“I've a notion that this is only Chapter I, Inspector. There's more to come, in all probability. If it's Mr. Justice, he's not the man to waste time. By the way, did you give the reporters the information you were talking about yesterday?”
“Yes, sir. It was printed in last night's Evening Herald, and I think both the Courier and the Gazette have got it this morning.”
Sir Clinton was still scrutinising the advertisement.
“I'm like you, Inspector—no great shakes on cyphers. But this affair looks to me more like the letters of a plain message arranged in ordinary alphabetical order. I think that most likely we shall get the key from the writer in some form or other before long. In the meantime, though, we might have a dash at interpreting the affair, if we can.”
Flamborough's face showed that he thought very poorly of the chances of success.
“Ever read Jules Verne or Poe?” Sir Clinton demanded. “No? Well, Poe has an essay on cryptography in its earlier stages—nothing like the stuff you'll find in Gross or Reiss, of course, and mere child's play compared with the special manuals on the subject. But he pointed out that in cypher-solving you have to pick the lock instead of using the normal key. And Jules Verne puts his finger on the signature of a cypher-communication as a weak point, if you've any idea who the sender is. That's assuming, of course, that there is a signature at all to the thing.”
The Inspector nodded his comprehension of this.
“You mean, sir, that ‘Justice’ would be the signature here, like in the wire we got?”
“We can but try,” Sir Clinton suggested. “Not that I'm over-hopeful. Still, it's worth a shot. Suppose we hook out the letters of ‘Justice’ and see what that leaves us. And we may as well disregard the groups of five for the moment and simply collect the remaining letters under A, B, C, etc.”
He tore a sheet of paper into small squares and inscribed one letter of the message on each square.