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Updated: June 28, 2025
Seven years before, he said, in December, 1750, there was a brilliant foreigner named Peloti among the officers of Major de la Touche, a young soldier who had been singled out by Dupleix, the French Governor of Pondicherry, as a military genius of the first order.
Come with me, and I promise you that within two years you shall be rich beyond your wildest dreams." "Put up your diamond, Mr. Peloti. You may repeat your offer when we reach Colonel Clive." Diggle stopped as if shot. He looked with startled eyes at the boy, who had known him only as Diggle. "You are going to Colonel Clive!" he exclaimed.
His mother married a Greek, against her brother's wish; the man died when the child was a year old. As a boy Peloti was as charming a little fellow as one could wish: handsome, high spirited, clever. He did well at school, and afterwards at Cambridge: won a fellowship there. Then he went to the dogs not all at once; men never do.
"Have you anything to say for yourself, Mr. Peloti?" "Pardon me, Mr. Clive; Diggle Marmaduke Diggle." "Diggle, if you like," said Clive with a shrug. "You will hang as well in that name as another." One of the officers smiled at the grim jest, but there was no smile on Clive's stern set face. "You asked me if I had anything to say for myself," said Diggle quietly.
This casket was given to Peloti to deliver: he had abused his trust by abstracting the gem of the collection, a beautiful diamond; and the theft being accidentally discovered, Dupleix in his rage ordered the thief to be branded on the right hand with the word 'fur, and drummed him out of the French service.
"To think of that villain once more escaping our clutches! The other fellow was a Frenchman, you say? There's mischief brewing. Sure if I was president I'd be tempted to arrest that wily old Omichand. Not that it would be of much use, probably. Peloti is a bold fellow to venture here. You are sure 'twas he?" "Absolutely.
Among the large native population of Bombay there were many who were suspected of being secret agents of the French, and as Diggle was well provided with funds it was not at all unlikely that his jailer had been tampered with. Merriman's wrath was very bitter. He had been waiting for years, as he told Desmond, for the punishment of Peloti.
He was absolutely without principle, and thought of nothing but his own ease and success. One thing led to another; at last, in the forty-five " He paused. After a moment he went on: "I had a brother, my lad " He stopped again, his face expressing poignant grief. "I know, sir," said Desmond. "Sir Willoughby told me." "He told you! He did not mention Peloti?" "No, sir; but I see it all now.
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