“How about the code in the old man’s drawer?”
“It doesn’t interest us. Probably some private data that belonged to Marchand. I had photostats made so the experts can get busy on it. I did that to please Marchand’s friend, Doctor Lukens, but I sent them all away and gave the original back to Lukens.”
“I’d like to see it. Maybe I could figure it out.”
Cardona was thoughtful.
“I guess I could recall one of the copies and let you have it. But you’re not reporting for a paper now, are you, Burke?”
“No. I’m running a clipping bureau.”
“Fine job for a newspaperman. Give me your address, Burke. I’ll send the code along by mail.”
“By the way, Joe,” said Burke, “what’s the low-down on this Marchand case? The sheets didn’t carry much of a story on it.”
The detective seemed reluctant to talk; then, prompted by Burke’s questioning, he eventually delivered all the important details of Marchand’s death.
CLYDE BURKE returned to his office. There, with the facility of a trained journalist, he typed the essential features of the detective’s account. Beneath the report he placed the words: “Copy of code will follow.”