As the question passed his lips, I penetrated the motive of the Indian's
visit to my office at last!
"I see it!" I exclaimed. "The Indians take it for granted, as we do,
that the Moonstone has been pledged; and they want to be certainly
informed of the earliest period at which the pledge can be
redeemed--because that will be the earliest period at which the Diamond
can be removed from the safe keeping of the bank!"
"I told you you would find it out for yourself, Mr. Bruff, if I only
gave you a fair chance. In a year from the time when the Moonstone was
pledged, the Indians will be on the watch for their third chance. Mr.
Luker's own lips have told them how long they will have to wait, and
your respectable authority has satisfied them that Mr. Luker has spoken
the truth. When do we suppose, at a rough guess, that the Diamond found
its way into the money-lender's hands?"
"Towards the end of last June," I answered, "as well as I can reckon
it."
"And we are now in the year 'forty-eight. Very good. If the unknown
person who has pledged the Moonstone can redeem it in a year, the
jewel will be in that person's possession again at the end of June,
'forty-nine. I shall be thousands of miles from England and English news
at that date. But it may be worth YOUR while to take a note of it, and
to arrange to be in London at the time."
"You think something serious will happen?" I said.
"I think I shall be safer," he answered, "among the fiercest fanatics of
Central Asia than I should be if I crossed the door of the bank with the
Moonstone in my pocket. The Indians have been defeated twice running,
Mr. Bruff. It's my firm belief that they won't be defeated a third
time."
Those were the last words he said on the subject. The coffee came in;
the guests rose, and dispersed themselves about the room; and we joined
the ladies of the dinner-party upstairs.
I made a note of the date, and it may not be amiss if I close my
narrative by repeating that note here: JUNE, 'FORTY-NINE. EXPECT NEWS OF THE INDIANS, TOWARDS THE END OF THE
MONTH.
And that done, I hand the pen, which I have now no further claim to use,
to the writer who follows me next.