"By Jove!" Lord Victor ejaculated. "My gov'nor would give a few sovs for that Sapphire; he's entirely daffy on the subject of Indian curios."
"If it's for sale I'll give a thousand rupees for it, major," the prince added.
"I've got to fix that bell up again for Burra Moti," Finnerty answered; "she's been in a towering rage all day—keeps slipping her trunk up to her neck like a woman looking for a necklace she has lost."
"Oh, I say!" Gilfain expostulated. "Rather tallish order, old chap, don't you think? Almost too deuced human, what?"
Major Finnerty turned in his leisurely way to Gilfain: "If a chap spends several years with elephants he'll come devilish near believing in reincarnation, my young friend." Then, addressing Darpore more particularly, he added: "I want to tell you one extraordinary thing Burra Moti did when her calf was born. The little one was as though it were dead, not breathing. With her front foot the mother pressed the calf's chest in and out gently—artificial respiration if you like, gentlemen—and kept it up until the calf breathed naturally. But I'm sorry to say the little one died next day."
Swinton waited for some comment on the sapphire-clappered bell. He now asked: "Do you suppose, major, it was just a bell that the thief wanted?"
"No; that native had never been seen around the lines before. It's not likely he would slip into a strange place and take chances of being killed for a thing of not much value—a bell."
"Perhaps it's one of those bally sacred things," Lord Victor interjected.
Swinton saw Ananda's eyes send a swift glance to the German's face.
"Well," Finnerty said meditatively, "I think the thief knew of the sapphire stone in that bell, and it may have belonged to some temple; I mean Burra Moti may have been a sacred elephant."