“You can’t address it in cipher, and if you’re tailed you won’t get a chance to mail it, Wally. Better wait and try to see him without writing.”
For answer Pennold opened a drawer in the table, drew forth a grimy sheet of paper and an envelope, and bent laboriously to his task. It was long past dusk when he had finished, and tossed the paper across the table for his wife’s perusal. This is what she saw:
When she had gazed long at the characters, she shook her head at him, and a slow smile came over her face.
“You’ve forgotten a little yourself, Wally. You made a mistake in the k.”
He glanced half-incredulously at it, and then laid his huge, rough hand on her thin hair in the first caress he had given her in years.
“By God, old girl, you’re a smart one! You’re right. Now listen. You’ve got to do the rest for me, the hardest part. Mail it.”
“How? If we’re tailed––”