"They are associates of your uncle, are they not—in fact, members of the gang?"
"Yes. But how did you discover their true names?"
Then I explained how, after poor Craig's death, I had found the paper with the elaborate calculations, and the list of names with corresponding numbers.
"They are code-numbers, so that mention of them can be made in telegrams or letters, and their identity still concealed."
"And what were the columns of figures?" I asked, describing them.
"Probably either the calculations of weights and values of precious stones, or calculations of wave-lengths of wireless telegraphy in which Gregory experiments," she replied. "After a coup Gregory always valued the stolen gems very carefully before they were sent to Antwerp or Amsterdam to be re-cut and altered out of recognition. At one coup, a year ago, when at Klein's, the principal jeweller in Vienna, the night-watchman was killed and the safe opened with the acetylene jet. We got clear away with jewels valued at three-quarters of a million francs. Afterwards, I motored from Vienna to Antwerp, carrying most of the unset stones and pearls in the radiator of my car. The prying douaniers at the frontiers never suspect anything there, nor in the inner tube of a spare wheel. Besides, I was the daughter of the Baronne de Lericourt, travelling with her maid, therefore nobody suspected, and Kunzle, a young Dane, acted as my chauffeur."
"In which direction did your uncle travel?"
"To Algiers, by way of Trieste, and home to his hobby, wireless telegraphy. He has high aerial wires across the grounds of his villa, and can receive on his delicate apparatus messages from Clifden in Ireland, Trieste, Paris, Madrid, London, Port Said, and stations all over Europe."
"Can he transmit messages?" I asked.
She sighed slightly, her wound was giving her pain.