“Broad daylight,” says Mr. Franklin.

“And plenty of people in the streets?”

“Plenty.”

“You settled, of course, to arrive at Lady Verinder’s house at a certain time?  It’s a lonely country between this and the station.  Did you keep your appointment?”

“No.  I arrived four hours earlier than my appointment.”

“I beg to congratulate you on that proceeding!  When did you take the Diamond to the bank at the town here?”

“I took it an hour after I had brought it to this house—­and three hours before anybody was prepared for seeing me in these parts.”

“I beg to congratulate you again!  Did you bring it back here alone?”

“No.  I happened to ride back with my cousins and the groom.”

“I beg to congratulate you for the third time!  If you ever feel inclined to travel beyond the civilised limits, Mr. Blake, let me know, and I will go with you.  You are a lucky man.”

Here I struck in.  This sort of thing didn’t at all square with my English ideas.

“You don’t really mean to say, sir,” I asked, “that they would have taken Mr. Franklin’s life, to get their Diamond, if he had given them the chance?”

“Do you smoke, Mr. Betteredge?” says the traveller.

“Yes, sir.

“Do you care much for the ashes left in your pipe when you empty it?”

“No, sir.”

“In the country those men came from, they care just as much about killing a man, as you care about emptying the ashes out of your pipe.  If a thousand lives stood between them and the getting back of their Diamond—­and if they thought they could destroy those lives without discovery—­they would take them all.  The sacrifice of caste is a serious thing in India, if you like.  The sacrifice of life is nothing at all.”

I expressed my opinion upon this, that they were a set of murdering thieves.  Mr. Murthwaite expressed his opinion that they were a wonderful people.  Mr. Franklin, expressing no opinion at all, brought us back to the matter in hand.

“They have seen the Moonstone on Miss Verinder’s dress,” he said.  “What is to be done?”

“What your uncle threatened to do,” answered Mr. Murthwaite.  “Colonel Herncastle understood the people he had to deal with.  Send the Diamond to-morrow (under guard of more than one man) to be cut up at Amsterdam.  Make half a dozen diamonds of it, instead of one.  There is an end of its sacred identity as The Moonstone—­and there is an end of the conspiracy.”

Mr. Franklin turned to me.

“There is no help for it,” he said.  “We must speak to Lady Verinder to-morrow.”

“What about to-night, sir?” I asked.  “Suppose the Indians come back?”

Mr. Murthwaite answered me before Mr. Franklin could speak.

“The Indians won’t risk coming back to-night,” he said.  “The direct way is hardly ever the way they take to anything—­let alone a matter like this, in which the slightest mistake might be fatal to their reaching their end.”