Seven years before, he said, in December, 1750, there was a brilliant foreigner named Peloti among the officers of Major de la Touche, a young soldier who had been singled out by Dupleix, the French Governor of Pondicherry, as a military genius of the first order.  Peloti was with the French army when, less than four thousand in number, it fell upon the vast hordes of Nadir Jang near Gingi and won the battle that set Muzaffar Jang on the throne of the Deccan and marked the zenith of Dupleix’s success.  The new Nawab, in gratitude to the French for the services rendered him, sent to Dupleix a present of a million rupees, and a casket of jewels worth half as much again.  This casket was given to Peloti to deliver:  he had abused his trust by abstracting the gem of the collection, a beautiful diamond; and the theft being accidentally discovered, Dupleix in his rage ordered the thief to be branded on the right hand with the word ‘fur,’ and drummed him out of the French service.

The identity of Peloti with Diggle was not suspected by the French, and when Diggle a few months back offered his services to Bussy, their commander, they were eagerly accepted, for his evident knowledge of Clive’s movements and of affairs in Calcutta promised to be exceedingly valuable.  None of the French then in the Deccan knew him:  and though they remarked his curious habit of wearing a fingerless glove on his right hand, no one connected it with the half-forgotten story of the stolen diamond.

Desmond thanked the Frenchman for his information.

“I am sorry to keep you a prisoner, Monsieur,” he said; “but I must trouble you to return with me to Murshidabad.  I can promise you good treatment from Colonel Clive.”

The Frenchman smiled, shrugged, and exclaimed:  “Eh bien!  La guerre est la guerre!”

Remembering Coja Solomon, Desmond asked Toley to search Diggle’s body before burying it.  But nothing was found, except a little money.  The Armenian’s property had evidently been left under guard in the grove, and was doubtless, by this time, far away, in the possession of one or other of Diggle’s runagate followers.

At nightfall the party set off.  Closed chairs had been provided for the ladies, and these were carried in the midst, Bulger on one side, Toley on the other, and Desmond behind.  One person whom Desmond had expected to take with him was absent:  Scipio Africanus, on seeing the dead body of his master, had uttered one heartrending howl and fled.  Desmond never saw him again.  He reflected that, villainous as Diggle had proved to be, he had at least been able to win the affection of his servant.

On the way they met Coja Solomon, who, on learning of the disappearance of his valuables, heaped abuse upon Desmond and went away wringing his hands.  Traveling slowly, by easy stages, and only by night, it took the party three days to reach Murshidabad.  Desmond found that Clive had entered the city two days before and taken up his abode at the Murda Bagh.  Mir Jafar had been accepted as Nawab, and nothing had been heard of Sirajuddaula.