report of an American chemist that he detected a salt in the composition of the paper. It was so faint, however, that nothing came of it. We’re squarely up against the last card—that big gopher in the embassy!â€�
Fay frowned slightly at the chief’s use of an American yegg’s pet name for a strong-box. It showed Sir Richard’s versatility, and also showed the cracksman what manner of man he was dealing with.
“Gopher has gone out,� said Fay in correction. “Only the low-brows of the Middle Western States use it. You should say: ‘can or jug or keister.’�
“We’ll compromise on ‘crib,’ a good old word used in the time of Jack Cade and other mid-Victorian gentlemen!�
“All right, Chief! You want me to take it—without trace. In it I’m to find the key to the cipher—if there is a key. What can you say concerning the key? Is it a book, paper or design of some kind?â€�
“Now we’re getting close!� Sir Richard exclaimed. “It is a small packet in the back of the embassy’s crib. It was seen only last week by a trusted agent who could go no further. This agent informs me that the neutral nation, north and east of here, is in a quandary concerning it. Germany has requested that the packet be returned over her border.�
“Any marks of identification?�
“Yes! You will always know it by a name written in ink across one corner, under a blue string. The name is Otto Mononsonburg—the man who was stabbed in the back, near the Schwartz Canal.â€�
“Ah,� said Fay, “the matter seems easy. I get my freedom?�
“If you get the packet and turn it over to me.�