No More Learning

In a good man it would have been grand. He being what he was, it was
only a nuisance.

You will believe this much. What you will not believe, is what follows:
Churton, and The Man who Knew that the Bisara was, were lunching at the
Simla Club together. Churton was complaining of life in general. His
best mare had rolled out of stable down the hill and had broken her
back; his decisions were being reversed by the upper Courts, more
than an Assistant Commissioner of eight years' standing has a right to
expect; he knew liver and fever, and, for weeks past, had felt out of
sorts. Altogether, he was disgusted and disheartened.

Simla Club dining-room is built, as all the world knows, in two
sections, with an arch-arrangement dividing them. Come in, turn to your
own left, take the table under the window, and you cannot see any one
who has come in, turning to the right, and taken a table on the right
side of the arch. Curiously enough, every word that you say can be
heard, not only by the other diner, but by the servants beyond the
screen through which they bring dinner. This is worth knowing: an
echoing-room is a trap to be forewarned against.

Half in fun, and half hoping to be believed, The Man who Knew told
Churton the story of the Bisara of Pooree at rather greater length than
I have told it to you in this place; winding up with the suggestion that
Churton might as well throw the little box down the hill and see whether
all his troubles would go with it. In ordinary ears, English ears, the
tale was only an interesting bit of folk-lore. Churton laughed,
said that he felt better for his tiffin, and went out. Pack had been
tiffining by himself to the right of the arch, and had heard everything.
He was nearly mad with his absurd infatuation for Miss Hollis that all
Simla had been laughing about.

It is a curious thing that, when a man hates or loves beyond reason, he
is ready to go beyond reason to gratify his feelings. Which he would not
do for money or power merely. Depend upon it, Solomon would never have
built altars to Ashtaroth and all those ladies with queer names, if
there had not been trouble of some kind in his zenana, and nowhere else.
But this is beside the story. The facts of the case are these: Pack
called on Churton next day when Churton was out, left his card, and
STOLE the Bisara of Pooree from its place under the clock on the
mantelpiece! Stole it like the thief he was by nature. Three days later,
all Simla was electrified by the news that Miss Hollis had accepted
Pack--the shrivelled rat, Pack! Do you desire clearer evidence than
this? The Bisara of Pooree had been stolen, and it worked as it had
always done when won by foul means.

There are three or four times in a man's life when he is justified in
meddling with other people's affairs to play Providence.

The Man who Knew felt that he WAS justified; but believing and acting on
a belief are quite different things. The insolent satisfaction of Pack
as he ambled by the side of Miss Hollis, and Churton's striking release
from liver, as soon as the Bisara of Pooree had gone, decided the Man.
He explained to Churton and Churton laughed, because he was not brought
up to believe that men on the Government House List steal--at least
little things. But the miraculous acceptance by Miss Hollis of that
tailor, Pack, decided him to take steps on suspicion. He vowed that he
only wanted to find out where his ruby-studded silver box had vanished
to.