“Then I'll leave Mr. Whalley to your care, Inspector. He sounds interesting, if you can induce him to squeak.”
Chapter XI.
The Code Advertisement
On the following morning, Inspector Flamborough was summoned to the Chief Constable's room and, on his arrival, was somewhat surprised to find his superior poring over a copy of the Westerhaven Courier. It was not Sir Clinton's habit to read newspapers during office hours; and the Inspector's eyebrows lifted slightly at the unwonted spectacle.
“Here's a little puzzle for you, Inspector,” Sir Clinton greeted him as he came in. “Just have a look at it.”
He folded the newspaper to a convenient size and handed it over, pointing as he did so to an advertisement to which attention had been drawn by a couple of crosses in pen and ink. Flamborough took the paper and scanned the advertisement:
DRIFFIELD. AAACC. CCCDE. EEEEF.
HHHHH. IIIIJ. NNNNO. OOOOO.
RRSSS. SSTTT. TTTTT. TTUUW. Y.
“It doesn't seem exactly lucid, sir,” he confessed, as he read it a second time. “A lot of letters in alphabetical order and divided into groups of five—bar the single letter at the end. I suppose it was your name at the front that attracted your eye?”
“No,” Sir Clinton answered. “This copy of the paper came to me through the post, marked as you see it. It came in by the second delivery. Here's the wrapper. It'll probably suggest something to you.”
Flamborough looked at it carefully.
“Ordinary official stamped wrapper. There's no clue there, since you can buy 'em by the hundred anywhere.”