Slowly and carefully, inside and out of the carriage in which he and Platzoff had travelled, Captain Ducie conducted his search. One by one he again turned over the wraps and different articles of personal luggage belonging to both of them, which had not yet been removed. The first object that rewarded his search was a splendid diamond pin which he remembered having seen in Platzoff's scarf. Ducie picked it up and looked cautiously around. No one was regarding him. "Of the first water, and worth a hundred guineas at the very least," he muttered. Then he put it in his waistcoat pocket, and went on with his search. A minute or two later, hidden away under one of the cushions of the carriage, he found what he was looking for: a folded sheet of thick blue paper covered with a complicated array of figures--that and nothing more. Captain Ducie regarded the recovered treasure with a strange mixture of feelings. His hands trembled slightly; his heart was beating more quickly than usual; his eyes seemed to see and yet not to see the paper in his hands. Like one mazed and in deep doubt he stood. His reverie was broken by the approach of some of the railway officials. The cloud vanished from before his eyes, and he was his cool imperturbable self in a moment. Heading the long array of figures on the parchment were a few lines of ordinary writing, written, however, not in English, but Italian. These few lines Ducie now proceeded to read over more attentively than he had done at the first glance. He was sufficiently master of Italian to be able to translate them without much difficulty. Translated they ran as under:-- "Bon Repos, "Windermere." "Carlo Mio,--In the Amsterdam edition of 1698 of _The Confessions of Parthenio the Mystic_ occur the passages given below. To your serious consideration, O! friend of my heart, I recommend these words. To read them, much patience is required. But they are freighted with wisdom, as you will discover long before you reach the end of them, and have a deep significance for that Great Cause to which the souls of both of us are knit by bonds which in this life can never be severed. When you read these lines, the hand that writes them will be cold in the grave. But Nature allows nothing to be lost, and somewhere in the wide universe the better part of me (the mystic Ego) will still exist; and if there be any truth in the doctrine of the Affinity of Souls, then shall you and I meet again elsewhere. Till that time shall come--Adieu! "Thine, "Paul Platzoff." Having carefully read these lines twice over, Captain Ducie refolded the paper, put it away in an inner pocket, and buttoned his coat over it. Then he took his way, deep in thought, back to the "Golden Griffin." The Russian's eager eyes asked him "What success?" before he could say a word.