"'Reasons.'"
"We have the key!" she exclaimed. "Look at what I've written!—'An American who for reasons!' And here, in the cipher letter, it goes on—'of the most'—Do you see?"
"It certainly looks like the key," he said. "But we'd better try another word or two."
"Try page 717, first column, ninth word."
"The word is 'vital.'"
"Page 274, second column, second word."
"'Importance!'"
"It is the key! Here is what I have written: 'An American who for reasons, of the most vital importance!' Quick. We don't want a Secret Service man to find us here, Mr. Vaux! He'd object to our removing this book from Lauffer's apartment. Put it into your pocket and run!" And the pretty Miss Erith turned and took to her heels with Vaux after her.
Through the disordered apartment and down the stairs they sped, out into the icy darkness and around the corner, where her car stood, engine running, and a blanket over the hood.
As soon as the chauffeur espied them he whisked off the blanket;
Miss Erith said: "Home!" and jumped in, and Vaux followed.