le to the king for the safeguarding
of the temple's sacred relic--the "Heart of Budda." Thus was the great
ruby known, and the rich crimson jewel was averred by tradition to be
nothing less holy than the actual blood of "the Perfectly Enlightened
One," bestowed upon mankind in an imperishable form.

Naturally, the gem was greatly venerated and not to be profaned by
impious hands. But in the time of Tshen's father, it was stolen from
the temple by an English adventurer, who succeeded in escaping out of
the country with it and making his way to London.

However, a curse went with the ruby. In the temple its influence was
beneficent, its crimson glow benignant and abounding with blessings for
all true believers; but when desecrated by the plundering vandal's
touch it became a great power for evil.

Therefore it came to pass that by the time the reckless Englishman set
foot upon his native soil he was only too glad to part with his
ill-gotten treasure at almost any price. He was in rags, starving and
broken in health.

Thus it was that the rough, uncut gem passed into the possession of
Luca Paternostro.

The recovery of the Heart of Budda straightway became a sacred charge
upon all the priests. Tshen's father devoted his entire fortune to the
cause. With infinite patience, laboring tirelessly, the Burmese never
lost sight of their precious relic; but in England they soon found that
conditions were vastly different from those of their home country. It
was impossible to approach the object which they coveted; and their
opinion of legal redress was based upon their familiarity with what
passed for justice in Burma. But they never grew disheartened; and at
last their opportunity came.

It was Tshen's father who slew Paternostro. It was he who won undying
honor by recovering the jewel. It was he who, hard-pressed by the
police, was obliged to seek the nearest sanctuary, which happened to be
France. The rest we know.

But the gem still carried its baleful spell, for we also know how the
expert whom the Paternostros carried with them to Paris, was drowned
just as the homeward-bound vessel was entering Dover harbor.

So much for the ruby's eventful history.

Chaya's declaration also confirmed my conclusions respecting Burke's
designed imposition upon Alfred Fluette--which, by the way, he seemed
to regard as perfectly legitimate. And then it concluded with the most
important matter of all.

On the night of F