"Hi, sir!" said Bulger as Desmond came up to them: "this here bit o'

velvet is explained at last. Mr. Toley, he slit it with his cutlass, sir, and never did I see a man so down in the mouth when he knowed what was under it. 'T'ent nothing at all, sir; just three letters; and what for he went and burnt them three letters into the back of his hand 'twould beat a Daniel to explain.

"'F u r,' sir, that's what they spells; but whether 'tis rabbit skin or fox I can't say, though 'tis most likely fox, knowing the man."

Desmond stooped and looked at the unclad right hand. The letters F U R were branded livid below the knuckles.

"He was always quoting Latin, Bulger," he said. "'Fur' is a Latin word: it means 'thief.'"

"Which I might have knowed it, sir, only I think as how the man that did the stampin' might have done it in plain English. I don't hold with these foreign lingos, sir; there allers seems something sly and deceivin' about em. No right man 'ud ever think 'fur' meant 'thief'! Thief an' all, sir, he's dead. Mr. Toley and me'll put him away decent like: and it won't do him no harm if we just says 'Our Father' over the grave."

Desmond was turning away when three of his men came into the compound, two grasping a Frenchman by the arms, the third a black boy. The former Desmond recognized as the man whom he had seen expostulating with Diggle; the latter was Scipio Africanus, looking scared and miserable.

The men explained that, pursuing the fugitives, they had captured their prisoners in the grove. The Frenchman at once addressed Desmond in broken English. He said that he had tried in vain to dissuade Diggle from his attempt to capture the ladies. The party had been sent in advance by Monsieur Law to announce his coming. He was at Patna with a considerable body of French corps designed for the support of the Nawab. As he was speaking the Frenchman caught sight of Diggle's exposed hand. He started, with an exclamation of surprise. Then in answer to Desmond's question he revealed the secret that had so long perplexed him.

Seven years before, he said, in December, 1750, there was a brilliant foreigner named Peloti among the officers of Major de la Touche, a young soldier who had been singled out by Dupleix, the French Governor of Pondicherry, as a military genius of the first order. Peloti was with the French army when, less than four thousand in number, it fell upon the vast hordes of Nadir Jang near Gingi and won the battle that set Muzaffar Jang on the throne of the Deccan and marked the zenith of Dupleix's success. The new Nawab, in gratitude to the French for the services rendered him, sent to Dupleix a present of a million rupees, and a casket of jewels worth half as much again. This casket was given to Peloti to deliver: he had abused his trust by abstracting the gem of the collection, a beautiful diamond; and the theft being accidentally discovered, Dupleix in his rage ordered the thief to be branded on the right hand with the word 'fur,' and drummed him out of the French service.

The identity of Peloti with Diggle was not suspected by the French, and when Diggle a few months back offered his services to Bussy, their commander, they were eagerly accepted, for his evident knowledge of Clive's movements and of affairs in Calcutta promised to be exceedingly valuable. None of the French then in the Deccan knew him: and though they remarked his curious habit of wearing a fingerless glove on his right hand, no one connected it with the half-forgotten story of the stolen diamond.

Desmond thanked the Frenchman for his information.

"I am sorry to keep you a prisoner, Monsieur," he said; "but I must trouble you to return with me to Murshidabad. I can promise you good treatment from Colonel Clive."

The Frenchman smiled, shrugged, and exclaimed: "Eh bien! La guerre est la guerre!"

Remembering Coja Solomon, Desmond asked Toley to search Diggle's body before burying it. But nothing was found, except a little money. The Armenian's property had evidently been left under guard in the grove, and was doubtless, by this time, far away, in the possession of one or other of Diggle's runagate followers.

At nightfall the party set off. Closed chairs had been provided for the ladies, and these were carried in the midst, Bulger on one side, Toley on the other, and Desmond behind. One person whom Desmond had expected to take with him was absent: Scipio Africanus, on seeing the dead body of his master, had uttered one heartrending howl and fled. Desmond never saw him again. He reflected that, villainous as Diggle had proved to be, he had at least been able to win the affection of his servant.

On the way they met Coja Solomon, who, on learning of the disappearance of his valuables, heaped abuse upon Desmond and went away wringing his hands. Traveling slowly, by easy stages, and only by night, it took the party three days to reach Murshidabad. Desmond found that Clive had entered the city two days before and taken up his abode at the Murda Bagh. Mir Jafar had been accepted as Nawab, and nothing had been heard of Sirajuddaula.

Desmond first sought out Major Coote.

"By George, Burke!" said that officer, "Colonel Clive is in a towering rage at your long absence; he expected your return long ago. And you ought to know that Colonel Clive in a rage is not quite as mild as milk."

"I'm afraid I must brave his anger," said Desmond. "I've found Mr.

Merriman's ladies."

"You have?"

"Yes, and brought them back with me. And Peloti will trouble us no more: we had to fight for the ladies, and Bulger killed him. Won't Mr. Clive forgive me?"

"I can't answer for Mr. Clive; no one can say what he will do. But I tell you one thing: you'll put Warren Hastings' nose out of joint. You know he was sweet on Merriman's daughter."

"No, I didn't know it. I don't see what that has to do with me."

"Don't you, egad!" said Coote with a laugh. "Sure, my boy, you'll see it before long. Well, I won't keep you to hear your story. Go to Mr. Clive at once; and let me know what happens."

Desmond found Clive in company with Mr. Watts, and Rai Durlabh, Mr.

Scrafton and Omichand. He had some difficulty in obtaining admittance; only his representation that he bore important news prevailed with the darwan. He learned afterwards that the great bankers, the Seths, had just left the meeting, after it had been decided that, owing to the depletion of the treasury, only one-half of the immense sums promised to Clive and the English in Mir Jafar's treaty could be paid at once, the remainder to follow in three years.

Desmond entered the room just in time to hear Clive say to Scrafton:

"It is now time to undeceive Omichand."

Mr. Scrafton went up to the Sikh, and said quietly in Hindustani:

"Omichand, the red paper is a trick: you are to have nothing."

Omichand stood for a moment dazed: then he fell back in a faint and was carried by his attendants from the room. The shock had unhinged the poor man's reason: he lingered insane for eighteen months and died.

At the time Desmond knew nothing of the deceit that had been practised on him; but in the light of his after knowledge he understood the strange expression that clouded Clive's face as the old man was carried away: a look of pity mingled with contempt. Catching sight of Desmond, the great soldier flashed out:

"What do you mean, sir, by absenting yourself so long? I sent you in advance because I thought you would be speedy. A snail would have gone more quickly."

"I am sorry, sir," said Desmond; "I was unexpectedly delayed. I had got nearly as far as Rajmahal when I learned the whereabouts of Mrs.

Merriman. She was in hiding with Surendra Nath, one of Mr. Merriman's men. I heard that Diggle--Peloti, sir--was about to attempt her recapture, and I felt that you yourself, had you been in my place, would have tried to save the ladies."

Clive grunted.

"Go on, sir," he said.

"We found the place just in time, sir. Diggle came up with a couple of Frenchmen and a troop of native horse. We beat them off, and I have brought the ladies here."

"And forgotten your instructions?"

"No, sir. Monsieur Law was advancing from Patna: Diggle was coming ahead to inform the Nawab of his approach. But the whole country knows of your victory, and I fancy Monsieur Law will come no further."

"And Diggle?"

"He was killed in the fight, sir."

"Indeed! And how many did his men muster?"

"Nearly sixty, sir."

"And yours?"

"A score of Sepoys, sir; but I had two seamen with me: Bulger, whom you know; and Mr. Toley, an American, mate of one of Mr. Merriman's ships.

They were worth a dozen others."

Clive grunted again.

"Well, go and tell Mrs. Merriman I shall be glad to wait on her. And look here, Burke: you may consider yourself a captain in the Company's service from this day. Come now, I'm very busy: go and give Mrs. Merriman my message, and take care that next time you are sent on special service you are not drawn off on any such mad expedition. Come to me tomorrow."

Desmond trod on air as he left the house. Clive's impulsiveness had never before seemed to him such an admirable quality.

As he went into the street he became aware, from the excited state of the crowd, that something had happened. Meeting a Sepoy he inquired, and learned that Sirajuddaula had just been brought into the city. The luckless Nawab had arrived in his boat close to Rajmahal, and with the recklessness that characterized him, he had gone ashore while his servants prepared a meal. Though disguised in mean clothes he had been recognized by a fakir, who happened to be at the very spot where he landed. The man had a grudge against him; his ears and nose had been cut off some time before at the Nawab's order. Hastening into Rajmahal he had informed the governor, who sent a guard at once to seize the unhappy prince and bring him to Murshidabad.