"It is my house, sahib. My name is Omichand. I must inquire how the badmashes came to be in my compound. I fear my darwan {doorkeeper} is at fault."
"And what about the two men?"
"The two men, sahib?"
"Yes, the two Europeans who came first from the house, and were protected by these ruffians?"
"You must be mistaken, sahib. English sahibs do not visit at the houses of Indian gentlemen. If the sahib had been longer in Calcutta he would know that."
A smile flickered on the Indian's face, but it was gone instantly. Desmond was nonplussed. It was useless to contradict the merchant; he was clearly not disposed to give any information; Diggle was gone. All he could do was to return and report the matter to Mr. Merriman.
"Come along, Bulger," he said, with an unceremonious gesture to Omichand. "We can do no good here."
"The old Ananias!" growled Bulger, as they walked away. "What in thunder is Diggle's game here? I'd give a year's 'baccy to have a chanst o' usin' my hook on him."
Mr. Merriman looked grave when he heard what had happened.
"To think of that villain once more escaping our clutches! The other fellow was a Frenchman, you say? There's mischief brewing. Sure if I was president I'd be tempted to arrest that wily old Omichand. Not that it would be of much use, probably. Peloti is a bold fellow to venture here. You are sure 'twas he?"