“Would possession of the information that is contained in the Ms. enable anyone to work you harm?”

“It would to this extent, that it would put them in possession of a cherished secret, which—­But why talk of these things?  What is done cannot be undone.  I can only prepare myself for the worst.”

“One moment,” said Ducie.  “I think that after the thorough search made by me the chances are twenty to one against the Ms. ever being found.  But granting that it does turn up, the finder of it will probably be some ignorant navvie or incurious official, without either inclination or ability to master the secret of the cipher.”

* * * * *

Ten days later M. Platzoff was sufficiently recovered to set out for Bon Repos.  At his earnest request Ducie had put off his own journey to stay with him.  At another time the ex-Captain might not have cared to spend ten days at a forlorn country tavern, even with a rich Russian; but as he often told himself he had “his book to make,” and he probably looked upon this as a necessary part of the process.  Before they parted, it was arranged that as soon as Ducie should return from Scotland he should go and spend a month at Bon Repos.  Then the two shook hands, and each went his own way.  As one day passed after another without bringing any tidings of the lost Ms., Platzoff’s anxiety respecting it seemed to lessen, and by the time he left “The Golden Griffin” he had apparently ceased to trouble his mind any further in the matter.

CHAPTER X.

The stolen manuscript.

Captain Edmund Ducie came of a good family.  His people were people of mark among the landed gentry of their county, and were well-to-do even for their position.  Although only a fourth son, his allowance had been a very handsome one, both while at Cambridge and afterwards during the early years of his life in the army.  When of age, he had come into the very nice little fortune, for a fourth son, of nine thousand pounds; and it was known that there would be “something handsome” for him at his father’s death.  He had a more than ordinary share of good looks; his mind was tolerably cultivated, and afterwards enlarged by travel and service in various parts of the world; in manners and address he was a finished gentleman of the modern school.  Yet all these advantages of nature and fortune were in a great measure nullified and rendered of no avail by reason of one fatal defect, of one black speck at the core.  In a word, Captain Ducie was a born gambler.