Find green the same as shiretown's name,
Find Newgate Gaol, and win!
Dr. Fell's pencil worked rapidly, making unintelligible symbols. He grunted, shook his head, and returned to the verses again. Reaching to a revolving bookshelf beside him, he took down a black-bound volume labelled, "L. Fleissner, Handbuck der Kryptographik," and glanced at the index, scowling again.
"Drafghk!" he snapped, like one who says "damn." "That works out to 'drafghk,' which is nonsense. I'll swear the thing isn't a substitution cipher at all. I'll try Latin as well as English on the tests. I'll get it. The classical background always triumphs. Never, young man," he said, fiercely, "forget that…. What's the matter, Miss Starberth?"
The girl was leaning both hands on the table, her dark hair gleaming under the light. She let out a small laugh as she glanced up.
"I was only thinking," she returned, in a puzzled way, "that, if you disregarded punctuation…,"
"What?"
"Well… look at the first verse. `Homer's tale of Troy.' That's the Iliad, isn't it? `Country of the midnight sun.' That's Norway. If you took each of the lines separately, and put down the definition for each — I hope I'm not being silly," she hesitated, "and put down the definition for each as a separate word…."
"My God!" said Rampole, "it's a cross-word puzzle!"
"Nonsense!" shouted Dr. Fell, growing more red in the face.