‘That’s an easy matter,’ Logotheti answered.  ’All cyphers can be read by experts, if there is no hurry, except the mechanical ones that are written through holes in a square plate which you turn round till the sheet is full.  Hardly any one uses those now, because when the square is raised the letters don’t form words, and the cable companies will only transmit real words in some known language, or groups of figures.  The diary is written hastily, too, not at all as if it were copied from the sheet on which the perforated plate would have had to be used, and besides, the plate itself would be amongst his things, for he could not read his own notes without it.’

’All that doesn’t help us, as you have not the diary, but I should really be curious to know what he had to say about the accident, since some of the articles hint that Mr. Van Torp made it happen.’

’My doctor and I took the liberty of confiscating the papers, and we set a very good man to work on the cypher at once.  So your curiosity shall be satisfied.  I said it should, didn’t I?  And you are not so dreadfully bored after all, are you?  Do say that I’m very nice!’

‘I won’t!’ Margaret answered with a little laugh.  ’I’ll only admit that I’m not bored!  But wasn’t it rather a high-handed proceeding to carry off Mr. Feist like that, and to seize his papers?’

‘Do you call it high-handed to keep a man from cutting his throat?’

‘But the letters—?’

’I really don’t know.  I had not time to ask a lawyer’s opinion, and so I had to be satisfied with my doctor’s.’

‘Are you going to tell Mr. Van Torp what you’ve done?’

‘I don’t know.  Why should I?  You may if you like.’

Logotheti was eating a very large and excellent truffle, and after each short sentence he cut off a tiny slice and put it into his mouth.  The Primadonna had already finished hers, and watched him thoughtfully.

‘I’m not likely to see him,’ she said.  ‘At least, I hope not!’

‘My interest in Mr. Feist,’ answered Logotheti, ’begins and ends with what concerns you.  Beyond that I don’t care a straw what happens to Mr. Van Torp, or to any one else.  To all intents and purposes I have got the author of the stories locked up, for a man who has consented to undergo treatment for dipsomania in a private hospital, by the advice of his friends and under the care of a doctor with a great reputation, is as really in prison as if he were in gaol.  Legally, he can get out, but in real fact nobody will lift a hand to release him, because he is shut up for his own good and for the good of the public, just as much as if he were a criminal.  Feist may have friends or relations in America, and they may come and claim him; but as there seems to be nobody in London who cares what becomes of him, it pleases me to keep him in confinement, because I mean to prevent any further mention of your name in connection with the Van Torp scandals.’