“No,” he concluded, “nothing like that. The message is all told on the surface, and he who runs may read.”
“Read, ‘The Waldorf-Astoria, December 7.’” I scoffed. “And is the reader greatly enlightened?”
“Not yet, but soon,” Wise murmured, as he kept up his investigation. “Ha!” he went on, “as the actor hath it,—what have we here!”
He was now scrutinizing the ends of two burnt cigarettes, left on the ash-tray of the smoking-set.
“The lady has left her initials! How kind of her!”
“Why, Hudson studied those and couldn’t make out any letters,” I exclaimed.
“Blind Hudson! These very dainty and expensive cigarettes belonged to a fair one, whose name began with K and S,—or S and K. Be careful how you touch it, but surely you can see that the tops of the letters though scorched, show definitely enough to know they must be K and S.”
“They are!” cried Norah; “I can see it now.”
“Couldn’t that S be an O?” I caviled.
“Nope,” and Wise shook his head. “The two, though both nearly burnt away, show for sure that the letters are K and S. Here’s a find! Does Miss Raynor smoke?”