"The burglar, whoever it was--and for the sake of argument we'll say that we don't know--took nothing with him, but he left something behind him, a piece of paper with writing on it. When the police came today----"
"Do you mean to say that the police have been here to-day?"
"Certainly--or, rather, a sample of them. And a lot of good he did, or is likely to do. I gave him the original piece of paper, but not before I had copied what was on it. Here is the copy. What do you make of it, Mr. Graham?"
Madge handed a sheet of paper to the gentleman addressed. As he looked at it Jack, too impatient to wait his turn, leaned over his elbow to look at it too.
"My stars! 'Tom Ossington's Ghost!' Large as life! Here's thrillers. What's that? 'Right--straight across--three four--up!' Here's mysteries! 'Right--cat--dog--cat--dog--cat--dog--dog--cat--dog--left eye,--push'--there seem to be several dogs after a good few cats. Perhaps it is my stupidity, but, while it's very interesting, I don't quite see what it means."
Madge paid no attention to Martyn. She kept her eyes fixed on his companion.
"What do you make of it, Mr. Graham?" she asked.
Bruce Graham continued silent for a moment longer, keeping his eyes fixed upon the paper. Then he looked up and met her glance.
"I think that we have here the key of the riddle, if we could only read it."
"If we could only read it!"