“Beg pardon, gentlemen,” said Sergeant Stubbs, who had been threading his way through the resting horses and men.
“What is it, Sergeant?” asked Hulton.
“Well, sir, it’s a queer thing to say, but I’ve got a man starving to death in my head.”
The three officers stared at the powder-blackened sergeant, who stood looking strangely from one to the other, with a big pocket-handkerchief in his hand.
“Here, come along with me, Stubbs,” said Wyatt quickly; “the doctor will give you something.”
“I ain’t going mad, sir. I haven’t got a touch of the sun, sir,” protested the sergeant. “I know what I say. Look here, gentlemen; I tied the bag up in this to bring it to you, but in the hurry and rush it got stuffed among my traps, and I’ve just got it out of the wagon and brought it. I was afraid it would be found, and I should be charged with looting.”
“What is it?” said Dick excitedly.
“It’s a silk bag of dymonds and pearls and all sorts, sir, as I got hold of.”
“The missing jewels—the Ranee’s gems!” cried Dick. “How did you get those?”
“Well, it was like this, sir,” said the sergeant: “I was in the temple yonder, down by that doorway place I showed you, sir, when I hears a scuffling sort of noise, and I dropped back among the images, and out comes one of the big priests in an awful hurry with that bag in his hand. As soon as he was out of the dark hole he opens it, puts in his hand, and takes out something to look at, puts it back again, and then gives a peep round to see if any one was about, and then makes for the staircase. Then all in a minute it come to me. This bag was all precious stones, worth a lac of rupees, perhaps. ‘Part of the Rajah’s treasure,’ I said to myself, ‘that we’re put here to guard.’”