It was impossible to deny that he had met my difficulty fairly; thanks
to his superior knowledge of the Indian character--and thanks to his
not having had hundreds of other Wills to think of since Colonel
Herncastle's time!
"So far, so good," resumed Mr. Murthwaite. "The first chance the Indians
had of seizing the Diamond was a chance lost, on the day when they were
committed to the prison at Frizinghall. When did the second chance offer
itself? The second chance offered itself--as I am in a condition to
prove--while they were still in confinement."
He took out his pocket-book, and opened it at a particular leaf, before
he went on.
"I was staying," he resumed, "with some friends at Frizinghall, at the
time. A day or two before the Indians were set free (on a Monday, I
think), the governor of the prison came to me with a letter. It had
been left for the Indians by one Mrs. Macann, of whom they had hired the
lodging in which they lived; and it had been delivered at Mrs. Macann's
door, in ordinary course of post, on the previous morning. The prison
authorities had noticed that the postmark was 'Lambeth,' and that the
address on the outside, though expressed in correct English, was, in
form, oddly at variance with the customary method of directing a letter.
On opening it, they had found the contents to be written in a foreign
language, which they rightly guessed at as Hindustani. Their object in
coming to me was, of course, to have the letter translated to them.
I took a copy in my pocket-book of the original, and of my
translation--and there they are at your service."
He handed me the open pocket-book. The address on the letter was the
first thing copied. It was all written in one paragraph, without any
attempt at punctuation, thus: "To the three Indian men living with the
lady called Macann at Frizinghall in Yorkshire." The Hindoo characters
followed; and the English translation appeared at the end, expressed in
these mysterious words: "In the name of the Regent of the Night, whose seat is on the Antelope,
whose arms embrace the four corners of the earth.
"Brothers, turn your faces to the south, and come to me in the street of
many noises, which leads down to the muddy river.
"The reason is this.
"My own eyes have seen it."
There the letter ended, without either date or signature. I handed it
back to Mr. Murthwaite, and owned that this curious specimen of Hindoo
correspondence rather puzzled me.
"I can explain the first sentence to you," he said; "and the conduct
of the Indians themselves will explain the rest. The god of the moon is
represented, in the Hindoo mythology, as a four-armed deity, seated on
an antelope; and one of his titles is the regent of the night. Here,
then, to begin with, is something which looks suspiciously like an
indirect reference to the Moonstone. Now, let us see what the Indians
did, after the prison authorities had allowed them to receive their
letter. On the very day when they were set free they went at once to the
railway station, and took their places in the first train that
started for London. We all thought it a pity at Frizinghall that their
proceedings were not privately watched. But, after Lady Verinder had
dismissed the police-officer, and had stopped all further inquiry
into the loss of the Diamond, no one else could presume to stir in the
matter. The Indians were free to go to London, and to London they went.
What was the next news we heard of them, Mr. Bruff?"