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"Because it is obviously a secret message of some kind. Now, every educated Jew knows more or less Hebrew, and, although he is able to read and write only the modern square Hebrew character, it is so easy to transpose one alphabet into another that the mere language would afford no security. Therefore, I expect that, when the experts translate this doc.u.ment, the translation or transliteration will be a mere farrago of unintelligible nonsense. But we shall see, and meanwhile the facts that we have offer several interesting suggestions which are well worth consideration."
"As, for instance-?"
"Now, my dear Jervis," said Thornd.y.k.e, shaking an admonitory forefinger at me, "don't, I pray you, give way to mental indolence. You have these few facts that I have mentioned. Consider them separately and collectively, and in their relation to the circ.u.mstances. Don't attempt to suck my brain when you have an excellent brain of your own to suck."
On the following morning the papers fully justified my colleague's opinion of Mr. James. All the events which had occurred, as well as a number that had not, were given in the fullest and most vivid detail, a lengthy reference being made to the paper "found on the person of the dead anarchist," and "written in a private shorthand or cryptogram."
The report concluded with the gratifying-though untrue-statement that "in this intricate and important case, the police have wisely secured the a.s.sistance of Dr. John Thornd.y.k.e, to whose acute intellect and vast experience the portentous cryptogram will doubtless soon deliver up its secret."
"Very flattering," laughed Thornd.y.k.e, to whom I read the extract on his return from the hospital, "but a little awkward if it should induce our friends to deposit a few trifling mementoes in the form of nitro-compounds on our main staircase or in the cellars. By the way, I met Superintendent Miller on London Bridge. The 'cryptogram,' as Mr. James calls it, has set Scotland Yard in a mighty ferment."
"Naturally. What have they done in the matter?"
"They adopted my suggestion, after all, finding that they could make nothing of it themselves, and took it to the British Museum. The Museum people referred them to Professor Poppelbaum, the great palaeographer, to whom they accordingly submitted it."
"Did he express any opinion about it?"
"Yes, provisionally. After a brief examination, he found it to consist of a number of Hebrew words sandwiched between apparently meaningless groups of letters. He furnished the Superintendent off-hand with a translation of the words, and Miller forthwith struck off a number of hectograph copies of it, which he has distributed among the senior officials of his department; so that at present"-here Thornd.y.k.e gave vent to a soft chuckle-"Scotland Yard is engaged in a sort of missing word-or, rather, missing sense-compet.i.tion. Miller invited me to join in the sport, and to that end presented me with one of the hectograph copies on which to exercise my wits, together with a photograph of the doc.u.ment."
"And shall you?" I asked.
"Not I," he replied, laughing. "In the first place, I have not been formally consulted, and consequently am a pa.s.sive, though interested, spectator. In the second place, I have a theory of my own which I shall test if the occasion arises. But if you would like to take part in the compet.i.tion, I am authorized to show you the photograph and the translation. I will pa.s.s them on to you, and I wish you joy of them."
He handed me the photograph and a sheet of paper that he had just taken from his pocket-book, and watched me with grim amus.e.m.e.nt as I read out the first few lines.
THE CIPHER.
"Woe, city, lies, robbery, prey, noise, whip, rattling, wheel, horse, chariot, day, darkness, gloominess, clouds, darkness, morning, mountain, people, strong, fire, them, flame."
"It doesn't look very promising at first sight," I remarked. "What is the Professor's theory?"
"His theory-provisionally, of course-is that the words form the message, and the groups of letters represent mere filled-up s.p.a.ces between the words."
"But surely," I protested, "that would be a very transparent device."
Thornd.y.k.e laughed. "There is a childlike simplicity about it," said he, "that is highly attractive-but discouraging. It is much more probable that the words are dummies, and that the letters contain the message. Or, again, the solution may lie in an entirely different direction. But listen! Is that cab coming here?"
It was. It drew up opposite our chambers, and a few moments later a brisk step ascending the stairs heralded a smart rat-tat at our door. Flinging open the latter, I found myself confronted by a well-dressed stranger, who, after a quick glance at me, peered inquisitively over my shoulder into the room.
"I am relieved, Dr. Jervis," said he, "to find you and Dr. Thornd.y.k.e at home, as I have come on somewhat urgent professional business. My name," he continued, entering in response to my invitation, "is Barton, but you don't know me, though I know you both by sight. I have come to ask you if one of you-or, better still, both-could come to-night and see my brother."
"That," said Thornd.y.k.e, "depends on the circ.u.mstances and on the whereabouts of your brother."
"The circ.u.mstances," said Mr. Barton, "are, in my opinion, highly suspicious, and I will place them before you-of course, in strict confidence."
Thornd.y.k.e nodded and indicated a chair.
"My brother," continued Mr. Barton, taking the profferred seat, "has recently married for the second time. His age is fifty-five, and that of his wife twenty-six, and I may say that the marriage has been-well, by no means a success. Now, within the last fortnight, my brother has been attacked by a mysterious and extremely painful affection of the stomach, to which his doctor seems unable to give a name. It has resisted all treatment hitherto. Day by day the pain and distress increase, and I feel that, unless something decisive is done, the end cannot be far off."
"Is the pain worse after taking food?" inquired Thornd.y.k.e.
"That's just it!" exclaimed our visitor. "I see what is in your mind, and it has been in mine, too; so much so that I have tried repeatedly to obtain samples of the food that he is taking. And this morning I succeeded." Here he took from his pocket a wide-mouthed bottle, which, disengaging from its paper wrappings, he laid on the table. "When I called, he was taking his breakfast of arrowroot, which he complained had a gritty taste, supposed by his wife to be due to the sugar. Now I had provided myself with this bottle, and, during the absence of his wife, I managed un.o.bserved to convey a portion of the arrowroot that he had left into it, and I should be greatly obliged if you would examine it and tell me if this arrowroot contains anything that it should not."
He pushed the bottle across to Thornd.y.k.e, who carried it to the window, and, extracting a small quant.i.ty of the contents with a gla.s.s rod, examined the pasty ma.s.s with the aid of a lens; then, lifting the bell-gla.s.s cover from the microscope, which stood on its table by the window, he smeared a small quant.i.ty of the suspected matter on to a gla.s.s slip, and placed it on the stage of the instrument.
"I observe a number of crystalline particles in this," he said, after a brief inspection, "which have the appearance of a.r.s.enious acid."
"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Barton, "just what I feared. But are you certain?"
"No," replied Thornd.y.k.e; "but the matter is easily tested."
He pressed the b.u.t.ton of the bell that communicated with the laboratory, a summons that brought the laboratory a.s.sistant from his lair with characteristic prompt.i.tude.
"Will you please prepare a Marsh's apparatus, Polton," said Thornd.y.k.e.
"I have a couple ready, sir," replied Polton.
"Then pour the acid into one and bring it to me, with a tile."
As his familiar vanished silently, Thornd.y.k.e turned to Mr. Barton.
"Supposing we find a.r.s.enic in this arrowroot, as we probably shall, what do you want us to do?"
"I want you to come and see my brother," replied our client.
"Why not take a note from me to his doctor?"
"No, no; I want you to come-I should like you both to come-and put a stop at once to this dreadful business. Consider! It's a matter of life and death. You won't refuse! I beg you not to refuse me your help in these terrible circ.u.mstances."
"Well," said Thornd.y.k.e, as his a.s.sistant reappeared, "let us first see what the test has to tell us."
Polton advanced to the table, on which he deposited a small flask, the contents of which were in a state of brisk effervescence, a bottle labelled "calcium hypochlorite," and a white porcelain tile. The flask was fitted with a safety-funnel and a gla.s.s tube drawn out to a fine jet, to which Polton cautiously applied a lighted match. Instantly there sprang from the jet a tiny, pale violet flame. Thornd.y.k.e now took the tile, and held it in the flame for a few seconds, when the appearance of the surface remained unchanged save for a small circle of condensed moisture. His next proceeding was to thin the arrowroot with distilled water until it was quite fluid, and then pour a small quant.i.ty into the funnel. It ran slowly down the tube into the flask, with the bubbling contents of which it became speedily mixed. Almost immediately a change began to appear in the character of the flame, which from a pale violet turned gradually to a sickly blue, while above it hung a faint cloud of white smoke. Once more Thornd.y.k.e held the tile above the jet, but this time, no sooner had the pallid flame touched the cold surface of the porcelain, than there appeared on the latter a glistening black stain.
"That is pretty conclusive," observed Thornd.y.k.e, lifting the stopper out of the reagent bottle, "but we will apply the final test." He dropped a few drops of the hypochlorite solution on to the tile, and immediately the black stain faded away and vanished. "We can now answer your question, Mr. Barton," said he, replacing the stopper as he turned to our client. "The specimen that you brought us certainly contains a.r.s.enic, and in very considerable quant.i.ties."
"Then," exclaimed Mr. Barton, starting from his chair, "you will come and help me to rescue my brother from this dreadful peril. Don't refuse me, Dr. Thornd.y.k.e, for mercy's sake, don't refuse."
Thornd.y.k.e reflected for a moment.
"Before we decide," said he, "we must see what engagements we have."
With a quick, significant glance at me, he walked into the office, whither I followed in some bewilderment, for I knew that we had no engagements for the evening.
"Now, Jervis," said Thornd.y.k.e, as he closed the office door, "what are we to do?"
"We must go, I suppose," I replied. "It seems a pretty urgent case."
"It does," he agreed. "Of course, the man may be telling the truth, after all."