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 read it:—­

“To James Allerdyke, Hotel Grand Monarch, St. Petersburg.

“Your wire received.  If Princess will confide goods to your care to personally bring over here have no doubt matter can be speedily and satisfactorily arranged.  Have important client now in town until middle May who seems to be best man to approach and is likely to be a generous buyer.

“Franklin Fullaway, Waldorf Hotel, London.”

Here was another surprise:  Allerdyke had never in his life heard James mention the name—­Franklin Fullaway.  Yet here Mr. Franklin Fullaway, whoever he might be, was wiring to James as only a business acquaintance of some standing would wire.  And here again was the mention of a Princess—­presumably, nay, evidently, the Princess to whom reference was made in the diary.  And there was mention, too, of goods—­probably valuable goods—­to be confided to James’s care for conveyance to England, to London, for sale to some prospective purchaser.  If James had brought them, where were they?  So far as Allerdyke had ascertained, James had no luggage beyond his big suitcase and the handbag which now stood on the table before his own eyes—­he was a man for travelling light, James, and never encumbered himself with more than indispensable necessities.  Where, then—­

A tap at the door of the sitting-room prefaced the entry of the two medical men.

“We heard from the manager that you were in this room, Mr. Allerdyke,” said Dr. Orwin.  “Well, we made a further examination of your relative, and we still incline to the opinion expressed already.  Now, if you approve it, I will arrange at once for communicating with the Coroner, removing the body, and having an autopsy performed.  As Dr. Lydenberg has business in the town which will keep him here a few days, he will join me, and it will be more satisfactory to you, no doubt, if another doctor is called—­I should advise the professional police surgeon.  If you will leave it to me—­”

“I’ll leave everything of that sort to you, doctor,” said Allerdyke.  “I’m much obliged to both of you, gentlemen.  You understand what I’m anxious about?—­I want to be certain—­certain, mind you!—­of the cause of my cousin’s death.  Now you speak of removing him?  Then I’ll just go and take a look at him before that’s done.”

He presently locked up his rooms, leaving the hand-bag there, also locked, and went alone to the room in which James lay dead.  Most folks who knew Marshall Allerdyke considered him a hard, unsentimental man, but there were tears in his eyes as he stooped over his cousin’s body and laid his hand on the cold forehead.  Once more he broke into familiar, muttered speech.