Arminger Griffin ate his dinner in impatience carefully avoiding the questions his pretty daughter put to him. Then he ascended to the study, having bidden her good-night. She had received no news of Frank, it seemed. For what reason had the young man so suddenly left for Copenhagen? The question caused him constant apprehension. Could he have discovered any clue to the existence of the context of the document?
More than once during the day he had been half tempted to go himself to Denmark, but the discovery of the aged stranger’s arithmetical calculations induced him to remain in London and watch.
Having switched on the light he crossed the room, and seating himself at the table felt in his pocket for the scribbled calculation. He failed to find it. He was horrified. It had gone!
He must have pulled it from his pocket at Westbourne Park while searching for his ticket. His loss was, indeed, a serious one. In frantic haste he searched all his other pockets, but in vain. The scraps of crumpled paper which contained the key to a portion of the cipher upon which the stranger was working was gone!
He sank into his armchair in despair.
Before his vision rose those mystical figures 255.19.7. written in fire. What was the hidden meaning therein contained?
One line of the sum he recollected: “7.3.4.1.0.9.” multiplied by 5. Mental calculation resulted in the answer of 3670646. There was a sum to add to it. But alas! he could not remember the figures of it.
Therefore the clue, so unexpectedly obtained, was lost.
So he sat alone, his head buried in his hands in deepest despair.
Gwen crept in in silence, but seeing her father’s attitude, crept out again without disturbing him, and read in the drawing-room alone, until it was time to return to her room.