"Then he must have been in one of our rooms. Only to think that that dirty scoundrel was hanging around us with his knife while we were asleep! I'll go upstairs and see if anything is touched."
A moment later I heard my father shout, "It's gone!"
"What's gone?" asked Uncle Herbert.
"The box containing the cipher."
"It can't be far, at all events," said my uncle. "Let's search the brute."
I am afraid they were none too gentle with the man, but a thorough search revealed nothing.
"Try the place where we caught him," suggested the pater, and we all three went outdoors, carefully examining the well-defined trail. After a lengthy search we found, not only the box, but a bundle of papers cunningly hidden under the shrubbery in a tangled mass of twigs and leaves.
After glancing at the contents of the metal box, which was still intact, my father opened the packet of papers, and, to our surprise, they were the actual documents filched from my uncle's cabin on the ill-fated "Andrea Doria."
"You have only forestalled Fate by a few hours, Reggie," remarked the pater. "You see, here is the exact key to the cipher—the figures your uncle took to be merely business papers. However, run on down for the police."
As I passed through the hall to get my cap, I gave an involuntary exclamation of surprise, for there were no signs of the Brazilian.