"I had gathered the dying man in my arms, and now beneath the flowing garments, laid flat against the breast, I could feel the shape of something fashioned like a small pickaxe.
"When I saw that Kubar Bux was indeed dead, I drew forth this implement. It was carefully swathed in white cloths, a pickaxe bright from the hammer of the smith who had forged it, unsullied by earthy stain but curiously marked from the head to the point by seven discs of red paint, showing it to be an object of worship at an altar rather than for actual use in the ground. But at this stage I did not pause further to investigate, and hastily replaced the wrappings.
"'Keep close guard on this man,' I said to the sepoys, pointing to the informer. But he whom I would thus hold safe remained standing impassively, making no attempt to escape.
"Then with a push of my hands I tumbled down the pile of bales. In the one next to the bottom was a protuberance, and from this I drew forth a casket of silver, delicately chased and inlaid with ivory.
"By this time a throng of passers-by had stopped outside the shop, and some had even crowded into the little place. But these I now ordered out. Then I turned to seek the man who had been Kubar Bux's companion at the moment of our coming. He was no longer there. The shop was tenantless—except for myself and the dead man.
"I need tell but little more. The silver box was identified by several people as the property of Govind Chung, a jewel-seller in the Bara Bazaar, who had made a recent journey to the court of the Rajah of Baroda, but had not yet returned home, although for some time expected.
"That night the paint-bedaubed pickaxe, sacred emblem of Kali's worship, lay on the table in my sleeping chamber. But in the morning it had disappeared—gone how and where no one has ever discovered. The informer had been confined in the public prison, guarded by two sepoys. Thither, on discovering my loss, I straightway repaired.
"The soldiers were still on guard in the corridor; nothing had happened during the night to disturb their watch.
"But within his cell the informer was found dead—strangled, eyes and tongue protruding from blackened face, the twisted knot under his ear tied in the very manner I had seen him himself tie it over his upraised knee on the afternoon of his confession.
"That is the end of my story."