“French on.” Still it might make sense or it might not. He looked up No. 3.
The fourth word on the 1039th page was “Your.” “French on your” was going all right, but when he turned up No. 4 and found that the ninth word on page 936 was “Track,” all doubt was at an end. “French on your track.” He had got it with a vengeance!
The remaining words came easily until he came to number 17, Atlas Assurance £922 4s. 5d. The ninth word on page 922 did not make sense. But he had gone so far that this further problem could not long hold him up. After a very few seconds he saw that if he added the shillings and pence of the following line—which showed no figure in the pounds column—to those of the £922, he found the word he wanted. It simply meant that there were more than thirty words preceding that in question on that page of the dictionary. 19 and 11, or 30, was the largest number one line of shillings and pence would show, therefore a larger number than 30 required two lines of shillings and pence to one of pounds. The word “telegrams” had evidently been written as a blind, and he soon saw that the item “balance” was wanted for a similar purpose. After this a few minutes sufficed to turn up all the words, and presently he sat back and looked at the completed result of his work.
“French on your track rendezvous victory hotel lee d s if i fail take your own ticket boat leave s on twenty six t h.”
This as it stood was clear, but he rewrote it, putting in stops and capitals, and joining the broken words.
“French on your track. Rendezvous Victory Hotel, Leeds. If I fail take your own ticket. Boat leaves on twenty-sixth.”
So they were trying to escape by sea, Mrs. Vane and the person who had sent her the warning! Who that person was, French had but little doubt. Almost certainly it was Mr. Vane, and if so, it seemed to him also beyond reasonable doubt that Mr. Vane was the murderer. At all events, whether or not, the person who had sent cipher directions to Mrs. Vane regarding their joint flight was the person he wanted. He chuckled to himself as he thought that he would soon know all about it now. He would soon find the boat they were sailing in, and then he would have them in the hollow of his hand.
But would he? As his eye fell on the almanac hanging above the chimneypiece he swore. Inexorably it reminded him that this was the twenty-sixth. The steamer had left on that very day!
But be that as it might, his procedure was clear. He must find the boat. For a moment he sat considering ways and means, and then his attention was attracted to the wording of the last phrase of the message: “Boat leaves on twenty-sixth.” This surely suggested a clue—that the service was other than daily. Had the latter obtained, the phrase would have been, “Take next Thursday’s boat,” or words to that effect. If his deduction was correct, it meant that the steamer was a sea-going ship, not merely a cross-Channel packet. This view, moreover, was to some extent supported by the probability that the fugitives would almost certainly make for a distant rather than an adjacent country.
From where, then, in the neighbourhood of Leeds, did steamers start to distant lands? Liverpool was, of course, the obvious answer, but it need not necessarily be Liverpool. From Hull and Grimsby, or even Manchester and Goole, ships left for foreign ports. It would be necessary to make a list of all the ocean-going steamers which left all the ports near Leeds on the current date.