Tchigorsky hung over the papers before him as if inspired. There was not much, apparently, in the book with the metal clasps, but that little seemed to be fascinating to a degree. The Russian turned it over till he came to the end.
"You appear to be satisfied," Geoffrey said.
"Satisfied is a poor word to express my feelings," Tchigorsky replied. He stretched himself; he drew a deep breath like one who has been under water.
"I have practically everything here in this diary," he said. "It is written in a language you would fail to understand, but it is all like print to me. Everything is traced down from the first of the family catastrophes to the last attempt by means of the bees. There are letters from Lassa containing instructions for the preparation of certain drugs and poisons; in fact, here is everything."
"So that we are rid of our foes at last?"
"Not quite. The princess is cunning. We shall have to extract a confession from her; we shall have to get her and her two slaves together. It is all a matter of hours, but we shall have to be circumspect. If the woman finds she is baffled she may be capable of a bitter revenge to finish with."
"What are you going to do?" Geoffrey asked.
"We are going back to the castle the same way we came," Tchigorsky explained. "We are going to show your uncle Ralph our find. For the present it is not expedient that Sergius Tchigorsky should come to life again."
The box was locked once more and replaced, and then the two burglars crept from the house. They had not disturbed anybody, for the upper windows of the farmhouse were all in darkness.
A brisk walk brought them to the castle. Upstairs a dim light was still burning in Ralph Ravenspur's window. The light flared up at the signal, and a few minutes later the three were seated round the lamp, while the window was darkened again.