“Good for you, Sherlock!” Sim exclaimed. “And what do we do next? Go home and work out the cryptogram?”
“Something like that,” Arden answered. “I’ve got a plan. Let’s get going, and we’ll see how it works out. Terry, is it too late to go to town for just a few minutes? What I’m going to do won’t take long.”
“What are you going to do?” Terry questioned. “Tell us.”
“I thought of going to the drug store and trying to trace the writer of this note by getting information of the New York telephone company,” Arden told them.
“Good idea, Ard! Of course we have time for that. And, anyway, we’d better do it while you still remember the words,” Terry said.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t forget them,” Arden replied with the first show of relief they had felt in some time. “A Blake never forgets!”
They piled into the car and rode along the deserted road to the village. The drug store was fortunately empty except for a rather stupid-looking boy clerk.
Arden entered the phone booth, and her chums crowded around her. They waited impatiently for the really short interval it took to make the connection with the New York office. As the clear sharp voice of the girl sang out “Information,” Arden explained the difficulty.
“We are trying to get the phone number of an address in New York,” she said, “but we’ve torn the paper. I’ll give you as much as I can. Do you think you can help us?”
“Sorry, madam,” came the voice, “but I can’t possibly trace the name.”