in the dead of night, would have troubled him not at all.

It was some time in the middle of the night, about a week after Bexell
had sent him back the papers, that he awoke suddenly and completely, and
there before him, as clearly as though it had been written in letters of
fire on the black wall, he saw the title of the wished-for book. It was
the book mentioned by Platzoff in his prefatory note: _The Confessions
of Parthenio the Mystic_. The knowledge had come to him like a
revelation. How stupid he must have been never to have thought of it
before! That night he slept no more.

Next morning he went to one of the most famous bookdealers in the
metropolis. The book inquired for by Ducie was not known to the man. But
that did not say that there was no such work in existence. Through his
agents at home and abroad inquiry should be made, and the result
communicated to Captain Ducie. Therewith the latter was obliged to
content himself. Three days later came a pressing note of invitation
from Platzoff.




CHAPTER XI

BON REPOS.


On a certain fine morning towards the end of May, Captain Ducie took
train at Euston Square, and late the same afternoon was set down at
Windermere. A fly conveyed himself and his portmanteau to the edge of