Chapter VII. Pin-Pricks - Page 2

scattered. Most, though not all of them, transfixed certain letters. Accepting this as indicative, Bertram had copied out all the letters thus distinguished, with the following cryptic result:

b-n-o-k-n-o-a-h-i (doubtful) i (doubtful) d-o-o-u-t-s-e-h-w h-e-w-a-l-e-w-f-i-h-i-e-l-y-a-n-u-t-t-m-a-m (doubtful) g-e-x-c-s (doubtful) s-e M-e-p-c (two punctures) t-y-w-u-s-o-m-e-r-s h-a-s 1 S-k-t-s-a-s-e-l-e-v-a-h (twice) W-y-o-u (doubtful) h-c-s-e-v-t-l-t-f-r (perforated twice) c-a-o-u-c-e-o-c (doubtful) m-t (perforated twice) n-o-h-a-e-f-o-u-w-o-r-i-t-h-i-r-e-d- w-l-l-b (Perforated three times) f-u-h-g-e-p-d-h-o-d- (doubtful) e-f-h-g-b-t-n-t.

"Yes, the copy's all right," growled Bertram. "Tell me again how you came by it."

"Robinson came here twice and missed me. Yesterday I got the note from him which you've seen, with the enclosure which has so threatened your reason. You know the rest. Perhaps you'd have done well to study the note for clues to the other document."

Something in his friend's tone made Bertram glance up suspiciously. "Let me see the note," he demanded.

Average Jones handed it to him. There was no stamp on it; it had been left by the writer. It was addressed, in rather scrawly chirography, to "A. Jones, Ad-Visor," and read: > THE CARONIA, Nov. 18.

MR. A. JONES, Astor Court Temple:
I have tried unsuccessfully to see you twice. Enclosed you will find the reason. Please read through it carefully. Then I am sure you will see and help me. Money is no object. I will call to-morrow at noon.

Respectfully,

WILLIAM H. ROBINSON.

"Well, I see nothing out of the ordinary in that," observed Bertram.

"Nothing?" inquired Average Jones.

Bertram read the message again. "Of course the man is rattled. That's obvious in his handwriting. Also, he has inverted one sentence in his haste and said 'read through it,' instead, of 'read it through.' Otherwise, it's ordinary enough."

"It must be vanity that keeps you from eyeglasses, Bert," Average Jones observed with a sigh. "Well, I'm afraid I set you on the wrong track, myself!"

Bertram lifted an eyebrow with an effort. "Meaning, I suppose, that you're on the tight and have solved the cipher."

"Cipher be jiggered. You were right in your opening remark. There isn't any cipher. If you read Mr. Robinson's note correctly, and if you'd had the advantage of working on the original of the advertisement as I have, you'd undoubtedly have noticed at once--"

"Thank you," murmured Bertram.

"--that fully one-third of the pin-pricks don't touch any letters at all."

"Then we should have taken the letters which lie between the holes?"

"No. The letters don't count. It's the