DANBY TRAVERS was annoyed. He was one of the founders of the Burglars'
Club. His entrance fee had been the temporary abstraction from the Crown
Jewels of the Koh-i-noor itself. Two years ago he had kept up his
membership by the burglary of the Duchess of Guiseley's emeralds; and
now, by the unkindness of Fate or the simple cussedness of his
committee, he could only renew his subscription by purloining the Black
Pearl of Agni. It showed the folly of becoming the champion jewel
burglar of the club.
Of course it was pure coincidence, for only four people knew that he was
in love with Mary Illingworth. Mary knew it, because he had told her;
Lord and Lady Illingworth, because they had been fatuously consulted in
the matter; and he, Danby Travers, because of a stuffy, despairing
feeling somewhere in his chest from the moment of awakening in the
morning down to the last gleam of consciousness at night. But the
Burglars' Club did not know it, nor did they know that Lord Illingworth
had told him that in future he was not to cross the baronial threshold;
and all because, despite his brilliant record in India and at
Hurlingham, he, Danby Travers, was as poor as a chapel mouse.
Therefore he received the mandate of the club with something less than
his usual urbanity. But reflection brought a Mephistophelean suggestion
of comfort. He had been unable to rob Lord Illingworth of his fairest
daughter. He would at any rate purloin his most valued jewel.
The Black Pearl of Agni was world-renowned. During the military
operations in the Western Deccan in 1803 it had been looted by a certain
Major Illingworth, of the Bengal Native Infantry, from a rich temple
dedicated to the Hindoo God of Fire. From that day his fortunes had
prospered amazingly. Promotion came for the asking; wealth by marriage
and bequest. Influence, social and political, had followed, and a title.
Succeeding generations had added to the score. Two descendants of the
sepoy major had attained Cabinet rank, and the present peer had won the
Derby. The Luck of the Illingworths had become proverbial.
[Illustration: "SHE . . . HAD SHOWN HIM THE SECRET OF ITS HIDING-PLACE."
(_p. 40._)]
The jewel was kept at Knowlesworth. Travers knew the place well. He had
spent a fortnight there, and there he had made love to Mary Illingworth.
She had shown him the Pearl; and, because he was to be her husband, had
shown him the secret of its hiding-place. Little did he think at the
time that the next occasion on which he entered that room would be as a
burglar--an amateur one, it is true, but still a burglar.
No wonder that Danby Travers was annoyed. The only justification for his
conduct that he could think of was that the temporary loss of the Pearl
would probably have a beneficial effect on Lord Illingworth's character.
He had received the secretary's intimation on the Friday morning. He had
to show the Pearl at the next meeting of the club--on the following
Tuesday night. That gave him four days for the business.
Knowlesworth was sure to be full of visitors, for Lord Illingworth had
succeeded a late Master of Balliol in entertaining the most
distinguished week-end parties in the country. Travers turned to the
_Post_, certain to find the list. Ah! here it was:
"Lord and Lady Illingworth are having a large party at Knowlesworth,
entertaining the Bohemian Ambassador and Countess Polsky, the Duke of
Strathpeffer, the Marquess and Marchioness of Bridlington, the Dean of
Penzance, Professor Rawson, and others."
"What a crew!" thought Travers. "Wouldn't Strathpeffer be pleased if I
came a cropper! I wonder he can go there after Mary's last refusal. I'll
wait till they thin a bit. Some are sure to go on Monday, so Monday
night is my best time for the job. Now for Bradshaw."
On the following Monday night, Travers took a second-class ticket at
Charing Cross in order to minimise the chance of running against
friends. From sheer curiosity he chose a compartment in which two
singular-looking men were already seated. The weather was by no means
cold, yet they were swathed in winter clothing. Thick mufflers were
round their necks. Their faces were partly hidden by the wraps, and
partly shaded by the broad brims of silk hats built about the time of
the Crimean War. But their race was unmistakable--to Travers at least.
They were Hindoos--the tall one probably a man of caste, the podgy
person possibly a Baboo.
In his interest at coming across these strange people Travers forgot his
ultimate objective. He settled himself in his corner, prepared either to
join in conversation with, or merely to watch, his quaint
fellow-travellers.
On his entrance they had turned their eyes upon him, but they had
resumed their conversation. As the train got on its way they raised
their voices, and, confident of not being understood, they spoke with
absolute unrestraint. Travers, with knowledge derived from ten years'
service in the Madras and Indian Staff Corps, was easily able to follow
their talk.
"At last," said the tall man, as the train moved out of the station.
"At last," repeated the other. "Buck up. Now is the conclusion of your
spacious quest."
"Say rather the beginning. So far it has been easy, despite the horror
of mingling with these barbarians. To lose caste was foreseen, but now
we enter upon the unknown."
"Nevertheless, I take the liberty of emphasising the necessity of
bucking up. To-morrow you will be a thrice happy man, and I will weave a
garland of marigolds for your honourable head. Gosh!" This as the train
entered a tunnel with a hideous shriek. "It is a taste of the
underworld," he added.
The tall man shuddered, and remained silent. As the train emerged his
companion gave a very creditable imitation of the whistle and the
tunnel.
The tall man smiled sadly.
"Ramma Lal," he said, "I envy you your merry disposition. It was in a
good moment that I met thee in Bombay, _baboo-jee_. You have served me
well in guiding me hither, and in enlivening me on the long journey."
"Your honour is pleased to be excessively gracious," said the Baboo with
absurd complacency. "Indeed, my tip-top spirits have been of much
service to myself and many other honourable gentlemen, and have been
extraordinarily admired by English ladies." He pulled out his watch. "In
the space of half an hour we shall have arrived at our long-intended
destination."
"So soon? Show me the plan again to refresh my memory."
The Baboo produced a piece of paper, over which they bent their heads.
"Here is the railway station at which we shall dismount. This pink
streak is the highway-road along which we shall travel, eventually
reaching the big brass gates belonging to ancestral home. A little
beyond is a diminutive wall, which we ascend and descend. Then we step
across the park and round the lake. Here and here. This sepia mark is
water. Now we are in the pleasure garden. This is the hinder part of the
house. Here is the right wing. The fifth window in the second row. That
is your bull's eye."
"Go on," said his companion, gloomily.
"Your honour will divest yourself of polished hat and other garments,
which you will transfer to my care in summer house. Here, behold it,
painted in vermilion. You will climb up to the window. Inferior but
friendly servant has arranged that it shall open easily. Once in the
room the deed is as good as accomplished. You know the hiding-place of
the jewel."