She cocked her funny little head sidewise, and then wagged it knowingly as she took a few steps further and looked at the paper from another angle. All round the table she went, and finally, with a murmur of apology, took up the paper and held it laterally in front of her eager eyes.
“Whee!” she crowed in an ecstasy of satisfaction; “I’ve got it! You have to have a pattern to read it by.”
“A pattern!” I repeated, blankly.
“Yep! A paper with holes in it,—a key-paper.”
“Oh!” and Wise looked as if a light had burst upon him. “That’s it, Ziz! You’re the wonder-child, after all! Stoo-pid! Stoo-pid!” and he beat his forehead in self-abasement. “And, oh! I say, Brice, what did you tell me once about Swiss cheese?”
“Swiss cheese?”
“Yes; don’t you remember? A carriage-call check—with holes in it.”
“Oh, that thing. Yes; it was on Mr. Gately’s desk,—Hudson, the foxy detective, took it.”
“Can we get it?”
“Of course, by sending for it.”