She nodded. "Yes, I want to know if we are allies—or enemies. I know I have treated you abominably, but I was driven half mad by the thought that Bob was dead. Now we are working together—are we not?"
He made a little gesture with his hands, helplessly as one at a loss.
"In so far as we both wish to get Grell out of his difficulty—and I wish I knew what that was—yes," he replied. "I don't believe him to be a murderer, but why does he remain in hiding? He is not the sort of man to do foolish things, and that is foolish on the face of it. He has some strong reason for being out of the way. Can you explain?"
She pulled her chair closer to him, and laid one slim hand on his.
"I cannot explain—I can only trust. He looked to us to help him. I know that he wants money, for he sent a friend to tell me. I had none, but I gave her my jewels. Detectives were watching her, and they, with the connivance of my father, took them from her. Now, you, his most intimate friend, must help him. He has given you the key to the cipher which will appear, and then, I suppose, he will tell you how to get it to him."
She had apparently taken it for granted that the baronet was with her in whole-souled devotion to her lover. His fingers beat a tattoo on his knee.
"So that advertisement was the key to a cipher? Do you know when I shall get a message?"
"I shall get one to-morrow. You—who knows?"
"Then you can tell me how to read it?"