The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation | Page 8

it was beyond him, with his limited knowledge, to
account for James's sudden death, except on the hypothesis suggested
by the two doctors. All sorts of vague, half-formed thoughts were in his
mind. Was there any person who desired James's death? Had any one
tracked him to this place--got rid of him by some subtle means? Had--
"Pshaw!" he muttered, suddenly interrupting his train of thought, and
recognizing how shapeless and futile it all was. "It just comes to

this--I'm asking myself if the poor lad was murdered! And what have I
to go on? Naught--naught at all!"
Nevertheless, there were papers before him which had been taken from
James's pocket; there was the little journal or diary which he always
carried, and in which, to Allerdyke's knowledge, he always jotted down
a brief note of each day's proceedings wherever he went. He could
examine these, at any rate--they might cast some light on his cousin's
recent doings.
He began with the diary, turning over its pages until he came to the
date on which James had left Bradford for St. Petersburg. That was on
March 30th. He had travelled to the Russian capital overland--by way
of Berlin and Vilna, at each of which places he had evidently broken
his journey. From St. Petersburg he had gone on to Moscow, where he
had spent the better part of a week. All his movements were clearly set
out in the brief pencilled entries in the journal. From Moscow he had
returned to St. Petersburg; there he had stayed a fortnight; thence he
had journeyed to Revel, from Revel he had crossed the Baltic to
Stockholm; from Stockholm he had gone across country to Christiania.
And from Christiania he had sailed for Hull to meet his death in that
adjacent room where the doctors were now busied with his body.
Marshall Allerdyke, though he had no actual monetary connection with
them, had always possessed a fairly accurate knowledge of his cousin's
business affairs--James was the sort of man who talked freely to his
intimates about his doings. Therefore Allerdyke was able to make out
from the journal what James had done during his stay at St. Petersburg,
in Moscow, in Revel, and in Stockholm, in all of which places he had
irons of one sort or another in the fire. He recognized the names of
various firms upon which James had called--these names were as
familiar to him as those of the big manufacturing concerns in his own
town. James had been to see this man, this man had been to see James.
He had dined with such an one; such an one had dined with him.
Ordinarily innocent entries, all these; there was no subtle significance
to be attached to any of them: they were just the sort of entries which
the busy commercial man, engaged in operations of some magnitude,

would make for his own convenience.
There was, in short, nothing in that tiny book--a mere, waistcoat-pocket
sort of affair--which Allerdyke was at a loss to understand, or which
excited any wonder or speculation in him: with one exception. That
exception was in three entries: brief, bald, mere lines, all made during
James's second stay--the fortnight period--in St. Petersburg. They
were:--
April 18: Met Princess.
April 20: Lunched with Princess.
April 23: Princess dined with me.
These entries puzzled Allerdyke. His cousin had been going over to
Russia at least twice a year for three years, but he had never heard him
mention that he had formed the acquaintance of any person of princely
rank. Who was this Princess with whom James had evidently become
on such friendly terms that they had lunched and dined together? James
had twice written to him during his absence--he had both letters in his
pocket then, and one of them was dated from St. Petersburg on April
24th, but there was no mention of any Princess in either. Seeking for an
explanation, he came to the conclusion that James, who had a slight
weakness for the society of ladies connected with the stage, had made
the acquaintance of some actress or other, ballet-dancer, singer, artiste,
and had given her the nickname of Princess.
That was all there was to be got from the diary. It amounted to nothing.
There were, however, the loose papers. He began to examine these
methodically. They were few in number--James was the sort of man
who never keeps anything which can be destroyed: Allerdyke knew
from experience that he had a horror of accumulating what he called
rubbish. These papers, fastened together with a band of india-rubber,
were all business documents, with one exception--a letter from
Allerdyke himself addressed to Stockholm, to wait James's arrival.
There were some specifications relating to building property; there was
a schedule of the timber then