suspicion that the writer might, indeed, be referring to the hiding-place of precious stones. But, while a certain temple undoubtedly is referred to, the lines, ‘Your temple-builders made,’ and ‘Seize fast the long-tongued jade’ have baffled me. There is nothing to indicate where the temple may be found, and, as ‘jade’ undoubtedly signifies a woman, it is scarcely probable that she has been living all these years. These reflections have led me to believe that the language was only figurative, after all--that ‘The treasure in the niche’ was Truth, and that the ‘long-tongued jade’ who must be seized before Death calls to the ‘finder,’ was Opportunity.”

Throwing back his head, Blakeslee laughed loud and boyishly.

“And so they are--so they are,” he said pacifically, as he saw the anger in my eyes. “But let us look at the thing from a distinctively material viewpoint. Briefly, then, the writer tells us that having discovered the hiding-place of the stones, and succeeded in getting away with one, he finds himself compelled to seek safety in flight. Others, less fortunate than he has been, may return for the treasure in the niche, if they will, but, so far as he is concerned, the game isn’t worth the candle. Besides telling us that the treasure is in the niche, he also says that the seeker will find it within ‘the very walls your temple-builders made.’ The ‘very’ indicates that the walls are the same that had been reared by the builders of the temple in which the stones were at the time of their disappearance, ‘your temple-builders’ undoubtedly being the builders of the temple in which you are especially interested--in short, the temple originally associated with the gems.”

Fairly gasping for breath as the force of this interpretation became impressed upon me, I voiced my last protest.

“But the jade--the jade--” I began.

“That line is at once the most important and intelligible of all,” he said. “The word has, of course, several meanings--a tired horse, a woman, and a certain kind of stone that is plentiful enough in India. Many jars, idols, and other ornaments are made of this stone, and the line in the verse apparently refers to a piece of jade carved in some form that shows a long tongue. In this stone you doubtless will find Diamond Number Two. But the writer warns us that the possession of this is likely to prove fatal to the finder, for he says: ‘Ere Death unto the finder calls’!”

“That is all very well,” I muttered moodily, “but how are we to know where to look for this temple?”

“My dear fellow, this sagacious, plainly spoken uncle of yours had so little confidence in the perception of his prospective nephew that he left nothing to chance,” replied Blakeslee laughingly. “He has told you.”

“Told me!” I exclaimed as I took the sheet that Blakeslee held out to me.

“You said, I believe, that you tried to find an acrostic in the lines,” Blakeslee went on.

“I tried the first verse only, but I failed. The first letters of the lines are ‘R-a-j-i-i-d-t-s’--a combination that is devoid of sense.”

“There is no ‘t,’” protested Blakeslee. “The seventh line begins with an apostrophe. The word, therefore, is Rajiid’s. In the second verse the acrostic is plain--‘Lost eyes.’ Thus we have ‘Rajiid’s Lost Eyes.’ Taking these words in conjunction with the idea expressed in the first four lines of the poem--namely, that the diamonds flashed ‘just’ as Buddha gazed--it is easy to infer that the diamonds served as the eyes themselves. Therefore, the diamonds are the lost eyes. Now, as temples often are designated by the names of the towns in which they stand, it is reasonable to assume that the Rajiid mentioned is the name of the town in which we are to find our temple. Have you an Indian Gazetteer among your books?”

I had one, and quickly placed it in his hands. Blakeslee turned the pages deliberately. At length he stopped and, taking his pipe from his mouth, read aloud:

“‘Rajiid, Nauwar: population, three hundred and twenty-five. Shoorgai, forty miles.’”

As he passed the open book to me, he added:

“Well, there’s your temple, laddie. And now give me a place to turn in, won’t you? When I got to London it was too late for me to get a train out to the mater’s place, so I thought I would come up and smoke a pipe with you. I won’t be up to town again for a week or so--unless--well, I’ll see that thing through with you at Hetley, if you like.”

That night Blakeslee shared my bed with me. He was soon asleep, and it was not long before he had the bed to himself; for, after tossing restlessly for a couple of hours, I rose and, donning my bathrobe, paced the floor of the library until after daybreak. At breakfast it was arranged that I should communicate with the rector of Hetley Church, and that, as soon thereafter as might be practicable, Blakeslee should go with me to the vault where our gruesome task was to be performed.

When Blakeslee left me, I at once proceeded to formulate a general plan for the intended undertaking.

All his life my father had been watched by spies. In Glyncamp, who had so nearly succeeded in obtaining from him the secret of the mysterious verses, I recognized a powerful enemy. Was he working in the interest of Meschid or in his own? Were his interests or those of Meschid allied with interests of the native Indians who had attempted to get the stones from my father? If not, how many independent jewel-seekers were to be numbered among my persecutors?

I saw at once that it was all-important that I should move with secrecy. Glyncamp was the man I most dreaded, and I shuddered when I reflected what might happen to me, now that the mystery lay open in my mind, if Glyncamp should succeed in getting me in his power. How easily this might be effected was shown by my experience in that dimly lighted house of the Pasha’s, when, in the guise of a veiled Turkish woman, he had sat, unrecognized, in the room with me for hours.

In less than an hour I had decided to abandon the policy of retrenchment that had been inaugurated by my father. All my energies, financial and otherwise, now would be directed to the task of obtaining these diamonds. I would win Pauline, and, by publicly transferring the gems to other ownership, I would remove the curse that had pursued my father to his grave and now was casting its shadow over me.

Sending for the head of one of the most prominent private detective agencies in London, I directed him to secure all possible information relative to Glyncamp’s past life, and to locate him and keep him under surveillance. Some of this information reached me quickly.

I learned that the man was a native of Ohio, and that, having won considerable celebrity as a mind-reader in the United States, he had gone to Paris, where his performances had excited extraordinary interest. Impressed by his singular ability, the Russian government had offered him a large sum to go to that country and give his services to the secret police. He had about decided to accept this offer when a proposition coming to him from Turkey caused him to change his plans. He went to Constantinople, and his arrival in the Turkish capital was followed quickly by the discovery of the secret plans of a revolutionary society. This resulted in more than a score of executions. Then Glyncamp’s trail was lost, only to be found again when he appeared in England with Meschid Pasha. Upon leaving London with the Pasha, the mind-reader again had disappeared.

Convinced of the correctness of Blakeslee’s interpretation of the mysterious verses, I decided that the sooner the tomb in Hetley churchyard was opened the better would be my chance of keeping the proceeding secret. I saw that I must do one of two things. Either I would have to write to the rector, or I would have to see him personally. I realized that writing on such a subject would be unwise in the circumstances, but I reflected that, if I made two visits to Hetley, I would take a double chance of exciting the suspicion of spies.

In the end, I came to the conclusion that the better plan would be to summon Blakeslee, and, accompanied by him, get to Hetley about the middle of some afternoon, and, after obtaining the rector’s consent to the proceeding, go to the churchyard at night and perform the necessary task.

I selected as the date of our visit to Hetley the second day of the new moon, hoping that in the darkness our visit to the churchyard would be unobserved by villagers.

Fortunately, all weather conditions were in our favor. Blakeslee and I arrived at Hetley in a driving rain. We found our way to the rectory without trouble, and were there greeted by the Rev. John Wivering, the rector. To him I explained who I was, and I told him that the purpose of my visit was to obtain from the inside lining of Lieutenant Wortley’s coat a paper of the greatest importance which had been placed there by my uncle. The fact that this was there, I said, had been revealed by a document which I found among the papers of my father.

Though a little startled at first by the nature of my purpose, the rector assented readily enough to my request. The key to the vault was in the sexton’s room in the church, but the sexton himself was confined to his bed by an attack of quinsy. The rector offered to summon a couple of villagers to give us any assistance that we might require, but we assured him that the task was so comparatively simple we needed no aid.

Convinced that I was the person I represented myself to be, and that my purpose was perfectly legitimate, the rector readily promised to maintain the strictest secrecy concerning the proceeding. We had tea with the good man and his wife; and, soon after darkness fell, Blakeslee and I, carrying a satchel that we had brought with us, repaired to the churchyard.

The task of conquering the rusty lock occupied more than ten minutes, but it yielded at last. The rust-encrusted iron door moved inward, and a rush of damp air passed our faces.

Stepping quickly inside the vault, I drew a dark lantern from the satchel and bade Blakeslee close the door. A few moments later the lantern’s fan-like ray was sweeping the floor, roof, and walls.

In the general aspect of the vault there was nothing to inspire an average man with a sense of morbidness. The open space was about ten feet square. The walls were of sandstone, and in these were set slabs of yellowish marble on which were inscribed in black letters the epitaphs of the persons entombed behind them. The slab bearing the name of Lieutenant Wortley was almost level with the floor.

From the satchel we took chisels and mallets. The plaster surrounding the slab was easily crumbled, and, working quietly and quickly, we succeeded in releasing the slab in about twenty minutes. Behind this we encountered a row of bricks. These were soon removed, and, at last, we beheld the side of the box we sought.

Without pausing, we addressed ourselves to the most formidable part of our task--that of withdrawing the box from the niche into which it had been thrust. But the efforts of our perspiring, muscle-strained bodies told at last. Then, with fingers quivering as a result of the violence of our efforts, we produced a couple of screw-drivers and began to remove the screws from the cover of the box. The raising of this disclosed the top of a casket covered with black cloth.

Once more we returned to work with our screw-drivers, and the second lid soon was lifted. Beneath this was a coffin, crudely fashioned of lead. Fearing that this was sealed with metal, we examined it carefully, and were relieved to find that, like the others, the cover was only screwed down.

At length, Blakeslee and I, having worked our way around the gruesome box, came together. My companion was withdrawing the last screw. In a few moments the result of our quest would be known to us.

“Well, Cecil, let’s have it off,” said Blakeslee after a brief period of hesitation, during which each of us looked at the pale face and questioning eyes of the other.

Bending, Blakeslee grasped one end of the lid and I took the other. As we lifted this, I kept my gaze on the metal cover until we laid it on the floor. Then, for the first time, I turned my eyes to that which its removal revealed.

“By Jove!” Blakeslee gasped, and stopped.

Well might we have been astonished at the object that now presented itself to our view--the body of a soldier, clad in a scarlet jacket and blue trousers. The head was large, and on the young, handsome features there was an expression of dignified serenity that one might have expected to find on the face of a sleeping Charlemagne.

“Why, the man looks as if he might have been alive this morning!” I gasped.

Kneeling beside the still figure, Blakeslee began to unbutton the jacket with such gentleness that one would have thought he was afraid of waking the sleeper.

“They cut his head a bit,” mused Blakeslee, as he glanced at the dark hair critically.

He had scarcely spoken, when, throwing back the folds of the jacket, he exposed the bare torso of the still figure.

“That’s what did it, though,” whispered my soldier friend, pointing to a round, bluish hole in the middle of the chest. “He was facing the brown devils when he fell--one of the Queen’s own lads was this one, Cecil.”

But my gaze had wandered lower. There I saw two lines--one perpendicular, the other horizontal--that formed a cross, made, as I knew by the embalmers. These lines had been roughly stitched, but some of the catgut threads had been torn away.

Blakeslee gave utterance to a little exclamation of dismay.

“Some one has been here before us,” I muttered between chattering teeth.

“Give me the scissors,” directed Blakeslee grimly.

I passed them to him, then, with trembling limbs, I, too, knelt beside the box.

A few moments later, when my friend again closed the scarlet jacket over the cold breast, I, sitting limply on the floor, thrust into the inner pocket of my coat a hard, oblong object that was sewed in a little bag of oiled silk which exhaled the odor of fragrant spices--a bag that I did not attempt to open then.

I tottered to my feet, and, as Blakeslee took one of the dead man’s hands, I grasped the other.

“Good-night, old chap,” Blakeslee murmured, addressing the dead soldier. “Perhaps, some morning, the same bugle music will wake us both.”

As carefully as we had opened the three boxes, we closed them again. We made no undue haste to leave the place. To the dead we gave all that was its due. Every screw that we returned to its place was well driven, and when the big box had been thrust back into the niche, we replaced the stones as well as we were able. I resolved, however, that more expert hands than ours soon should be entrusted with this task.

It was after nine o’clock when, after thanking the rector, we returned to the railway station, just in time to catch a train for London. It was six in the morning when, sitting at my desk, with Blakeslee at my side, I severed the threads that had closed the little silken bag.

Within the bag I found a roll of chamois-skin, and in this a roll--a diamond.

Not until I shall lie in that deep sleep that sealed the eyes of the red-jacketed hero I saw at Hetley shall I cease to feel a thrill of fear and wonder as I recall the effect produced by the object that the unfolding chamois-skin disclosed to my view.

Catching, holding and multiplying the rays of the lamplight that fell upon it, the marvelous gem suddenly seemed to become the focal point of ten thousand dazzling beams--a whiteheated thing that was being slowly consumed in its own blaze of glory--a self-damned soul on which Heaven and hell had heaped their fires.

As I tottered backward, Blakeslee grasped my arm. Looking at him then, I knew that his long face mirrored the lividness and horror of my own.

“Cecil, we must stop it!” he gasped, faintly. “If it is seen----! Come, come, man--we must put it out!”

We glanced around us with apprehensive, searching eyes. The shades were lowered and the doors were closed, but we asked ourselves whether it was possible that no eyes other than our own should have seen this outburst of supernatural radiance.

For several moments my courage seemed to fail, and I could not bring myself to the point of touching the dazzling stone. At length, however, I reached for the chamois-skin, and, after dropping this over the gem, I placed the diamond in a drawer of my desk.

“You can’t keep it there,” said Blakeslee in a hoarse whisper.

“No,” I said. “To-morrow--to-day----”

“If spies are hovering around you the way they hovered around your father, England is too small a place for that. You must get it somewhere----”

“I’ve thought all that out, old man,” I answered, firmly.

“What are you going to do with it?” my friend demanded, curiously.

“I won’t tell you that,” I replied.

An expression of wonder leaped into Blakeslee’s eyes.

“You--you mean you dare not trust me!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” I answered, promptly. “I do not trust myself. If it is known that you and I possess this secret, there is one who may have it in his power to get it from us. When we find the other stone we will see them together. Meantime, both you and I must be ignorant of the hiding-place of these.”

Blakeslee nodded.

“You’re afraid of Glyncamp, then,” he said, meditatively. “Well, you are right. It is best that neither of us should know. But how are you going to manage it?”

“I’ll be out of England within the next twenty hours.”

Blakeslee frowned.

“You are going to the Continent?” he asked.

“No,” I answered, shortly. “But if you are willing to join me in my search for the other stone, we will set out five months from to-day. Until that day we must not meet.”

“How long will we be gone?” Blakeslee asked.

“Three months.”

“I can get a furlough for that period, I suppose,” he murmured, musingly. He paused; then, with a little shrug of the shoulders, he held out both hands to me, as he added: “All right, then, Cecil--furlough or no furlough, you can count on me.”

I grasped his hands.

“And you are going to give the gems to the Pasha for the girl?” he murmured, dubiously.

I nodded.

“Well, Cecil, either the girl is indeed an houri, or you’re a fool,” Blakeslee muttered as he turned away.

Ten hours later I boarded a west-bound Cunarder at Queenstown. In a belt I carried one of the lost eyes of the Rajiid Buddha.

During the six days occupied by the voyage, I formulated my plans for the quest of the second diamond and the protection of the first.

Several days before Blakeslee and I had gone to Hetley, I had seen in an English newspaper an account of some of the adventures of an American traveler named Forsythe. This man had made travel a vocation, and, in the employ of scientists and institutions of learning, he had brought from various parts of the world objects of interest that now formed parts of famous collections. He was described as a man of fertile resource and unimpeachable integrity. I had heard of him before, and there was something in his personal characteristics and mode of life that had appealed to my imagination, and sometimes I had even gone so far as to envy him his experiences.

I now reasoned that, taking advantage of this man’s resourcefulness and reputation, I might cause the diamond to be removed from India in a manner that would prevent anyone from suspecting the real purpose of a visit to Rajiid. More than this, I also conceived the idea, not only of keeping Forsythe in ignorance of the fact that he was to have the second diamond in his possession, but compelling him to be the temporary, and unsuspecting, custodian of the stone I had found at Hetley. After having Forsythe conceal the Hetley stone, I would arrange with Dulmer, my solicitor, to have an agent remove the sealed package containing it from the place in which it might be kept by the absent Forsythe. Not even should Dulmer know the nature of the packet’s contents.

My instructions to Dulmer also bade him be prepared to have in the United States a man who, as soon as he should receive the word to do so, might take forcible possession of all objects that I might cause Forsythe to take to that country. The signal for these double thefts of my own property would be a report of my death to Dulmer. Each detail of the plan was thought out carefully.

To most persons this plan, with all its elaboration of details, might have appeared not only unnecessary, but altogether absurd. But the strange power of Glyncamp had impressed me with so much respect and alarm that, with so much at stake, I resolved to leave nothing to chance. I was resolved that no man in the world should fall into Glyncamp’s power, who in sickness or in health, would be able to form a mental picture of the true custodian of the Hetley stone or the place in which it might be concealed.

Upon arriving in New York, I engaged a room in a house occupied by a family that was in reduced circumstances. Assuming the name of Alfred Ferguson, I allowed my beard to grow, and, dressing only in cheap garments, I kept out of the streets as much as possible. Inquiries which I made concerning Forsythe revealed that he still was in South America, and probably would not return to the United States for two months.

I next proceeded to address myself to a task which I had set for myself while I still was on the steamer. Obtaining some plaster of paris I made a cast of the Hetley diamond. Then, taking this cast to a Maiden Lane lapidary, I directed him to supply me with two paste counterfeits. I had thought that this was a comparatively simple undertaking, but I was soon undeceived. The lapidary told me that the work would have to be done in Switzerland, and that it would be impossible for me to have the imitation stones in less than two months. I gave the order, left a deposit on it, and went out of the shop.

I had been in New York only ten days when I received from Blakeslee, the only man who knew my address, a cipher despatch that read as follows:

Parson says Glyn knows Hetley affair. Burglars have ransacked your
London apartments and spies are watching the house. Keep close where
you are, and look sharp. I am not suspected.

(Signed) B

The three weeks that followed were uneventful, and I spent most of my time in my room. I heard that Forsythe was on his way to New York, and I wrote to my solicitors to arrange to have fifty thousand dollars placed to my credit in a Philadelphia bank. Two weeks later this sum was at my disposal.

At last my patience was rewarded. The daily newspapers reported Forsythe’s arrival, and from the Maiden Lane lapidary I received the two paste stones that had been cut for me in Switzerland.

The lapidary appeared to be enthusiastic over the merits of the imitations when he greeted me.

“Were there two such real diamonds in existence, they would be worth millions, sir,” he said.

To give the lapidary his due, I must confess that the paste gems were so excellently wrought that they filled me with astonishment, for I never had suspected that the art of counterfeiting precious stones could attain such wonderful results. A man would, of course, have been little better than a fool to have been deceived by these paste baubles, but I scarcely had expected to see any brilliancy at all. The forms of the stones and a superior quality of material were sufficient to meet all my requirements.

I expressed thorough satisfaction with the manner in which the work had been done, and willingly paid the price that had been agreed upon.

I next had a tinsmith make for me a cylinder six inches long and three inches in diameter. In this I placed the Hetley diamond, carefully packed; then, in accordance with my instructions, the tinsmith sealed both ends. This done, I shaved off the beard I had been wearing, provided myself with twenty-five thousand dollars, and called upon Forsythe.

The incidents connected with that interview, as well as those that had to do with Forsythe’s journey to and from Rajiid, have been related by that gentleman himself. I, therefore, will restrict myself to a relation of my own experiences subsequent to that interview.

Upon receiving from Forsythe’s messenger the key to the unknown safe-deposit box, I delivered it to a New York lawyer who had been named by Dulmer as his representative. Meantime, however, a detective, who was unknown to this lawyer, in accordance with my London solicitor’s directions, had kept a careful watch on Forsythe and had followed him to the office of the safe-deposit company. This detective then sent the name and address of the company to Dulmer, who, it will be remembered, knew nothing whatever of any diamond in which either my father or I had been interested.

Embarking on the same vessel that took Forsythe to Europe, I spent nearly all my days and nights in my stateroom in the second cabin. I was in my stateroom on the _Arran_ when Forsythe boarded that steamer.

Blakeslee, having obtained his furlough, secured a stateroom near the second cabin quarters on the _Arran_. For weeks he had been indefatigably working in my interests, without causing any of the spies who were following me to suspect that he was in any way interested in my movements. To him three detectives, in his employ, had described the appearance of several of the spies who had been seen lurking around my former haunts.

On the _Arran_ were several Hindus. One of these conformed with the description of a Hindu to whom certain spies had reported. Apparently this man, having failed in his mission to London, was returning to India without the knowledge of the fact that I was on the same vessel. Chance, however, led me in his way one night when I had determined to have a few words with Blakeslee.

My friend saw that I was recognized, and in obedience to a warning signal from him, I retreated. That night the Hindu died under mysterious circumstances. He was only an unknown Hindu, so the officers of the _Arran_ made no investigation. All happened very conveniently.

The discovery of this spy caused me to change my plans. Despite what I had told Forsythe--and I must confess that my representations to that gentleman were sometimes rather far from the truth--I had intended to let him go to Rajiid alone, while Blakeslee and I took another route. I now decided, however, to have Blakeslee and Forsythe follow me.

At Arungabad I found two brothers--Parsees--who, like other members of their sect, had little respect for Buddhism or its disciples. The elder of these brothers was named Ahmed-Kal. The younger was Bunda. I had six servants, but of these the two Parsees were the only ones whom I felt I could trust.

I felt reasonably certain, until I drew near Rajiid, that I was successful in keeping clear of spies. Upon my arrival at Rajiid, I visited the holy well and its temple, as any other traveler might have done. I watched a jaboowallah perform his tricks, and then passed on my way. While in the temple I was careful not to display any undue interest, but I had little difficulty in marking the jade idol in a niche near the ceiling.

After leaving Rajiid, I proceeded to a village about ten or twelve miles beyond. Here, pretending to be ill, I halted to await the arrival of Forsythe and Blakeslee at Rajiid. In due time this was reported to me.

Thus far I had believed myself to be free from suspicion, and already I had begun to laugh at the fears which had caused me to make such elaborate preparations for my quest for the hidden gem. I had little difficulty in convincing myself that, without Forsythe and Blakeslee, I might have purchased the jade idol and made my way out of India.

Satisfied, then, that my purpose was not suspected, I despatched Ahmed-Kal to Forsythe with a note directing him to purchase certain articles and return home by way of Calcutta. By the time Ahmed-Kal returned, however, I was undeceived. Scores of native, cat-like eyes had been watching me for hours.

It was Bunda who first told me this--Bunda, the brother of Ahmed-Kal. From one of my alarmed native attendants he had learned that I had come to Rajiid to take from their place of concealment the lost eyes of the bronze Buddha.

When Bunda told me this, I laughed at his fears, but I put in his hands a little parcel wrapped in khaki-cloth, and bade him take my horse and set out for Bombay. I told him that fortune awaited him there if he delivered to a certain man, whose name I gave, the parcel that I entrusted to his keeping. I explained also that if he betrayed his trust the soldiers of the White King would flay him, for that which I had given to him was the White King’s own. The parcel contained the imitation gems.

When I saw that the man believed me, I provided him with funds for his long journey, for as fast as one horse succumbed to speed he was to purchase another--the fleetest he could obtain. When Bunda left me I awaited, with all the calmness I could command, the hour that would bring to me the report of Forsythe’s departure from Rajiid.

But, before that hour came, the blow which I dreaded had fallen, and it had come from an unexpected source. Bunda was scarcely more than a dozen miles from Rajiid when I was suddenly set upon, beaten insensible, and bound by my own attendants. It was in vain that Ahmed-Kal tried to defend me, and even he suspected for a time that his brother, knowing of the danger, had sought safety in flight.

When I recovered consciousness I was bruised and bleeding, and was in the temple grounds where Forsythe found me. Before me stood the jaboowallah who had exhibited his skill as a wonder-worker when I was leaving the Rajiid temple. Addressing me in excellent English, he questioned me shrewdly concerning the object of my journey to India, and my reasons for visiting Rajiid. I told him I was a traveler, bound for the military station at Shoorgai. His eyes flashed ominously while I was speaking. When I finished he said:

“The sahib lies. He is Lord Galonfield, and he has come to us to profane and rob our shrines. Unless he tells us where we may find the sacred gems that were once the eyes in Buddha’s image, he will speak no more.”

I shrugged my shoulders as I answered:

“I have told you that my name is Ferguson. The hiding-place of the lost eyes is unknown to me. But if, doubting what I say to you, you find courage to shed my blood, there will come to Rajiid men with coats as red as the blood you now design to spill.”

“The White King’s soldiers will come in vain,” the jaboowallah answered, calmly. “Though I shall cleave the sahib’s head from his shoulders, yet shall he not die except by his own act, nor shall the soldiers find him. Has the sahib any wish to express before he dies?”

I hesitated.

“Yes,” I said. “I am informed that, since I left your temple, another traveler has come to Rajiid--Forsythe Sahib. Let him see my body, that he may report my death to my friends in England. It is better that they should know that I am dead than that they should spend their fortunes seeking me.”

I saw the light of craftiness playing in the jaboowallah’s eyes. I knew his thought, and that Forsythe would be brought to me before I died. I knew, too, that I would not be allowed to die till they had the secret from me.

“It shall be as the sahib has said,” the jaboowallah replied, but, as he spoke, my heart grew still, for he unsheathed a sword.

At the feet of the jaboowallah several natives now spread a square piece of white cloth, and eight or ten brown, sinewy hands forced me to sit on it in a cross-legged position. This done, the natives, retreating, left me sitting alone, at the jaboowallah’s feet.

“If the sahib wants to count the minutes and hours that precede the coming of his friends let him sit still as the great Buddha on his throne,” the jaboowallah said.

His eyes now gleamed like fiery coals, and, as they bent their gaze upon me, I felt my will go out. The jaboowallah raised his arm, and thrice in the moonlight I saw the flashing of his swift-circling blade. A keen pain quivered in my neck and set every nerve in my body tingling.

“And so shall the sahib await the coming of his friends,” said the jaboowallah as, sheathing his sword, he turned from me.

A few minutes later the sound of retreating feet died away. I was alone.

I was not deceived. The wound I had received was nothing more than a mere scratch, however, which this strange man’s art had caused to completely encircle my neck. It marked the beginning of the series of tortures to which I was to be subjected in the course of an attempt to wring my secret from me.

I saw Ahmed-Kal, trembling with fright, mount and ride away in the direction of Rajiid. For more than an hour, conscious of the fact that I was watched by scores of unseen eyes, I sat there, never stirring.

At length, from over a rise in the road, there came to my expectant ears the welcome sounds of approaching hoofbeats. Then a little cavalcade came into view. At its head rode Forsythe, Blakeslee, and Ahmed-Kal.

I heard the horses stop in the road, and a few minutes later I saw my friends approaching me.

I knew no word that might pass between us would escape the ears of spies who were concealed in the foliage around me, but I was resolved that Forsythe and Blakeslee should not be suspected of being the real custodians of the precious gem that was concealed in the jade image.

But, shrewd as my friends usually were, this mysterious situation now disconcerted them. They thought that I, believing myself to be decapitated, had lost my reason. Despite my protests, Forsythe called to his attendants, and Blakeslee drew his revolver. A score of armed natives leaped upon them. Forsythe went down, but Blakeslee, fighting like a very demon, shot four men and broke away. He got to where the horses had been left, and, mounting his own--an animal that had been carefully chosen--he made off in the direction of Shoorgai.

Ahmed-Kal, who had attempted to defend himself, was beheaded. Forsythe was borne away insensible.

An hour later, while strung up to a beam by my hands, and with heavy stones bound to my feet, I confessed--confessed that I had found the lost diamonds under the coping of a well near which I had encamped, and that Bunda, the Parsee, was bearing them to Bombay.

Further tortures were now suspended, and I was imprisoned in a dingy cave, scooped in the side of a hill. From one of my guards I learned that Forsythe had been released, and had left Rajiid. Why the jaboowallah caused his vocal cords to be cut I cannot tell. I suppose, however, it was the brown devil’s method of punishing him for calling to his attendants while he was in the sacred precincts of the temple.

I knew that, as a result of my pretended confession, riders and telegrams were being despatched to many villages in an attempt to head off the fleeing Bunda. A week passed, however, before I was summoned to the presence of the jaboowallah and there confronted with the paste stones I had obtained from Switzerland.

I was asked whether or not these were the stones I had found in the wall. I replied that they were.

Never have I beheld such a picture of chagrin as was presented by the jaboowallah at that moment. He believed that the famed eyes of the Rajiid Buddha had been nothing more than the imitation stones that now lay before him.

I was told that I was free. Two hours later I was in the act of mounting the horse which was to bear me away from Rajiid when I was again assaulted. Once more I was thrust into the foul cave, and there, deprived of food and water, my sufferings soon became almost unendurable. In a week I felt that I was on the verge of becoming a raving maniac, then they gave me water and I was led out into the light. Something--whether it was the sun or a flash of burnished copper--suddenly dazzled me, and I fell.

When I recovered consciousness, I found myself sitting on the floor of a squalid room, and muttering incoherently.

“Give the sahib food,” a voice was saying.

The speaker was the jaboowallah, and, as he passed out of the door in which he had been standing, I saw a European approach him. A moment later the stranger disappeared, but my single glance was enough.

The stranger was Glyncamp!

Had I betrayed my secret? Whimpering and laughing like a foolish child, I cried for food.

It mattered not how much the American mind-reader had learned from me, the knowledge came to him too late.

A week later, shattered in health and mind, I crawled out of the dark cave in which I had been confined. Where were my guards, and why had no one brought me food? As I stood, blinking the warm sunlight, I saw a man in khaki. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. The man was still before me, sitting on a stone, with a rifle across his knees. I called to him, and he turned. He shouted and discharged his gun in the air, and then ran toward me. It was a British soldier whom I never had seen before.

“Are you Galonfield?” he asked.

“Yes--yes--I’m--” I began falteringly.

The man, bringing his heels together, saluted me as if I had been an officer.

“Your friend, Lieutenant Blakeslee, is here, sir,” he said.

Sky, trees, and distant native huts seemed to be flung together in a mighty mass, and I was dazzled by the whirling colors. I tottered forward, and, as I fell, the soldier caught me in his arms. When I came to my senses, I was lying on a camp cot, and Blakeslee was bending over me.

“What has happened?” I managed to gasp.

“I got to Shoorgai, and brought down the boys,” he said. “For two weeks we’ve combed the district in our search for you. You are twenty miles from where I saw you last. The jaboowallah fled--saw the game was up, I suppose.”

“And Glyncamp?” I asked anxiously.

“Oh, Glyncamp hasn’t been here, old man.”

“Yes,” I muttered, weakly. “Glyncamp has been here and has learned all I knew.”

As soon as I was able to make the journey, Blakeslee and I returned to England. There I learned that my plans had not miscarried. The jade image and the cylinder were safe in New York.

Meantime, Forsythe had been incarcerated in an American insane asylum. Not knowing anything of the manner in which he had been persecuted, I did not suspect that he was at that moment perfectly sane and the victim of the jaboowallah’s spies.

The very thought of the gems themselves was hateful to me, and I resolved to get rid of them at the earliest possible opportunity. To this end I sent to Meschid a letter that read as follows:

YOUR EXCELLENCY: Having succeeded in performing the task which you
set for me when we last met in London, I am now prepared to deliver
to you the articles which you demanded in exchange for the honor I
then sought at your hands. If, therefore, you will meet me in London
or Paris with the person who constitutes the third party to our
understanding, all the conditions of our compact will be promptly
executed.

Three weeks passed before I received a reply. The Pasha said that, in order to fulfil the conditions we had agreed upon, it would be necessary for me to present myself at his residence in Constantinople and there deliver to him the articles which, as had been stipulated, he should receive.

But I was still a marked man, and there were strong reasons for my hesitation to go beyond the pale of English law and the protection which it affords even to the humblest of England’s sons and daughters.

I now sent to an attaché of the British embassy at Constantinople a letter in which I explained that I was betrothed to Meschid’s daughter, Pauline. I also said that, owing to my failure to get in communication with her, I desired to have agents employed to discover her present whereabouts. The answer I received to this was a telegram that read:

Pauline is Meschid’s stepdaughter. He married her mother, the widow
of the late Prince Maranotti, of Basselanto, Italy. The mother died
two years ago. Pauline fled to her stepbrother, the present Prince
Maranotti. Her whereabouts are unknown to us.

At the end of a fortnight I was in Italy. Leaving Naples, I started for Basselanto. I had covered only a portion of the journey, however, when, in a newspaper that came to my hands, I saw a startling piece of intelligence.

Prince Maranotti had been murdered at Basselanto only a few hours before!

The dead man’s body, bruised and scratched, apparently by human hands, had been found at the foot of a cliff over which, it was thought, it had been hurled by the murderer.

Two men were suspected of having committed the crime. Of these one was a man with a singularly grotesque face, whom no one in the vicinity of Basselanto remembered having seen before the day on which the Prince had met his death. A few hours before the body was found, however, he had been seen hurrying to the station, apparently in a great state of agitation.

The second person under suspicion was an American college professor--Pietro Maranotti--a cousin to the man who had been slain.

Arriving at Basselanto, I made inquiries concerning Pauline. From servants I learned that she had not been seen at Basselanto since, as an infant, she had been taken away by her mother, an Englishwoman, who, having been married to the former Prince, had fled from his cruelty.

Despite all the privations to which I had been subjected since I had undertaken the quest of the Rajiid diamonds, my love for the beautiful young woman to whom Meschid had introduced me, had been strengthened rather than diminished. I asked myself why, if she was in trouble, she had made no attempt to communicate with me. I resolved that to the solution of this mystery I would address myself with even more energy than I had displayed in my search for the gems which, as it had been arranged, were to constitute the price of Meschid Pasha’s consent to our marriage. I was determined to employ all my time and whatever fortune I could command in finding the woman I loved.

Once more I had recourse to detectives. These I directed to trace the movements of Pauline from the time she escaped from Meschid’s harem. It was not long before these men reported that they were crossing the trails of other detectives who were engaged in a similar search. Then I learned that the employer of these was no other than the mysterious Glyncamp, of whom I had seen or heard nothing since I saw him in India.

My available funds were growing low, and I decided to sell the diamonds for which I had risked so much and for which Meschid Pasha had nothing to offer now. By doing this I would attain two objects. First, they would yield to me a sum sufficient to enable me to liquidate all the debts I had contracted, and, secondly, I would cease to be an object of the persecution of the unseen enemies who still threatened me. Having arrived at this determination, I sailed for the United States.

Upon my arrival in New York I went to the best-known jeweler in that city. To this man I told the history of the Rajiid stones, and offered them for sale. He replied that he was unwilling to buy such costly gems as a matter of speculation, but that he would try to find a purchaser. A few days later he wrote to me, requesting me to call on Hewitt Westfall.

It was with Mr. Westfall that I went to the vault in which the cylinder and the jade image were deposited, and it was in his study that the cylinder was opened and the jade image broken. There, for the first time since the Indian Mutiny, the wonderful gems flashed together, and it is to Mr. Westfall that they now belong.

To the purchaser of the lost eyes of Rajiid’s Buddha I told the story of my quest for them. Strangely enough, he appeared to have heard something of one or two of the persons I had mentioned, and he offered to cooperate with me in my search for Pauline if I would consent to submit to him certain reports that I had received from my agents. This I did not hesitate to do.

Two weeks ago Mr. Westfall invited me to this dinner, and at that time he expressed the belief that he would be able to number among his guests the young woman whom I had known as Meschid’s daughter. He has kept his word, and now, in the presence of those who have heard the story of my adventures, I offer to her who inspired me with the determination to undertake them the love, name, and fortune which, many months ago, I offered to her in the London house of Meschid Pasha.

As the Decapitated Man finished speaking, he rose from his chair and gazed earnestly toward where the Veiled Aeronaut sat with bowed head, at the foot of the table. But from the unseen lips of the heroine of his romantic tale there came no sound.

The silence was broken at length by Hewitt Westfall, who, rising, said:

“It is unfortunate that the endings of many true love stories should be so uncertain that we have to guess at them, but in this so much yet remains to be told that the story may be said to be scarcely more than begun. Even the lady to whom his lordship just has addressed himself has much to learn from others before she will be able to tell him whether or not joy or sorrow will crown the efforts he has made to win her.”

The Fugitive Bridegroom, whose face now wore a grayish pallor, half rose from his seat. Glaring at the Decapitated Man, he asked, in a voice that trembled with emotion:

“Do I understand, sir, that the lady to whom you have referred as ‘Pauline’ is--is my wife?”

“Your wife!” exclaimed the Decapitated Man, looking wonderingly at the Veiled Aeronaut.

“No,” said the Sentimental Gargoyle, in a tone of decision. “Though the lady may have given our friend, the Fugitive Bridegroom, some reason to believe that he was her husband, I protest that she is not his wife.”

“And I maintain, sir----” began the Fugitive Bridegroom, impatiently.

“Well, well, let the lady tell her own story,” interrupted the Nervous Physician, pettishly. “Until then----”

“Stop, gentlemen,” said Westfall, calmly. “All of you shall be heard in good time, and it will be from the Veiled Aeronaut that we will hear next. But, as it is now well after midnight, we shall be compelled to wait until we reassemble in the evening. Meantime, according to our arrangement, there must be no discussion of the subjects that are reserved for after dinner.”

The guests thereupon rose, and, with bewildered faces, made their way to their respective staterooms.

Breakfast was not served until nine o’clock. The One-eyed Duckhunter, accompanied by the Decapitated Man, went out after ducks, while the Whispering Gentleman, the Homicidal Professor and the Hypochondriacal Painter sat down with Westfall to a game of bridge. The Fugitive Bridegroom and the Veiled Aeronaut remained in their staterooms, and the Sentimental Gargoyle found employment in writing verses on a little table that was placed for him near the sarcophagus containing the mummy of the Princess Tushepu, of the Twentieth Dynasty.

At three o’clock all except the Veiled Aeronaut sat down to luncheon. Dinner was served at half past seven, and, when this was finished, Westfall announced that the Veiled Aeronaut was prepared to relate the story of her adventures.

The guests then seated themselves in comfortable attitudes and the Veiled Aeronaut began her story.