In Secret. Chambers Robert William

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СКАЧАТЬ the Plaza he peered fearfully out upon the deserted Circle, where the bronze lady of the fountain, who is supposed to represent Plenty, loomed high in the electric glow, with her magic basket piled high with icicles.

      "Yes, plenty of ice," sneered Vaux. "I wish she'd bring us a hod or two of coal."

      The wintry landscape of the Park discouraged him profoundly.

      "A man's an ass to linger anywhere north of the equator," he grumbled. "Dickybirds have more sense." And again he thought of the wood fire in the club and the partly empty but steaming glass, and the aroma it had wafted toward him; and the temperature it must have imparted to "Bill."

      He was immersed in arctic gloom when at length the car stopped. A butler admitted him to a brown-stone house, the steps of which had been thoughtfully strewn with furnace cinders.

      "Miss Erith?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Announce Mr. Vaux, partly frozen."

      "The library, if you please, sir," murmured the butler, taking hat and coat.

      So Vaux went up stairs with the liveliness of a crippled spider, and Miss Erith came from a glowing fireside to welcome him, giving him a firm and slender hand.

      "You ARE cold," she said. "I'm so sorry to have disturbed you this evening."

      He said:

      "Hum—hum—very kind—m'sure—hum—hum!"

      There were two deep armchairs before the blaze; Miss Erith took one, Vaux collapsed upon the other.

      She was disturbingly pretty in her evening gown. There were cigarettes on a little table at his elbow, and he lighted one at her suggestion and puffed feebly.

      "Which?" she inquired smilingly.

      He understood: "Irish, please."

      "Hot?"

      "Thank you, yes."

      When the butler had brought it, the young man began to regret the Racquet Club less violently.

      "It's horribly cold out," he said. "There's scarcely a soul on the streets."

      She nodded brightly:

      "It's a wonderful night for what we have to do. And I don't mind the cold very much."

      "Are you proposing to go OUT?" he asked, alarmed.

      "Why, yes. You don't mind, do you?"

      "Am I to go, too?"

      "Certainly. You gave me only twenty-four hours, and I can't do it alone in that time."

      He said nothing, but his thoughts concentrated upon a single unprintable word.

      "What have you done with the original Lauffer letter, Mr. Vaux?" she inquired rather nervously.

      "The usual. No invisible ink had been used; nothing microscopic. There was nothing on the letter or envelope, either, except what we saw."

      The girl nodded. On a large table behind her chair lay a portfolio. She turned, drew it toward her, and lifted it into her lap.

      "What have you discovered?" he inquired politely, basking in the grateful warmth of the fire.

      "Nothing. The cipher is, as I feared, purely arbitrary. It's exasperating, isn't it?"

      He nodded, toasting his shins.

      "You see," she continued, opening the portfolio, "here is my copy of this wretched cipher letter. I have transferred it to one sheet. It's nothing but a string of Arabic numbers interspersed with meaningless words. These numbers most probably represent, in the order in which they are written, first the number of the page of some book, then the line on which the word is to be found—say, the tenth line from the top, or maybe from the bottom—and then the position of the word—second from the left or perhaps from the right."

      "It's utterly impossible to solve that unless you have the book," he remarked; "therefore, why speculate, Miss Erith?"

      "I'm going to try to find the book."

      "How?"

      "By breaking into the shop of Herman Lauffer."

      "House-breaking? Robbery?"

      "Yes."

      Vaux smiled incredulously:

      "Granted that you get into Lauffer's shop without being arrested, what then?"

      "I shall have this cipher with me. There are not likely to be many books in the shop of a gilder and maker of picture frames. I shall, by referring to this letter, search what books I find there for a single coherent sentence. When I discover such a sentence I shall know that I have the right book."

      The young man smoked reflectively and gazed into the burning coals.

      "So you propose to break into his shop to-night and steal the book?"

      "There seems to be nothing else to do, Mr. Vaux."

      "Of course," he remarked sarcastically, "we could turn this matter over to the proper authorities—"

      "I WON'T! PLEASE don't!"

      "Why not?"

      "Because I have concluded that it IS part of our work. And I've begun already. I went to see Lauffer. I took a photograph to be framed."

      "What does he look like?"

      "A mink—an otter—one of those sharp-muzzled little animals!—Two tiny eyes, rather close together, a long nose that wrinkles when he talks, as though he were sniffing at you; a ragged, black moustache, like the furry muzzle-bristles of some wild thing—that is a sketch of Herman Lauffer."

      "A pretty man," commented Vaux, much amused.

      "He's little and fat of abdomen, but he looks powerful."

      "Prettier and prettier!"

      They both laughed. A pleasant steam arose from the tall glass at his elbow.

      "Well," she said, "I have to change my gown—"

      "Good Lord! Are we going now?" he remonstrated.

      "Yes. I don't believe there will be a soul on the streets."

      "But I don't wish to go at all," he explained. "I'm very happy here, discussing things."

      "I know it. But you wouldn't let me go all alone, would you, Mr. Vaux?"

      "I don't want you to go anywhere."

      "But I'm GOING!"

      "Here's where I perish," groaned Vaux, rising as the girl passed him with her pretty, humorous smile, moving lithely, swiftly as some graceful wild thing passing confidently through its own domain.

      Vaux gazed meditatively upon the coals, glass in one hand, cigarette in the other. Patriotism СКАЧАТЬ