Mr Verma laughed. ‘Well that’s one more than I have managed. I am in a spot of bother.’
‘“A spot of bother”? Would you think me awfully rude if I were to ask you how it is that you speak such wonderful English?’
‘Not rude at all, my lady. I studied at Cambridge.’
‘Really? Goodness me. Which college?’
‘King’s.’
‘Well I never. I was at Girton.’
‘It’s a wonder we never met,’ he said graciously.
‘Oh, you charming young man. I fear I was there long before you were born, dear boy. And now you’re the King’s emissary?’
‘I am, my lady, and that is why I was especially keen to come to Clarissa’s party and why I most urgently need your help.’
‘Gosh,’ she said, rather nonplussed. ‘What on earth can I do that might be of help to the King of Nepal?’
‘The tale is a long one,’ he said. ‘But I shall try to keep it brief. If doing so makes anything unclear, please stop me and I shall try to elucidate.’
Lady Hardcastle nodded and gestured for him to continue.
‘My country,’ he began, almost as though reading from a prepared script, ‘has a rich and complex religious history. Over the centuries, many gods have been worshipped and many sacred idols have been fashioned. One such idol was presented to the King as a gift on the occasion of his coronation. It was cast in pure gold, decorated with precious jewels of exquisite colour and clarity, but the most magnificent of them all was the emerald which formed its single, all-seeing eye. It was of the deepest green and the size of a hen’s egg, nothing like it had ever been seen in the kingdom before or since.
‘The idol was given a special place in a temple to the north of our capital and the people would come from miles around to see it. It was once a sacred object, but it was also a creation of rare beauty, and even though the religion it represented had long-since faded away, it was still revered. At first it was guarded day and night by the Royal Guard, but after a time it became apparent that it was so beloved by the people that no one would dare steal it, and soon the guard was stood down.’
Mr Verma paused for a moment and Lady Hardcastle seized the opportunity to interrupt.
‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘It was stolen?’
‘It was stolen, my lady,’ said Mr Verma. ‘There was a public outcry and everyone, young and old, rich and poor, joined the hunt for the thief. After a month of searching and more than one unfortunate false accusation, a gang of Indian thieves was apprehended at the border, attempting to smuggle the statue into Bengal. The members of the gang were hanged on the spot and the statue returned to Kathmandu, but during the month it had been missing, there had been some damage. Several of the jewels had been prized loose from the idol, including its magnificent emerald eye. Over the following months, many of the jewels were recovered and the rest replaced with similar stones, but the Eye was never found.
‘For nearly ten years, the King’s agents have been searching for the Emerald Eye, but every time they picked up a new trail, fate intervened and once more it slipped from their grasp. Early this year I was appointed the King’s Royal Secretary and as one of my many duties, I inherited the task of finding the Eye. We heard that it had surfaced once more in Calcutta, and then in March we heard a rumour that it was being offered for sale by a sailor in Marseille. From there we managed to follow its trail to Paris, where the story was circulating that it was in the hands of an Indian antiquities dealer who had found a buyer in England and that the Eye would soon be making its way to London.’
‘My goodness,’ interrupted Lady Hardcastle. ‘I think I might have heard that part of the story this morning.’
Mr Verma stopped dead. ‘Really?’ he said, apparently somewhat shocked.
‘One of the members of the band told us what we thought was a tall tale about something being smuggled from Paris. We had no idea what it might be.’
‘But why on earth would he tell you such a thing out of the blue? Do you know this man?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Verma, I thought you knew. Armstrong and I are helping Inspector Sunderland with the murder investigation.’
‘I see,’ he said, warily. ‘And you were questioning this musician?’
‘Yes. Mr Maloney, the drummer,’ she said, and then briefly recounted his story of the Parisian bar and the mysterious Indian stranger.
Mr Verma’s mood shifted subtly but noticeably. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Then I fear I might put you in an awkward position. I had hoped to enjoin you in my quest for the Eye, but if you are already involved in the investigation of the murder… You cannot serve two masters.’
Lady Hardcastle bridled. ‘I serve no master, Mr Verma.’
‘An expression, my lady, nothing more. I merely meant that my aim is solely to recover the Eye and return it to my King. I have no interest in any of the incidental crimes that follow the jewel wherever she goes. Whereas you… you wish to find the killer and solve the mystery like someone in a detective story, and for you the Eye is merely a colourful detail. The Eye is recovered… the Eye is not recovered… it would not matter to the solving of the murder. You see? You have made your commitment to the police inspector and I cannot ask you to help me if it might mean betraying his investigation.’
‘And might it mean that?’ she said.
‘It might, Lady Hardcastle. It might. I shall trouble you no further, but all I ask is that if you come upon any information regarding the whereabouts of the Eye and you can share that information with me without compromising your own investigation, that you do so.’
And with that, he turned abruptly on his heels and strode back towards the house, the Man Mountain puffing along behind him.
‘Well that was abrupt,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘I’m at something of a loss to understand what it was that he wanted from you,’ I said.
‘Well, he told a romantic tale of a cursed jewel–’
‘“Cursed”, my lady?’
‘Sacred, beloved, stolen, cursed… It’s all the same. He told us the tale to appeal to our innate girlish romanticism and to get us snooping round The Grange on his behalf. That’s how I read it.’
‘I don’t think I unpacked my girlish romanticism, it might still be in that trunk we put in the attic.’
‘I thought it seemed a little heavy. But now that he knows that we’re already involved, perhaps he thinks we might not be so amenable. In fact, we might actually make things more difficult for him.’
‘How so?’ I said. ‘You think he had something to do with the robbery in the library?’
‘Oh no, I think our Mr Verma is far too shrewd an operator to soil his own hands with something as sordid as rifling through instrument cases, but that body guard of his seems built for dirty work. And one could imagine him sloshing someone round the head and leaving him for dead without a second thought. And I think I know of someone who might have a particular interest in an Indian jewel.’
‘Nepalese, my lady.’
‘What? Oh yes, Nepalese. Not far from India.’