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
