It came about in this way:
Turning out of St. Uldred’s road into a quiet, tree-shaded avenue running parallel with the historic heath, somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Vale of Health district, they looked up to discover that there was but one building in the entire length of the thoroughfare—a large, imposing residence set back from the road proper, and encircled by a high stone wall with curiously wrought iron gates leading into the enclosure—and that before that building two copper-skinned, turbaned, fantastically clothed Hindus were doing sentry duty in a manner peculiar unto themselves—the one standing as motionless as a bronze image before the barred gateway, and the other pacing up and down before him like a clockwork toy that had been well wound up.
“The Punjab for a ducat!” declared Cleek as he caught sight of them. “And the insignia of the Ranee of Jhang, or I’m a Dutchman. I knew the old girl was over here for the coronation, to be sure, but I’d no idea of stumbling over some of her attendants in this quarter, by Jip! Not putting up out here of late, is she, Mr. Narkom?”
“No. She’s still at Kensington. And what the dickens those johnnies are keeping guard over that place for beats us. Know it, don’t you? It’s the residence of Sir Mawson Leake—Leake & Leake, you know: Jewellers, Bond Street. Fine old place, isn’t it? Inherited it from his father, as he did the business, and——What’s that? No, not a young man—not a young man by any means. Grown children—two sons. One by his first wife, and——Hullo! that’s a rum trick, by James! See that, did you, old chap?”
“See what? The manner in which that clockwork johnnie stopped in his tracks and eyed us as we passed?”
“No. The woman. All muffled up to the eyes—and in weather like this. Just stepped out of the house door, saw those two niggers, and then bolted back indoors as if the Old Boy was after her.”
“Caught sight of us, very likely. You know what high-class Brahmans are where Europeans are concerned. It will be the old Ranee herself, three to one, paying a morning visit to the jeweller in reference to some of her amazing gems. That would explain the presence of the sentries. She travels nowhere without a guard.”
“To be sure,” admitted the superintendent, and walked on, dropping the matter from his mind entirely.
Ten minutes later, however, it was brought back to it in a rather startling manner; for, upon rounding the end of the thoroughfare along which they had been walking, and coming abreast of an isolated building (which was clearly the stable of the house they had recently passed), they were surprised to hear the sound of a muffled cry within, to catch a whiff of charcoal smoke as the door was flung wildly open by the same muffled female Mr. Narkom had observed previously, and something more than merely startled to have her rush at them the instant she caught sight of them, crying out distractedly:
“I was afraid of it, I knew it! I knew that he would! Oh, help me, gentlemen—help me for the love of God! I can’t lift him. I can’t drag him out—he is too heavy for me! My husband! In there! In there! He’ll die if you don’t get him out!”