These entries puzzled Allerdyke. His cousin had been going over to Russia
at least twice a year for three years, but he had never heard him mention
that he had formed the acquaintance of any person of princely rank. Who
was this Princess with whom James had evidently become on such friendly
terms that they had lunched and dined together? James had twice written
to him during his absence--he had both letters in his pocket then, and
one of them was dated from St. Petersburg on April 24th, but there was no
mention of any Princess in either. Seeking for an explanation, he came to
the conclusion that James, who had a slight weakness for the society of
ladies connected with the stage, had made the acquaintance of some
actress or other, ballet-dancer, singer, artiste, and had given her the
nickname of Princess.

That was all there was to be got from the diary. It amounted to
nothing. There were, however, the loose papers. He began to examine
these methodically. They were few in number--James was the sort of man
who never keeps anything which can be destroyed: Allerdyke knew from
experience that he had a horror of accumulating what he called rubbish.
These papers, fastened together with a band of india-rubber, were all
business documents, with one exception--a letter from Allerdyke himself
addressed to Stockholm, to wait James's arrival. There were some
specifications relating to building property; there was a schedule of
the timber then standing in a certain pine forest in Sweden in which
James had a valuable share; there was a balance-sheet of a Moscow
trading concern in which he had invested money; there were odds and ends
of a similar nature--all financial. From these papers Allerdyke could
only select one which he did not understand, which conveyed no meaning
to him. This was a telegram, dispatched from London on April 21st, at
eleven o'clock in the morning. He spread it out on the table and slowly