The Pearl of Bengal by Sir Steve Stevenson Read Free Book Online

priest under pressure so that he would tell them as much as possible.
    “Did you plot to steal the Pearl of Bengal?” she asked bluntly. “Maybe with the help of your followers?”
    Uncle Rudyard and Chandler folded their arms, waiting for his reply.
    “Never!” the Brahman exclaimed indignantly. “Only a foreigner could think such a thing! Do you know what grave misfortunes will befall our village if the pearl is not recovered? We are praying night and day that it be returned to our goddess. Kali is the Mother of the World for us Hindus, the most powerful deity of all. She is the only one who can save us from disasters, from war, and from the earth’s sicknesses. We would not dare to offend her and encourage her wrath!” His voice shook with terror.
    After this heartfelt outpouring, Agatha was certain Sangali was telling the truth. His words matched what she had read about Kali and the Hindu religion. She apologized to the Brahman for questioning him so rudely, explaining that they, too, were doing their best to recover the priceless pearl.
    Still shaken, the priest accepted her apology, and added, “Would you care to join in our chanting?”
    “As you say, we are foreigners,” said Agatha tactfully. Then a strange idea struck her. “Brahman, have any new pilgrims arrived in the last few weeks?”
    Sangali reflected. “Three, perhaps four,” he replied vaguely.
    “Could you point them out to me, please?”
    They turned back to the clearing in front of the temple.
    The priest hesitated. “It is not easy to see who is who in the dark,” he admitted. “And well, you know, pilgrims come and go. It’s easy to mistake one for another.”
    The girl observed the kneeling devotees, swaying in front of their flickering fires. For a split second, one of the men seemed familiar, but the sensation vanished immediately.
    The small group walked back toward the Tiger Hotel. Uncle Rudyard said good night at the gate, continuing on to the dock where the raft to his seaplane was moored.
    Before she slipped under the sheets, Agatha reviewed Deshpande’s list of suspects with Dash and Chandler. They had eliminated every last one from suspicion. So who was the thief?
    They fell asleep with no answer in sight.
    But they had completely forgotten the one hotel guest who remained in the garden, watching the light in their bedroom click off: the gentleman with the pince-nez glasses who’d been reading the newspaper that afternoon.

L ittle Parama darted back and forth, balancing breakfast trays like a professional acrobat. When she brought the pot of chai tea to their table, Agatha gave her a generous tip. Then she raised her face to the morning sun, inhaling the cinnamon scent of the sweet, frothy drink.
    At 7:30 in the morning, the village of Chotoka was peaceful. The fishermen had left at dawn, and the other villagers quietly went about their business, unhurried and smiling.
    It was like a little corner of paradise.
    Without warning, the hotel’s bell beganringing wildly. Parama went to the gate and returned with Uncle Rudyard.
    Rudyard Mistery was red-faced from running. “Have you heard the news?” he gasped.
    “What?” asked Dash with his mouth full of stuffed dosa pancakes.
    Uncle Rudyard gestured toward the river. “One of the forest guards just came to order me to move my seaplane away from the dock,” he panted, bending to catch his breath. “And do you know why?”
    “No,” the three Londoners replied in chorus.
    “Captain Deshpande has sent for the police from Kolkata,” he continued. “A boat will arrive by midday to pick up Naveen Chandra!”
    “You’re joking!” said Agatha. The teacup shook in her hand. But one look at Rudyard’s face told her he was all too serious. “There’s no time to lose. We have to help Naveen!” she declared.
    “Why don’t we tell Deshpande his alibi’svalid?” asked Dash. “And that we can prove it!”
    “It’s not going to work, cousin. The captain’s convinced