"What do you think he'll do?"
"He'll get Bridgers to assist him. Bridgers is a pretty sore man, and the doctor knows just where he can find him."
As Oliva listened an idea slowly dawned in her mind that she might supply a solution to the mystery of the missing code. It was a wildly improbable theory she held, but even so slender a possibility was not to be discarded. She slipped from the group and went back to her room. For the accommodation of his ward, James Kitson had taken the adjoining suite to his own and had secured a lady's maid from an agency for the girl's service. She passed through the sitting-room to her own bedroom, and found the maid putting the room ready for the night.
"Minnie," she said, throwing a quick glance about the apartment, "where did you put the clothes I took off when I came?"
"Here, miss."
The girl opened the wardrobe and Oliva made a hurried search.
"Did you find—anything, a little ticket?"
The girl smiled.
"Oh yes, miss. It was in your stocking."
Oliva laughed.