The Ruby Assassin

It was the year 1908 when I was summoned to India to assist in an ongoing investigation that required my immediate involvement. The request came from a prestigious member of the British society in India, Lord Alfred Barrington. My name is Jack Cauvain, and I am the Chief Inspector from London. At the time, I was in Calcutta with the Prefect of Paris, Hugo Bonheur, attending an international conference, when I received the letter informing me of a most unusual case in Patna.

It was disconcerting to hear of a sudden string of murders. All the victims were reputable and well-known men. I invited Bonheur to accompany me and assist in the investigation. Naturally, he agreed, and we departed for Patna on the next train bound for the city, which, like much of India, was under British paramountcy.

Our train traversed several towns and long hours of dusty terrain before we reached our destination. Patna, a major trading hub in India, was bustling and sun-soaked. Upon arrival, we were greeted warmly by Lord Barrington, who was awaiting us at the railway station.

‘Inspector Cauvain, I am glad you were able to arrive at last in Patna’.

‘And I am glad to be here and of genuine service, in whatever manner I may assist in the investigation, Lord Barrington’, I replied.

‘There is much to disclose, inspector, and I do hope these unsolved murders are finally resolved—for the sake of our community and the integrity of our elite society’.

‘That, too, is my sincere hope’.

I then introduced him to the prefect. ‘Allow me to present to you the honourable Prefect of Paris, Monsieur Hugo Bonheur’.

‘I have heard of you mentioned before, prefect, in the Chief Inspector’s correspondence to me’.

‘Whatever you have heard of me, monsieur, it pales in comparison to what you must have heard of the Chief Inspector’, Bonheur replied.

‘You may believe me when I say, prefect, that I equally value both your abilities’.

‘No need to be modest, Bonheur. You are a man of notable prowess’, I interjected.

‘It is good to witness such dedication, gentlemen. It is not often I find myself in the presence of men of such reverence’.

‘As for the case, Lord Barrington—what pertinent facts can you reveal that might allow us to begin the process of identifying the culprit, or culprits, behind these abominable crimes?’

‘Until now, Inspector, there is only the intimation that the murders are all connected, and one recurring detail: a lone gem—a singular piece of ruby—found next to each of the deceased’.

‘In what manner?’ I enquired.

‘Perhaps it would be better if I took you both to the latest crime scene, where the most recent murder occurred. It happened in a cul-de-sac along one of Patna’s main streets’.

‘By all means’.

Upon arrival at the site, the first thing I noticed with my trained eye was the peculiar setting. It was ideal for a swift murder and an equally swift escape. The intrinsic nature of the crimes was, at that time, still speculative; I had insufficient evidence to form a conclusive deduction. However, I could already determine that the killer had had some kind of relationship with the victim.

Footprints were visible—leading to and from the scene. What was more telling were the fresh prints beside those left during the previous day's murder. This indicated that the murderer had returned to the location. Bonheur noticed my contemplative state and familiar expressions.

‘What thoughts are mulling in that mind of yours, inspector? I know that look too well’, he said.

‘I would expect no less of you, Bonheur. And if you must know, I was considering these fresh footprints I’ve spotted’.

‘Which ones?’ He pointed. ‘Those leading in and out of the cul-de-sac?’

‘No—not those in particular. These here’. I gestured to the newly pressed marks.

Bonheur examined them. ‘Ah, yes. I see them now. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

‘Indeed. The culprit has returned—perhaps to retrieve something’.

‘Would he be so bold as to risk capture?’

‘That depends entirely on whom we are dealing with, and how confident he is in disguising his intentions—and his presence’.

‘And the ruby? Did he forget it—or drop it inadvertently?’

‘That does seem plausible. I would hazard that it was left behind accidentally’, I said.

‘But how can we be certain the ruby isn’t merely a ploy of deception?’

‘Perhaps it is. But my intuition suggests that the ruby is a more significant clue—left unwillingly. There’s usually a distinctive pattern in how clues emerge’.

‘I see your point. Who do you think is responsible for these murders, inspector?’

‘I can only speculate, for now. But I cannot dismiss the possibility of a secret society being behind these crimes. In my experience with bizarre murders, this has often been the case’,

‘Then you suspect a cult?’

‘Frankly—yes’,

We departed the scene and returned to Lord Barrington’s residence, where we were to remain for the duration of the investigation. From what I had gleaned, these murders were not random. They had purpose. That implied familiarity—some personal connection between murderer and victim.

What I could not yet determine was the nature of that relationship. All the victims were British—six murders in one week. It was the one certainty I could not unravel. I also could not rule out the possibility that more than one individual was involved.

If that were the case, I would need to focus on method and motive, rather than merely the horror of the crimes themselves. It was clear that the perpetrator—or perpetrators—had a reason that justified the murders in their own mind.

In the privacy of my guest chamber, I pored over the reports. Each contained consistent elements—each left behind a piece of ruby. Bonheur was intent on correlating the sequence and timing of the murders, suggesting that the killer had to have known the victims. These were not random ambushes committed in the shadow of night.

I agreed with his theory. But the ruby—that lone, enigmatic gem—continued to trouble me. I examined it under my magnifying glass. It appeared to have once been part of a ring—ornate, finely crafted. That detail lodged itself in my mind.

We had to wait, it seemed, for the killer to strike again. Until then, we were left with too few clues. That morning, however, I was roused by grim tidings.

Another murder.

This time, the body had been discovered in a cul-de-sac not far from the one we had examined previously—only a few kilometres distant. The victim was again a British businessman: Lord William Watford.

This time, we arrived swiftly enough to examine the corpse and surroundings with greater scrutiny. The modus operandi was unmistakably the same. The sequence—the style—the symbolism—it all resembled the earlier murders. Once again, a ruby lay at the scene.

And once again—there were fresh footprints.

From my examination of the body, it was evidently clear to me that the murder had not been committed with a deadly weapon, but rather, through a chokehold applied to the neck. There were no major traces of blood found trickling on the ground, nor any slashed or puncture wounds.

'This poor man was strangled to death, Bonheur'.

'That appears to be the case, Inspector, but what I don’t understand is how no one witnessed the murder?'

'I would not make that assertion just yet, not until we have spoken to the locals'.

'What do you expect any of them to tell us?'

'That I do not know. But we must make an attempt to find credible witnesses. If not, we shall be at a disadvantage'.

'Are we not already at a disadvantage, inspector?'

'For the moment, yes. However, I am confident that we shall come across him soon'.

'Do you mean—we shall meet him in person?'

'That does seem to be a likely occurrence'.

'And the piece of ruby? What are we then to determine about it?'

'I was thinking that we should visit the local jewellers in the city and enquire about the nature of the rubies and where they are sold or purchased'.

'When?'

'Now!'

The streets of Patna were filled with plentiful carts, bazaars, merchants, and women wearing saris, whose local language was Magahi, not Hindi. We were fortunate in our endeavour to locate several jewellers whose shops were not far from the crime scene and who spoke English.

I was uncertain whether that was mere coincidence, or whether the culprit had indeed purchased or used rubies from one of those shops. Once we had spoken to them and asked about the ruby in particular—the one I believed had been dropped by the culprit—none of the jewellers could confirm that it had been purchased from their shops.

I found their statements to be inconclusive and unreliable. The ruby could not have been an oddity. It must have been purchased somewhere in the city of Patna. Simply because it would be far easier to acquire it here, allowing the criminal to conceal his identity or purpose among the locals.

Bonheur agreed with my assertion. The jewellers did provide one interesting piece of information: the ruby we presented likely belonged to a ring.

We returned to the residence of Lord Barrington to inform him of the murder and what we had discovered at the crime scene. We apprised him of the evidence and established the plausible connection between the murderer and the victims. We also discussed the mysterious ruby fragment left behind at the first murder.

This time, we had witnessed the aftermath of the crime and possessed far greater insight into the frame of mind of the criminal. He had employed a silent method of killing, and judging by the precision, his execution was chillingly effective. But one detail revealed his flaw—his apparent compulsion to revisit the crime scene.

I pondered whether I was dealing with a perverse individual or one taking direct orders. It was easy to believe he was a madman, but from experience, I had learnt that behind the simplicity of a criminal’s actions, there is often an argute mastermind.

After visiting and speaking to Lord Barrington, we headed to the main market area, attempting to converse with locals in hopes of finding any credible witnesses who might describe the culprit. However, a language barrier soon necessitated the involvement of an interpreter. We hired one, a man named Rajesh Tiwari, to assist in our task.

Initially, no witnesses offered any significant information. I had the general impression that the locals were not particularly hospitable towards foreigners—especially the British. Few were willing to speak, let alone volunteer for questioning.

Eventually, one witness came forward, claiming to have seen the culprit. To our surprise, he gave a precise description: the suspect was of medium build, neither tall nor short, with black hair and dark eyes. Most significantly, the witness believed the man was not from the area or even from Patna. This implied he was a stranger.

The crucial question remained: was he Indian, or from abroad? The witness was unsure but believed him to be Indian. I enquired about his accent and speech. The witness confirmed he spoke fluent Hindi and Magahi. While this was not enough to ascertain his identity, it gave us an instinctive impression of the type of individual we were confronting.

Bonheur shared my belief that the culprit was likely Indian. Before we parted with the witness, he added one final detail: the assumed killer wore a ring missing a ruby.

We spent the evening speculating about the identity and character of the murderer. The ruby remained a central theme of our discussions. Bonheur and I were convinced that the ruby had been dropped during the killer’s struggle with his first victim. Was it part of an elaborate ruse? What message, if any, was he trying to convey?

The idea that he was a lone lunatic was dismissed. We had seen our fair share of madmen and could distinguish a deranged killer from a calculating one. Bonheur suggested we focus on apprehending him rather than dwelling on the ruby. I did not disagree—except for one point: how could we arrest him if we could not even solve the mystery of his identity?

A week passed before another murder occurred. This time, not in the usual confines of the cul-de-sacs, but in a winding hill near the River Ganga. The victim was another member of British society: a certain Lord Thomas Howell.

The location differed, but the method of murder was identical—strangulation by force. The murders had not only disquieted the public, but had also stirred distrust amongst the locals towards us foreigners. The pressure to solve these crimes was mounting. The local police proved ineffective. Though they had as much evidence as we did, our experience in such matters made the difference.

Thus, it was vital not to dismiss any potential clues we might have overlooked. I was certain we would confront the killer sooner rather than later.

'Do you think the killer chose this area because he suspected we were on to him?' Bonheur enquired.

'That could be the case, but I truly doubt it', I replied.

'Then what have you surmised, inspector?'

'I believe this murder was merely a cunning attempt to distract us—but he has failed in his mission'.

'Could it be he wanted us to find the body?'

'That is highly likely. However, there is one detail that has arrested my attention'.

'What is that, inspector?'

'Look closely at the crime scene. There are no fresh footprints to indicate he returned'.

'Mon Dieu, that is correct!'

'I have a strong hunch this was intentional'.

'What do you mean?'

'Simple, Bonheur. Our culprit is either desperate—or has decided not to risk immediate capture in the city'.

We returned to the earlier crime scenes in hopes of uncovering any valuable clues we might have missed. We had not yet formed a definitive profile of the killer due to a lack of adequate evidence. Nevertheless, several patterns emerged: his modus operandi, the ruby fragment, and his victim selection.

The local Indian police assisted us in our pursuit, but it was our duty to solve the case. Bonheur had become convinced the killer belonged to a secret society. I too had arrived at that conclusion through deductive reasoning. It was clear we were facing a well-functioning organisation that aided the murderer and harboured ulterior motives. We had not yet uncovered its name.

We again visited the bustling markets and shops, hoping for further evidence or new witnesses. The people of Patna, clad in their traditional garments, looked at us with curiosity—as foreign to us as we were to them. A Frenchman with a kepi and an Englishman with a bowler hat, Bonheur with his curled moustache and I with my pointed one—we made quite a pair.

Bonheur doubted we would find anything new. After over an hour, our search yielded little. But just as we were about to leave, we discovered something curious in a cul-de-sac—a letter, apparently dropped. We could not be sure whether it had been left deliberately or by accident.

The letter, written in what appeared to be Hindi, bore an unusual seal at its bottom. Neither Bonheur nor I could read the script, so we presented it to a nearby shopkeeper. He informed us that the contents were a list of names—potential victims—and included directions to their residences. All of the names were English.

This was an extraordinary discovery. Bonheur proposed that we investigate the headquarters of the British Society’s elite, believing we would find answers there. The letter had clearly accelerated the case, and my instincts told me we were close to exposing the murderer.

The building, a former hotel, now housed the society. Only one member remained in the city—Lord Richard Chatfield. He informed us that the rest had fled Patna until the murders ceased.

When I asked why he had stayed, he simply replied that he was not afraid. I requested a list of surviving members. It included one Indian name: Balfour Kumar.

I enquired further, but Chatfield stated that Mr Kumar had left with the others. He divulged little else. Before leaving, I questioned him about the seal on the letter. He seemed reluctant to discuss it. One peculiar detail struck me: he wore a golden ring embedded with scarlet rubies, flanked by four intricately engraved cobras.

Immediately, I recalled the ruby fragment from the crime scene—almost certainly from a ring. We departed and made our way to Lord Barrington’s residence.

Along the way, Bonheur and I discussed our visit to the society’s building, and of course, the ruby.

Upon our arrival, Lord Barrington greeted us: 'Gentlemen, I was expecting you'.

'Lord Barrington, we bring news—but a question also that has troubled me ever since we made our latest discovery'.

'What is it you’ve discovered?'

'A seal', I replied.

I showed it to him. After further examination, he deciphered its meaning.

'Where did you find this, Inspector Cauvain?'

'At one of the crime scenes'.

'What can you tell us about the seal?' Asked a curious Bonheur.

'It belongs to an ancient organisation that once existed in these parts of the country'.

'What organisation is that?' I enquired.

'The Nine Unknown Men—a secret society founded by Emperor Ashoka. He created the society to preserve knowledge and wisdom in the end'.

'I have never heard of these men'.

'What do they have to do with the murders?' Bonheur interjected.

‘You said the preservation of knowledge’, I replied.

‘They have knowledge in subjects such as alchemy, cosmology, propaganda, physiology, sociology, and politics. You see, gentlemen, this part of India, the province of Bihar, has been ruled by the Gupta, Pala, Mughal, Portuguese, and British Empires, and yet this organisation has survived them all’.

‘Lord Barrington, if I may enquire again. What does this organisation have to do with the recent murders?’ Bonheur asked.

‘Everything, Bonheur. Do you not understand?’ I interrupted.

‘Understand what, inspector?’

‘They want to expel the British from their region and country’.

‘That is true, inspector. I am afraid at whatever cost’, Lord Barrington affirmed.

‘Now that we know who is behind the murders, we still need to apprehend the murderer’.

‘That will be a tremendous challenge, inspector’, Lord Barrington admitted.

‘Indeed! But I am always inclined to accept a challenge—and one that is solvable. I do not accept cases that I cannot eventually resolve’.

We left Lord Barrington’s residence with the knowledge that we had discovered the organisation of the secret society perpetuating the crimes. There was something odd about the ring that Lord Barrington wore on the index finger of his right hand. I could see it clearly enough to make a rough description from afar.

It was exactly the same as the ring that Lord Chatfield was wearing. I suggested to Bonheur that we revisit the local shops on the principal streets, to see whether the piece of ruby was part of a ring. Much to our dismay, there had indeed been a purchase of ruby rings. What was more surprising was the fact that they had been sent to the building of the British Society. There was no mention of the purchaser’s name, nor much detail about his description. I did not believe the killer audacious enough to expose himself to capture—but evidently, I was mistaken.

I was under the impression that he was either playing a risky game of chess with us or was naive enough to commit such a noticeable and tactless blunder. Time was of the essence, and we were rapidly unmasking the criminal. I sensed that it was only a matter of time before we would ultimately come face to face with him.

As is the case with all criminals, their instinctive behaviour is what dooms them to their abrupt finality. We returned to the cul-de-sacs of the previous murders, where we experienced a deadly encounter with a menacing serpent—a large cobra.

I was about to pick up an object I thought might be a clue when the serpent gazed into my eyes with serious intent. It was hidden behind a basket, ready to strike at any moment. Bonheur, who was behind me, whispered for me to stay still. Naturally, my instinct was to remain silent and immobile. I had no intention of allowing the cobra to bite me with its venomous fangs.

As the cobra slithered closer, Bonheur reacted swiftly by striking it, causing the creature to retreat into the recesses of the wall. I was grateful for Bonheur’s agility, but I was concerned that the murderer had deliberately placed the serpent there to have me killed.

Perchance this was merely a coincidence—but I was not convinced. I believed the cobra to be more than a mere ploy. Whatever the culprit had devised against us, it was necessary that we outwit his ambitions and ingenuity. It was now apparent to me that we were included on his list of pending victims. That was unsettling, but I was accustomed to the charades of the criminal mind.

Bonheur concluded it would be wiser not to stray too far from the city. I had been deep in contemplation, musing over the tactics being employed in the murders. I strongly believed that the key to solving this mystery was connected to the members of the British Society in India. From amongst my few potential suspects, their members were at the top of my list. Whoever was instructing the murderer had to be someone of high status or power.

The ring also occupied my mind, with increasing intrigue. Why were two prominent Englishmen—Lord Barrington and Lord Chatfield—wearing rings that could be associated with the secret society of the Nine Unknown Men?

I was informed that the British Society had replaced its former deceased members with interim members of Indian descent and status. This was seen as a token gesture to appease the local nobility of Patna. The clues were gradually becoming concrete facts. I discussed the ring with Bonheur in private.

‘I suspect there is more to the ring than a mere association between two Englishmen’.

‘I was thinking the same thing, inspector’, Bonheur replied.

‘But what reason or objective could these two prominent men share with this secret society? It cannot simply be to gain notoriety’.

‘I have the intuitive sense that both men are involved in the murders—or benefit from them’.

‘What do you mean by “benefit”?’ Bonheur asked curiously.

‘I shall attempt to explain with a brief and rational discourse. You see, there is indeed a hidden agenda that we both have suspected from this secret society, and it most likely involves the plight to expel British influence from India’.

‘But you forget—they are British, inspector’.

‘That I have not forgotten, Bonheur. I believe that one of the two men is the mastermind behind the murders, and the other is merely an accomplice—much like our killer’.

‘If so, then how are we to make an arrest if all we have at present is circumstantial evidence? That is not sufficient to apprehend them’.

‘I know that. But if we can trap them in their deception, then we may finally determine who is truly behind these murders’.

‘That sounds reasonable and like a good idea. But the question I impose upon you, inspector, is—how do we achieve that trap? Will it work to our advantage or disadvantage?’

‘I am counting on it being to our clear advantage’.

‘Then please explain your plan in detail, so I can understand what you are attempting to convey,’ Bonheur enquired.

‘I was thinking that one of us could be offered to the killer’.

‘Do you mean as bait?’

‘Yes, indeed’.

‘Please continue with your explanation’, Bonheur urged.

‘Once we are in position—by that, I mean the police, who will be in disguise—we can lure the murderer into one of the cul-de-sacs and capture him’.

‘That sounds like a risky plan, inspector’.

‘It is, Bonheur’.

‘Are you certain that it will result in his capture?’

‘Only time will tell!’ I responded with a certain measure of candour.

We planned to implement our tactic, but first, we wanted to revisit the residence in which we were staying—the home of Lord Barrington. We were prepared to catch him in his duplicity and lies, but I would not have the opportunity to confront him in person about his affiliation with the Nine Unknown Men.

Upon our arrival, we discovered the unfortunate news of his untimely death. One of the servants had found his body in his private study. It was a shocking revelation—we had not anticipated his death. Upon further examination of the body, we confirmed that he had been choked to death, just like the others.

This did not rule out his involvement in some nefarious capacity. Immediately, my suspicion turned to Lord Chatfield. When we went to the British Society building to speak with him, he was absent. We then visited his residence and were informed by a servant that he had left the city of Patna and was heading to New Delhi for a personal matter. Bonheur immediately suspected that Lord Chatfield had fled the city to avoid apprehension or association with the murders.

After all, a man as affluent as Lord Chatfield could not afford to have his reputation tarnished by such heinous crimes. The local police were notified of Lord Chatfield’s departure and Lord Barrington’s death. A telegraph was sent to New Delhi at once, inquiring into Lord Chatfield’s whereabouts and expressing our suspicion of his involvement. He was a prime suspect—but not the only one. There was still the looming presence of the murderer, who remained at large.

As we had planned in trapping the murderer, we headed towards one of the narrow cul-de-sacs of the city, in our attempt to capture the callous culprit. We had decided that I would be the bait, and Bonheur along with the local policemen would be observing closely from a distance, every action taken.

At approximately an hour after we had been in position, a stranger approached the area, wearing an inconspicuous disguise. He was covered from top to toe, so that his face could not be detected so easily. This, I had imagined, was not the usual tactic used by the killer. I had my back turned to him, pretending that I was lost, when suddenly he lunged at me and tried to strangle me.

Fortunately for me, Bonheur, with his sharp acumen, had seen what was about to transpire and shot the man in the back. He lay in the cul-de-sac dead from his wound. We would soon learn the true identity of the man, and his name was Devesh Tiwari. There was not much known about him, except that he was originally from Calcutta, although he had an affinity with the province of Bihar, through his grandparents, who were from the area.

We had assumed that he was also a member of the Nine Unknown Men, in some regard. We had found a ring on his right index finger that was missing a ruby piece. The exact ring that the others had. We knew then we had our ruby assassin. We would later learn that Mr Tiwari knew his victims and had gained their trust. Even though it meant, at last, the end to the murders, the case was still pending. Lord Chatfield had not yet been arrested or interrogated.

We had captured the murderer, and our task was complete in Bihar, but we would have to locate Lord Chatfield to finalise the case. That would be a difficult task, because we needed to find more evidence linking him to the murders and his direct association with the secret society.

The motive was still obfuscating. I had concluded in my deduction that he killed the other members of the British Society for the one thing that drives men to greed—absolute power. We had purchased a ticket by train to New Delhi, with the intention to locate Lord Chatfield. I was conscious about the realisation that he would not be confessing to his involvement in the crimes willingly.

I had suggested to Bonheur that we gather all the necessary facts that were gleaned and written down in our notes, plus the exact dates of the murders. It was imperative that we present our evidence in an irrefutable manner, and within a proper timeline. I wanted us to be prepared to confront Lord Chatfield, with the facts at our disposal.

Lord Barrington would be buried afterwards. His connection to the secret society would not be mentioned or released to the newspapers. We had concealed that information, for the purpose of the investigation. It was not propitious for our cause to disclose such a damaging revelation about a prominent man. Along our trip to New Delhi, we had discussed what Lord Chatfield would do once we confronted him with our undeniable evidence.

‘We should have paid more attention to the deceptive nature of Lord Chatfield, and have seen how involved he was with the secret society’, Bonheur had uttered.

‘But how could we, Bonheur, for there was not much information that could have indisputably caused us to believe he was actually behind the murders?’

‘The ring and his membership in the British Society. Is that not sufficient for his involvement?’

‘While I agree with your analogy, we did not possess the evidence needed to arrest him’.

‘If I may enquire, inspector, do you believe once we have found him that he will try to dismiss our evidence and make no acknowledgement about his affiliation with the Nine Unknown Men?’

‘I would not expect otherwise. His defence will not lead to an admission of guilt. Instead, what I think will occur will be that he will discredit every basis of our facts, including the ones that we can prove and are admissible’.

‘That appears to be something difficult to achieve’, Bonheur had said.

‘Cheer up, old boy, for we have time on our side. He, on the other hand, has little of it to comfort him in his moments of privacy and reflection’.

‘I shall try, inspector, but not only for our sake, but for the sake of international affairs, I hope we can apprehend him and prove his guilt’.

‘That is the spirit, Bonheur. I knew that I could count on you for the daring challenge that is presented to us’, I replied.

When we arrived at New Delhi, we were met by one of the local policemen, who would be assisting us in finding the evasive Lord Chatfield. We had no conclusive clue about his whereabouts in New Delhi, and we would have to start from some random place.

Thus, we began our immediate search in the principal areas of the city. Naturally, New Delhi was larger than Patna. It was not going to be a facile task to accomplish, but we were resolute to find him wherever he was hiding from us. Bonheur was eager to search in every nook and cranny. We did not have an address, nor one place in particular to know where he was.

After several days of searching for him, we had failed to locate him. This was a temporary setback for us. We knew that sooner or later, we would encounter him. That was the reward to our satisfaction that awaited us with his apprehension. One morning as we were having breakfast at a local restaurant, I spotted who I believed was Lord Chatfield, walking on the pavement of the street where we were. He was at the corner of the street when I instantly informed Bonheur of his appearance.

We rose to our feet with an urgent need to follow him, and we did. We followed him all the way until a hansom cab took him to another place. I recognised his distinctive attire and familiar look. He was a man in his late sixties, tall and lanky, with brown hair and a brown moustache. We grabbed a hansom cab ourselves and followed him, but to no avail.

We lost him afterwards, with all the hectic rambles and bustle of activities occurring in the city. It was impossible to know what his final destination was, but we confirmed that he was still in New Delhi. For how long? That was the question.

The local police of New Delhi were apprised of the incident with Lord Chatfield, and they vowed to catch him. We did not have many clues to his whereabouts. The only thing we could do was to check the main areas of the city, hoping that he would be spotted again in public.

We gave a broad description of Lord Chatfield to the local police as they patrolled the areas, whilst we investigated more the possible connections that he had with any prominent Englishmen of the city. If my assumption was correct, then he was not only in New Delhi for concealment from us, but to meet with another member of the Nine Unknown Men.

We were able to gather a list of reputable Englishmen in the city who were registered. There was one in particular who had arrested my attention. His name was Howard Fletcher. He was a businessman who imported rubies from Calcutta. This immediately made me remember the piece of ruby that was found at the crime scene. Bonheur was attentive to my developing thoughts.

‘What are you contemplating now, inspector?’

‘The ruby, Bonheur’.

‘I thought we had dismissed the ruby as a mere distraction?’

‘Not yet!’ I replied.

‘I am afraid that I don’t understand’.

‘I shall proceed to explain. If my suspicion is proven correct, then the ruby could belong to a part of an international smuggling operation that is, of course, illegal’.

‘That is an interesting analogy. I must admit that I did not think of that before’.

‘Now, if this is true, we shall assume that Lord Chatfield and this Fletcher fellow are involved in this profitable scheme’.

‘Then it is money that they seek?’ Bonheur asked.

‘The oldest of all of man’s greed’, I responded.

‘How do you expect to capture either of these men?’

‘By using a trick that the criminal uses often’.

‘What trick are you referring to, inspector?’

‘The oldest trick of them all, a disguise, Bonheur’.

‘Please explain to me how’.

‘It is simple. I shall dress myself in a disguise, pretending to be a businessman and buyer of rubies’.

‘But why not me? I am French and know much about precious stones’.

‘I do not doubt your skilful prowess, Bonheur, but in this case, it is obvious’.

‘Obvious?’

‘I am British and would be more trusting’.

‘Are you implying that we French are not?’

‘Those are your words, not mine, Bonheur. Enough with the foolishness and let us concentrate on our plan if we are to progress’.

‘Proceed, inspector!’

‘Whilst I am occupied with Mr Fletcher, you along with the New Delhi police will be observing our meeting. Once I have established a conversation with him about purchasing rubies, then I shall signal you to alert the New Delhi police’.

‘Would it not be wiser to follow him instead? He might lead us to Lord Chatfield’.

‘That I had thought of before but at this stage of the investigation, we cannot afford to let him get away, like Lord Chatfield’.

‘But will he confess?’

‘I am counting on it!’

‘You realise that you are playing a calculated game of chess?’

‘Indeed, Bonheur!’

‘If he does not confess then what?’

‘We shall see then!’

It was a precarious game to play, not knowing what to expect from my meeting with Mr Fletcher, but I was confident that he would be nervous by my imposture to reveal to us the information we needed to apprehend Lord Chatfield. We met that midday at the local café, where we cordially introduced each other like gentlemen. I presented myself as a dealer of antiquities. After the exchange of formalities, we began the discussion, and I enquired about the price and quantity of his rubies. He then proceeded to inform me about these things in depth.

When I asked him where his factory was located, he only disclosed certain details but never the specific location. I could tell that he was beginning to suspect something odd in my questioning. Thus, I desisted from asking him about the location and offered him a reasonable price for the purchase of the rubies. We made a verbal agreement and shook hands. It was then that he rose to his feet and walked away, but he did not get far. The local police had arrested him.

I told Bonheur about the information given to me by Mr Fletcher. It was not sufficient to tell us where Lord Chatfield was hiding, but at the local police station Mr Fletcher confessed to supplying the rubies to Lord Chatfield.
He would never confess to being an actual member of the secret society of the Nine Unknown Men.

When he was asked to provide proof, he would hand over business transactions he had with Lord Chatfield implicating him. He could not give us an address for where Lord Chatfield was. He only revealed to us that he would stay at local hotels. It was not the information I was anticipating, but it did offer me some insight into the whereabouts of Lord Chatfield.

Their contact was minimal and limited only to business affairs—nothing involving the criminal activities of the secret society. I suspected that Mr Fletcher was not divulging the entire truth. At that moment, we had to be satisfied with the details he had provided. Bonheur was as anxious to trap Lord Chatfield as I was. We could not afford for him to escape or to notice our presence in the city.

Therefore, I planned to capture him by utilising the same tactics that had proven effective. We had no idea where he was staying. We had searched all the potential hotels he might be at and were able to narrow it down to a few. He did not register under his real name but was using an alias to conceal his true identity. I would pose as an interested purchaser of rubies. It was at one of these hotels, named in English the Royal Inn, that we found the vulpine Lord Chatfield. From what the receptionist told us, a man matching his description was staying there.

We arrived and waited for him to pass through the lobby. Once we saw him heading towards the exit, I approached and introduced myself. I was in disguise, and I felt he did not notice me at all. I was forced to alter my voice so that he would not perceive the usual intonation in my speech.

He was pressed for time and gave me an address where I could locate him. He was wary about being apprehended. The address, I was told later by the receptionist, was on the outskirts of the city. It was dangerous for me to accept this address, but I realised we had come too far to let him escape.

I accepted the invitation and informed Bonheur of the occurrence. It was settled—we would go to this anonymous place prepared. Bonheur asked if I thought he suspected who I was and was baiting us into a trap. That was a feasible deduction, but I was willing to take the necessary risk.

Before I met Lord Chatfield in person, I received the terrible news that Mr Fletcher had been murdered in the prison cell he was occupying at the time. He had been strangled to death. He was our principal witness in the case, but fortunately for us, he had given us damaging evidence implicating Lord Chatfield.

Perhaps it was foolish to believe he would be safe in the confines of a gaol. It was evident the secret society of the Nine Unknown Men had urgently sent a member to kill Mr Fletcher. There was no doubt in my mind that he was murdered to silence his voice forever. It also seemed to me that the organisation was far more powerful than I had previously assumed.

Bonheur and the local policemen would assist me from a nearby distance, watching every step taken by Lord Chatfield. We could not afford to underestimate his abilities. He had proven to be a worthy adversary. It was close to late afternoon when I arrived at the clandestine place surrounded by a forest of ample trees, with a mountainous range in the background.

The place was an abandoned Hindu shrine. It was not a residence at all, as I had been told. It was an ideal location for a secret meeting or a planned murder. It was somewhat humid, as the clouds had begun to darken. There was a particular eeriness prevailing over the landscape.

Then the figure of Lord Chatfield appeared from behind the ancient shrine. He was carrying a gun, pointing it directly at me. He had his golden ring, with scarlet rubies surrounded by four impressive cobras.

'Inspector Cauvain. It is good to see you again. I regret it must be under these unexpected terms. I must commend you on discovering the ruby and the ring'.

'Give up, Lord Chatfield, you have no other recourse but to surrender'.

'Surrender? Did you honestly believe you could fool me? I knew from the start it was you, inspector'.

'How?'

'Let’s say I am a better actor than you'.

'If so, then why did you allow Mr Fletcher to be arrested? Why did you not inform him of my presence?'

'Because I had no need for him to assist me any longer'.

'So that is why you had him killed?'

'If you say so!'

'And Lord Barrington?'

'The same!'

'You are aware I have direct evidence linking you with the purchase of the rubies and your involvement in the murders of members of the British Society in Patna? I know you are a member of the Nine Unknown Men'.

'You have not established a motive, inspector?'

'The motive is simple, Lord Chatfield. It is the oldest form of greed—power! Will you not concede that fact?' I said.

'You want me to acknowledge my guilt?' He interjected.

'I want you to admit that you are defeated!'

'Not exactly. You see, I still have one pawn left, and that is a gun pointing at you', he said with a sarcastic expression.

His supercilious grin and imposing eyes were penetrating as his finger was ready to pull the trigger at any moment. Then, from the deep shadows of the forest, a wild Bengal tiger emerged, lurking behind Lord Chatfield. The haughty lord did not sense the immediate peril and would not have time to react. The massive tiger pounced on him, killing him instantly. A shot rang out into the air as Lord Chatfield tried to shoot at me.

One of the policemen nearby scared the tiger away with several shots. Bonheur rushed to me to check if I had been wounded in the skirmish. I was unharmed and had avoided the tiger’s attack. Lord Chatfield was not so fortunate to survive the brutality of the tiger’s rage.

'Inspector Cauvain, are you injured?' Bonheur enquired.

'No, I am fine, Bonheur. I have only a few minor scratches from a fall when I tripped'.

'I am glad to hear that'.

'Have you checked if Lord Chatfield is alive?'

'He is dead, inspector'.

'I was not expecting this to end like it did. In particular, for a tiger to end Lord Chatfield’s life. I thought he would be captured and sent to prison'.

'Sometimes, the criminal seeks his own death,' Bonheur uttered.

'I see that point very clearly. Mauled to death by a tiger is not the way I would choose to die'.

'I don’t think anyone would disagree with you, inspector'.

'The good thing is that we shall have all the evidence needed to resolve this case'.

'What is there to resolve, inspector? The killer is dead'.

'True, Bonheur, but I would have wanted Lord Chatfield to confess to his participation in the murders and pay for his crimes'.

'Ultimately, he has—with his life'.

'Well, perhaps it is better we leave this sacred place and permit the New Delhi police to deal with Lord Chatfield’s body'.

Bonheur and I left the area and returned to central New Delhi to wait for the next train to Calcutta. We thanked the local police in New Delhi for their assistance in apprehending Lord Chatfield. His body would be sent back to England for a proper burial. His involvement in the murders would lead to a scandal incriminating other prominent British elites.

As for the unveiling of the secret society, we would never know the full extent of their membership or organisation. It was indeed one of the most bizarre cases and endings I had ever experienced in all my numerous encounters with criminals. One thing was certain in my mind: it would not be the last time I would have to confront the influence of a secret society.

After the dust had settled and the grim events at the abandoned shrine had passed, Bonheur and I found ourselves sitting in a quiet compartment aboard the night train bound for Calcutta. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks offered a strange sort of solace, but my mind was anything but calm. Lord Chatfield was dead, yet the web of intrigue surrounding the Nine Unknown Men had only deepened.

'Inspector,' Bonheur said quietly, breaking the silence, 'We may have won this battle, but the war is far from over. The society’s grip extends beyond these borders. They have tendrils in every corner of the Empire, and perhaps beyond'.

I nodded grimly, staring out the window at the ghostly blur of passing trees. The secret society was no longer a shadow lurking just behind Lord Chatfield’s deeds — it was a looming spectre threatening to engulf all we held dear.

Our conversation was interrupted by a discreet knock at the compartment door. A man in a dark suit and a worn bowler hat slipped inside, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

'Inspector Cauvain?' He asked in a low voice.

I rose cautiously. 'Yes, that is I. And you are?'

'My name is Mr Patel. I represent certain interests within the Calcutta police. We have been monitoring your progress and believe your pursuit of the Nine Unknown Men aligns with our own investigations'.

Bonheur exchanged a glance with me. The timing was suspicious. Yet, we had no choice but to hear him out.

'There is a meeting taking place in Calcutta, in the heart of the city, at an estate known as Chandran Hall. It is said to be a gathering of the society’s higher echelon', Mr Patel explained. 'If you wish to learn the truth, you must infiltrate it'.

The gravity of this information settled heavily upon us. Bonheur and I exchanged a brief nod. It was clear what we had to do next.

The following evening, cloaked by the shroud of darkness and a light drizzle, Bonheur and I made our way to Chandran Hall. The estate was an imposing structure — an architectural marvel of Gothic spires intertwined with Indian motifs — hidden behind towering iron gates and dense foliage. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, masking the tension that lay beneath the surface.

As we approached the grand entrance, Bonheur whispered, 'Remember, the society is notoriously suspicious of strangers. We must play our roles flawlessly'.

I nodded and took a deep breath. Our disguises were convincing—Bonheur as a wealthy merchant from Bombay, and myself as his European associate interested in securing powerful allies.

We were ushered inside by silent attendants and led through dimly lit corridors to a large hall where the murmur of low voices echoed. The room was filled with men draped in dark robes, their faces obscured by ornate masks. A heavy velvet curtain marked the end of the chamber, beyond which the leaders of the Nine Unknown Men awaited.

I caught a glimpse of an intricately embroidered emblem on one of the robes—a serpent coiled around a lotus, a symbol we had seen before on Lord Chatfield’s ring. The pieces were falling into place.

A man stepped forth from behind the curtain—tall, regal, with piercing eyes that seemed to bore into the soul. He had a distinctive ruby ring.

'Welcome', he said, his voice a blend of menace and charm. 'I am known as the Serpent, one of the council’s highest ranks'.

My heart quickened, but I maintained my composure. 'We come seeking knowledge and alliance', I said. 'To rid the world of corruption from within'.

The Serpent smiled thinly. 'Corruption? Or control? The line is often blurred'.

He gestured to two attendants who brought forth a large wooden box, ornately carved with symbols of ancient knowledge. 'You must prove your loyalty before the council will share its secrets', he intoned. 'Are you prepared for the trial?'

Before I could answer, the curtain behind us shifted, and a cold chill swept through the room. I realised then that this was far more than a mere society—it was a cult of immense power, mystery, and darkness.

The trial was merciless. Bound by oaths and tested through riddles and symbolic tasks, Bonheur and I fought to maintain our cover while seeking a way to reveal the society’s true nature. One test required us to decipher ancient texts etched into stone tablets—writings that hinted at the society’s plans for domination through subterfuge and assassination.

Throughout the trial, I caught fleeting glimpses of other prisoners—individuals who had dared to expose the Nine Unknown Men and now faced a fate worse than death. Their eyes held a desperate plea for rescue.

The climax came when the Serpent summoned us before a sacred altar, illuminated by flickering candlelight. 'You have passed the trial, but one final test remains', he declared. 'Swear your loyalty and join us, or face oblivion'.

I felt Bonheur’s hand tighten around my arm, a silent warning. I looked at the Serpent and replied firmly, 'We seek justice, not tyranny. Your power will not go unchallenged',

The hall erupted into chaos as robed figures lunged towards us. Bonheur and I fought fiercely, leveraging our surroundings and wit to escape the deadly grip of the council. We were fortunate to have fled into the night, hearts pounding, minds racing with the knowledge that our enemy was far greater than we had imagined.

Back in the safety of our quarters, Bonheur and I pored over the documents we had managed to seize during our escape. Amongst them was a detailed ledger naming members of the British elite, government officials, and foreign dignitaries—all entangled in the shadowy web of the Nine Unknown Men.

'Our fight is only beginning', Bonheur murmured, exhaustion evident in his voice.

I nodded in agreement. The mystery of the Nine Unknown Men had deepened, revealing embedded layers of conspiracy, betrayal, and untold power. But with every step, we were closer to unveiling the darkness that threatened to consume us all in this intricate case.

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