“I purchased this diamond in India,” lectured Rutherford Casslin. “It is said to have come from the collection of the King of Bishenpur. That monarch owned two of the most magnificent rubies in existence! I suppose that he fancied the diamond because of its reddish tinge.
“Shortly after I bought the diamond, I was approached by a jewel merchant of Bombay, who offered me one hundred and fifty thousand rupees for it. I could have shown a fancy profit above the price I paid, had I disposed of the diamond to Changra, the jewel merchant.
“However, I refused his offer. I would not part with this gem at any price. I am simply mentioning, though, that in India, this jewel would command the equivalent of fifty thousand dollars.
“The offer I had received followed me on my journey from India to England. In London, persistent representatives of the Bombay merchant still tried to buy the gem. They failed. I am keeping the diamond from Bishenpur.”
As he concluded his talk, Rutherford Casslin held the jewel between thumb and forefinger. He raised it above the level of his eyes. A pale crimson aura seemed to hover about the Bishenpur diamond. Then, with a dramatic gesture, Casslin replaced the jewel in its case. With a bow that caused the guests to spread apart, he turned to return to his strong room in the tower.
Yvonne Lydell walked toward the side window, where Bart Melken, cigarette lighter in hand, was having trouble making new bursts of flame. The young man looked up as his fiancee approached. He dropped the lighter into his vest pocket.
Yvonne, as she came from the back of the room, was facing toward the front window. Something made her stare in that direction, instead of looking at her fiance. Suddenly, the girl gripped Bart Melken’s arm.
“Look! Look!” she gasped.
Pressed against the front window was a brownish face. Dark, glittering eyes caught the girl’s stare. Then, in a twinkling, the face was gone.
Bart Melken, as he followed the direction of Yvonne’s gaze, was too late to see the visage that had been peering in from the outer darkness.
Yvonne’s startled gasp faded on her lips as the girl felt Bart Melken’s firm and reassuring grip upon her arm.
CHAPTER IV
MURDER STRIKES
“DID you see it, Bart?”
The question came in a whisper from Yvonne Lydell. Bravely, the girl was trying to curb the sudden terror which had caught her in its sway.
“See what?” returned Bart, in a calm undertone.
“The face,” whispered Yvonne. “The face at the window.”
“No,” replied Bart. “It must have been pure imagination on your part.”
Although the young man’s voice was calm, his own face had turned ashen. Yvonne did not notice Bart’s strained expression. She was staring toward the front windows. Beyond them, she could see the rail of a narrow balcony that ran to the right from the living room, and probably opened upon other windows at the front of the house.
The intruder, whoever he was, had gone. With a slight shudder, Yvonne turned back toward the other guests.
Rutherford Casslin, with Hubert and Hodges beside him, was departing in the direction of the tower. Guests were asking questions about the Bishenpur diamond. Yvonne’s suppressed excitement had not been noticed by anyone save Bart Melken.
“Say nothing,” prompted the young man. “There is no need to alarm anyone — at least not until after Mr. Casslin has returned from his strong room.”
Yvonne reluctantly nodded her agreement with her fiancee’s decision.
Casslin had walked through the rear door, in company with his two servants. He had evidently entered the steel door to the tower, and had gone up, for Hodges had returned, and was standing just within the doorway through which he had come.
Every guest was in the living room. Hodges, as though to make sure that all was well, stayed in the room himself. After a short interval, he turned to go back and join Hubert at the foot of the stairway to the tower.
At that moment, a hoarse, raucous shout came from beyond the door. Hodges stood momentarily startled; some of the men started toward the door before the servant moved. Then Hodges sprang to action. With three men at his heels, he dashed into the hallway.
THE cause of the cry was immediately apparent. Backed against the steel door was Hubert. He was clutching at a man who had pinned him there — a man in rough clothes, who turned a dark face toward those who came rushing into the hallway. At sight of Hodges, Hubert’s assailant broke away.
In his hand, the dark-skinned man held a flashing knife. It was dripping with crimson blood, for the fellow had stabbed Hubert before the servant had gained an opportunity to shoot him. Seeing Hodges, the assailant made a move as though intent on flight; then realizing the predicament, leaped suddenly at the advancing rescuer.
The knife gleamed as the dark hand came upward. Hodges, justifying the faith that Rutherford Casslin held in his ability, fired point-blank. The assailant was uttering a wild cry as he sprang forward. It turned to a shriek as Hodges delivered the shot.
The dark-skinned man rolled to the floor. His features showed in the light as he landed on his back. It was plain that the man was a Hindu.
Startled exclamations came from the guests who were with Hodges. All remembered Rutherford Casslin’s talk of Hindus who had sought the Bishenpur diamond.
The Hindu was dying. His hands lay loosely at his sides. The knife had fallen a foot away, and the man made no effort to grasp it. One of the guests seized the weapon. Hodges, whose quick action had saved the situation, was turning to his fellow servant, Hubert.
The man at the door had collapsed to the floor. Blood was issuing from his side. His revolver lay beside him. His lips were trembling. He could only gasp a few feeble words.
“The master” — Hubert panted as he paused — “in the tower. The master — look after him. The key — here — the key—”
Hubert’s fingers clawed at a pocket in the side of his coat. His effort failed. His body sagged and sank away from the arm that held him. Hubert, like the Hindu, had received a mortal wound.
Worried guests were crowding about. They looked to Hodges for advice. The servant, thrust in a position of importance, showed excellent judgment. He managed to calm the excited men about him.
“Someone call for a doctor,” he said. “Mr. Casslin is in the tower. We can inform him what has happened. The key must be in Hubert’s pocket.”
Hodges stooped over Hubert’s body and found the key. One of the guests was trying the steel door. It was locked. Another had gone to make the telephone call.
They could hear Mrs. Casslin in the living room, talking excitedly. A few moments later, the woman appeared in the hallway. She placed her hands to her head in horror as she saw the bodies on the floor; then, with an effort, she managed to ignore the gruesome scene.
“Where is my husband?” she questioned. “Where is Rutherford?”
“In the tower, madam,” returned Hodges. “The key was in Hubert’s pocket. I have it here.”
“He is safe, then!” exclaimed Mrs. Casslin. “He does not know what has happened here. This is terrible! Why did Doctor Dubrong go? Oh, why did he go? If he were only here now!”
“Shall I inform Mr. Casslin what has happened?” questioned Hodges. “Or shall I wait, madam, until he has come down from the tower?”
“Wait a few minutes, Hodges,” decided Mrs. Casslin. “He will be back here any moment. He must be safe; the tower door is locked.”
One of the guests appeared, to announce that he had called Doctor Dubrong’s apartment. There had been no answer. Mrs. Casslin stood in a quandary.