India Black and the Rajah's Ruby Read Online Free PDF Page B

intrigued,” I said. “You have my full attention.”
    “And mine, Mr. Ashton.” Marie Carter’s voice was tremulous. “Do tell us what you know.”
    “I’m afraid I know only what’s been reported in the newspapers. The ruby once belonged to the Rajah of Ganipur, a princely state in central India. I gather the rajahs there have been particularly troublesome over the years and our lads have had to step on their necks occasionally to keep them in line. It was during one such punitive expedition over a century ago that the ruby was liberated from the then ruler of that wretched state by one of our stalwart heroes, a fellow by the name of Major Swift.”
    “I suppose the Rajah found it difficult to object?”
    “I believe so, Mrs. Barrett. As I understand it, Major Swift had relieved the Rajah of his head before taking his ruby.”
    Ashton’s dissertation was interrupted by White charging into the room with Ford following in his wake and bearing a simple chest of polished mahogany. The ghostly chap deposited it on the table nearest the window and then fetched a set of candlesticks which he placed on either side of the box. He produced a box of matches and lit the candles, then drew back the curtains so a shaft of sunlight penetrated the gloom of the parlour. White observed Ford’s activities with the self-important expression of a bishop about to celebrate communion. We crowded round the table. Even Mr. Carter deigned to peep over his wife’s shoulder.
    White drew a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, turning it with a flourish. Using both hands, he reverently lifted the lid of the box and stepped away, allowing his audience to see what he had revealed.
    Marie Carter gasped. Or, I regret to admit, it might have been me.
    Nestled among folds of billowing white silk sat a great scarlet stone that caught and reflected the flames of the candles and the brilliant light of the sun. White rotated the box a half turn and the facets of the jewel shimmered with crimson flame, emitting sparks of a rich violet hue. He lifted the ruby from the silk and held it up to the window. The stone was a bottomless well of flame and flower. There was no end to that brilliant, bloodred color.
    I quite forgot my role as the wife of a respectable merchant and muttered, “Blimey.”
    Ashton was standing behind me, but in his excitement he had leaned forward so far that he pressed against me unconsciously. “You see the secondary purple color,” he said. “The mark of a superior stone.” He cleared his throat and, realizing that he and I were about to indulge in carnal relations according to the conventions of the day, stepped away hastily.
    “I congratulate you, sir,” he said. “That is indeed an exceptional ruby.”
    “Wherever did you get it, Mr. White?”
    “Marie!” Mr. Carter exclaimed.
    “Don’t scold the girl, Carter,” said White. “I’m so proud of this little beauty my buttons are about to pop. I don’t mind telling you where I bought it. I got it off a duchess, so I did, and for a good price, too. She needed to settle some racing debts for her boy. Me, I’d have told him to cough up the money himself, but you know what mothers are like. She was happy to get the cash.”
    Carter looked as though he’d swallowed a fish bone. I suppose no one had informed White that frank discussions of impoverished aristocrats and losses at the gaming table were bad form.
    “How did the ruby find its way from Major Swift to the duchess?” Marie asked.
    “So someone knows the story of my little treasure, eh?” White asked genially. He caressed the stone with his thumb.
    “When you purchase one of the most renowned rubies in the world, you can hardly expect the press to keep silent,” observed Ashton.
    “You mentioned the jewel’s reputation,” I said to him. “Do elaborate, please.”
    “Perhaps Mr. White should be the one to tell the story.”
    Ashton was clearly correct about this matter. White’s eyes