perhaps have scarcely cared to put by broad daylight.

"Have you heard any news of your lost manuscript?"

"None whatever," answered Platzoff. "Neither do I expect, after this
lapse of time, to hear anything further concerning it. It has probably
never been found, or if found, has (as you suggested at 'The Golden
Griffin') fallen into the hands of someone too ignorant, or too
incurious, to master the secret of the cipher."

"It has been much in my thoughts since I saw you last," said Ducie. "Was
the MS. in your own writing, may I ask?"

"It was in my own writing," answered the Russian. "It was a confidential
communication intended for the eye of my dearest friend, and for his eye
only. It was unfinished when I lost it. I had been staying a few days at
one of your English spas when I joined you in the train on the day of
the accident. The MS., as far as it went, had all been written before I
left home; but I took it with me in my despatch-box, together with other
private papers, although I knew that I could not add a single line to it
while I should be from home. I have wished a thousand times since that I
had left it behind me."

"I have heard of people to whom cryptography is a favourite study," said
the Captain; "people who pride themselves on their ability to master the
most difficult cipher ever invented. Let us hope that your MS. has not
fallen into the hands of one of these clever individuals."

Platzoff shrugged his shoulders. "Let us hope so, indeed," he said.
"But I will not believe in any such untoward event. Too long a time has