At the top of the page she pecked out: “Bulletin.” After the dateline, she began in her best journalistic style, using upper case letters:
“PENNY PARKER, ATTRACTIVE AND TALENTED DAUGHTER OF ANTHONY PARKER, WHILE RIDING THE TAIL OF A RACING BOB-SLED WAS THROWN FOR A TEN YARD LOSS, SUSTAINING NUMEROUS BRUISES. THE PATIENT IS BEARING HER SUFFERING WITH FORTITUDE AND ANTICIPATES BEING IN CIRCULATION BY GLMLFFLS”
Penny stared at the last word she had written. Inadvertently, her fingers had struck the wrong letters. She had intended to write “tomorrow.” With an exclamation of impatience she jerked the paper from the machine.
And then she studied the sentence she had typed with new interest. There was something strangely familiar about the jumbled word, GLMLFFLS.
“It looks a little like that coded message I found!” she thought excitedly.
Forgetting her bruises, Penny rolled out of bed. She struck the floor with a moan of anguish. Hobbling over to the dresser, she found the scrap of paper which she had saved, and brought it back to the bed.
The third word in the message was similar, although not the same as the one she had written by accident. Penny typed them one above the other.
GLMLFFLS
GLULFFLS
“They’re identical except for the third letter,” she mused. “Why, I believe I have it! You simply strike the letter directly below the true one—that is, the one in the next row of keys. And when your true letter is in the bottom row, you strike the corresponding key on the top row. That’s why I wrote an M for a U!”