“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?”

“They were annoying Mr. Luker,” I answered, “by loitering about the house at Lambeth.”

“Did you read the report of Mr. Luker’s application to the magistrate?”

“Yes.”

“In the course of his statement he referred, if you remember, to a foreign workman in his employment, whom he had just dismissed on suspicion of attempted theft, and whom he also distrusted as possibly acting in collusion with the Indians who had annoyed him.  The inference is pretty plain, Mr. Bruff, as to who wrote that letter which puzzled you just now, and as to which of Mr. Luker’s Oriental treasures the workman had attempted to steal.”

The inference (as I hastened to acknowledge) was too plain to need being pointed out.  I had never doubted that the Moonstone had found its way into Mr. Luker’s hands, at the time Mr. Murthwaite alluded to.  My only question had been, How had the Indians discovered the circumstance?  This question (the most difficult to deal with of all, as I had thought) had now received its answer, like the rest.  Lawyer as I was, I began to feel that I might trust Mr. Murthwaite to lead me blindfold through the last windings of the labyrinth, along which he had guided me thus far.  I paid him the compliment of telling him this, and found my little concession very graciously received.

“You shall give me a piece of information in your turn before we go on,” he said.  “Somebody must have taken the Moonstone from Yorkshire to London.  And somebody must have raised money on it, or it would never have been in Mr. Luker’s possession.  Has there been any discovery made of who that person was?”