Write soon.
Sincerely,
Marcia Atterbury."
The abrupt change of subject matter throughout, the short sentences and inconsistent style of the missive—now terse with telegraphic brevity, then verbose in unexpected and seemingly irrelevant detail—was utterly unlike her employer's usual concise mode of expression, and Betty's wonderment grew.
What had game laws to do with the market value of sheep, and who were "Professor Blythe," and "John" and the mysterious "Shirley" to whom the puzzling letter was addressed? The girl had not known that Mrs. Atterbury owned horses, or Mme. Cimmino a country residence; surely the latter had no conservatory in which to raise hothouse roses connected with her stuffy, overcrowded town apartment!
A minor point, too, stood out in challenging mendacity; Betty was too discriminating a judge of dogs to credit Demon with having taken a ribbon at any show. He might possess many traits which would render him invaluable as a watchdog, but his mixed breeding was too evident to admit of his qualifying on points.
As she further analyzed the letter two coincidences sprang to her mind, which brought back vividly the mysterious communication in code that she had opened on the first morning of her secretarial work. That, too, had contained a reference to sheep, but the number mentioned had been five thousand. The last sentence contained the word "comet," and Mrs. Atterbury had made use of it also in her present letter.
Another code! Betty stifled an exclamation as the truth burst upon her. It would be compatible with her employer's imperturbable daring to dictate a private and possibly incriminating letter to her unconscious amanuensis, secure in the belief that it would never occur to her to question its superficial meaning or seek to solve it without the key. Then, too, it might be that for certain cogent reasons, Mrs. Atterbury did not wish her own handwriting to appear in the communication, although she had said she would address the envelope herself. Betty had even signed the former's name, at her request.
If only she might hit upon the key! Concentration was impossible with the imminent fear of discovery before her, but she felt that she could not relinquish this rare opportunity to pierce the web of mystery without at least an effort.
Transcribing the letter hastily, she thrust the copy in her blouse, and when her employer returned she found the girl apparently deep in a book.
That afternoon, for the first time since her recent escapade, a suggestion was made that she go for a walk, and Betty eagerly availed herself of the permission.