II—The Voice On The Wire
“Good morning, madame!” said Harleston, bowing to the photograph. “This is quite a surprise. You’re taken very recently, and you’re worth looking at for divers aesthetic reasons—none of which, however, is the reason for your being in the envelope.”
He drew out the sheet of paper and opened it. On it were typewritten, without address nor signature, these letters:
DPNFNZQFEFBPOYVOAEELEHHEJYD
BIWFTCCFVDXNQYCECLUGSUGDZYJ
ENRYUIGYBSNRTDUHJWHGYZIPEPA
WPPOIMCHEIPRFBJXFVWWFTZNJPY
UFJDILDCEMBRVZDAYVAWALUMOFN
FCVDPGLPWFUUWVIEPTKVIPUMSFZ
NPSJJRFYASGZSDACSIGYUOFCEXA