'Can you doubt it? in the shape of a cloud, the pitch of a thrush's
note, the _nuance_ of a sea-shell you would find, had you only insight
_enough_, inductive and deductive cunning _enough_, not only a meaning,
but, I am convinced, a quite endless significance. Undoubtedly, in a
human document of this kind, there is a meaning; and I may say at once
that this meaning is entirely transparent to me. Pity only that you did
not read the diary to me before.'

'Why?'

'Because we might, between us, have prevented a crime, and saved a
life. The last entry in the diary was made on the 15th of July. What
day is this?'

'This is the 20th.'

'Then I would wager a thousand to one that we are too late. There is
still, however, the one chance left. The time is now seven o'clock:
seven of the evening, I think, not of the morning; the houses of
business in London are therefore closed. But why not send my man, Ham,
with a letter by train to the private address of the person from whom
you obtained the diary, telling him to hasten immediately to Sir
Jocelin Saul, and on no consideration to leave his side for a moment?
Ham would reach this person before midnight, and understanding that the
matter was one of life and death, he would assuredly do your bidding.'

As I was writing the note suggested by Zaleski, I turned and asked him:

'From whom shall I say that the danger is to be expected--from the