Sir Richard reached for this sheet as he darted a sly aside toward Fay.
“We have here,â€� said the chief, “an ordinary piece of fairly good typewriting paper. It was made in Germany. It contains thirty-two lines of letters—grouped three letters together. They read ‘aaahhhsssaaacccstopxxxgggssstttstopmmmwww’ and so on. It has long been suspected that the cipher was written between the lines or on the back of the sheets. No chemical reaction that we tried brought any satisfactory result. We tried them all. It remained for chance to solve the puzzle in a satisfactory manner.â€�
Sir Richard glanced at the cluster of lights that
bathed the room in white. He blinked and held out the sheet. He reached and picked up the pair of tinted goggles which MacKeenon had brought from the stable.
“These glasses,� he said, “are not sufficiently opaque to answer the purpose. Fay,� he added with a twinkle, “you are to be complimented on your enterprise. You took that safe, in the country north and east of here, like Haig took Cambrai. You held the secret. You lost it and gained it again. You threw it away and then thought better of the matter when you followed the cardsharper to see why he wore smoked-glasses. I know why he wore them!�
“Why?� said Fay quickly.
“Because he’s a genius in his own peculiar line. I hope to have the pleasure of sending him away sometime. With the kind of glasses he wears, no man is safe in a friendly poker game.�
Fay stared at Saidee Isaacs. She crimsoned over the memory of the thirty-odd pounds she had lost to Harry Raymond.
“I’d like to know how he does it?� she asked.
Sir Richard laid the sheet of paper on the table. He tossed the tinted glasses to one side as he rose and pointed toward the snap-switch on the wainscoting.