“Surendra Nath has a heart of gold, Mr. Burke,” said Mrs. Merriman in concluding her story.  “Poor man! he has been very ill.  We must do something to show our gratitude for his devotion when we get back to Calcutta.”

Desmond then in his turn told them all that had happened since their disappearance.  When they learned of the result of the Battle of Plassey, and that Clive was marching toward Murshidabad, they were eager to set off at once.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Desmond, “we shall start as soon as possible.  I shall leave you to make your preparations.  It may not be possible to start before night, the country being so disturbed, so that if you can sleep through the day you will be fitter for the journey.”

He left them, and going into the compound, found Bulger and Toley looking with curiosity at the body of Diggle.

“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.