THE CIPHER
We sat rigid and breathless, with our eyes glued to the slowly
revolving door-knob. At last a faint click announced that the latch
was released. Then the door opened a few inches, to reveal the slender
figure of Alexander Burke.
[Illustration: The door opened a few inches, to reveal the figure of
Alexander Burke]
Manifestly he was ignorant of our presence. Neither I nor Miss Cooper
stirred, and Burke was for the time being blinded by having come so
abruptly from the snow glare into the comparative dimness of the hall.
I regretted that we were not in a position to follow his movements
unobserved, for of course he must be attracted to us the instant either
of us stirred. I was exceedingly curious to learn what had brought him
back to his employer's house.
And now he did a singular thing. His hand was still on the knob, and
only his head and the upper part of his body projected through the
doorway. His attitude was that of a strained listener; and had I not
been there to testify to the contrary, one might have sworn that he
received a warning not to enter. The silence, however, remained
absolutely unbroken.
All at once a shudder convulsed his frame. He slowly withdrew his
head, as if fearful of disturbing the house's lifeless occupant. Next
he deliberately closed the door, without entering at all.
Miss Cooper turned to me in blank amazement, and for a moment I confess
that I was nonplussed myself by such singular conduct. But in a second
I comprehended: the fellow was afraid.
I laughed quietly, and explained to my companion:
"He expected to find the house thronged with people, and the
undisturbed stillness dismayed him. . . . Careful! He's still on the
porch, hesitating between desire to enter and fear to make the attempt.
Slip quietly into the library; I mean to find out what he 's after, if
I can. He does n't need to know of your being here."
She colored, and nodded in comprehension, and at once tripped across
the hall, carrying with her the card and jewel-box.
"Mind, I shall be close at hand," I whispered after her; which she
acknowledged, before the door hid her from me, with one of her bright,
friendly smiles.
I then went and threw the front door wide open. Burke jumped as if I
had unexpectedly fired a shot at him.
"Come in," said I, dryly.
He stared unblinkingly at me for a moment, but during that moment he
recovered his equanimity, and became again his customary inscrutable
self. It would perhaps be too much to say that the color returned to
his face, for it was colorless at all times. However, I knew that for
once I had caught the man off his guard.
I surveyed him with derisive contempt.
"I didn't expect to find you here," he said at length.
"And all whom you did expect to find have gone," returned I. "But
that's no reason why we should stand holding the door open and filling
the house with cold. Come in."
"I don't understand you," said he, hesitating a second longer; "I was
looking for no one."
I glanced out for some sign of Stodger, but saw nothing of him. Then I
closed the door and placed my back against it.
"Perhaps no one in particular," I observed. "Neither did you
anticipate encountering such a forbiddingly empty house. Look here,
Burke, what _did_ you come back for?"
His eyes might have been actually sightless, his pallid features a
lifeless mask, for all the expression they conveyed; there was
absolutely no facial sign by which I could even determine whether I
commanded his attention; but his hands were never quiet, the slender,
nervous fingers twitched unceasingly.
Was his mind occupied by the crack in the library door? For an instant
I imagined that he detected Miss Cooper's presence, and my look
hardened with a sudden gust of anger; but he immediately answered my
question.
"I came for the papers I brought here last evening; they should be
returned to the file-case."
"Is Mr. Page wanting them?" I inquired ironically.
"It's not a joking matter, Mr. Swift; it would be decidedly awkward for
me to have them misplaced."
"Then I can set your mind at ease: I gave them to Mr. Ulysses
White"--naming Mr. Page's lawyer.
Burke elevated the blank expanse where his eyebrows should have been.
"Don't you think," said he, in a tone of hurt surprise, "that you might
properly have consulted me before making any disposition of them? I
feel, in a way, responsible for all the business affairs which Mr. Page
ordinarily entrusted to me."
"I daresay I might have done so," returned I, indifferently, "if you
had been present when I handed them to Mr. White. Don't you regard
them as being safe with him?"
"To be sure--they could n't be in safer hands. But it is the
implication that I no longer command or deserve the confidence--"
"Pooh!" I unceremoniously cut in. "Burke, if I were you, I 'd be a
little careful how I emphasized an attitude of innocence toward this
affair. There 's no implication or innuendo about; I 'm only too
willing to tell you frankly that I am something more than suspicious of
you. I _know_ that you have n't told everything you might about this
murder. You 're lucky that I have n't run you in before this. Is that
plain enough?"
He recoiled a step, with a queer, hissing intake of breath.
"Swift," he muttered, "I have half a mind to make you prove your words."
"Do," said I, grimly. "I would like nothing better."
He stared at me so long that it gave me an uncanny feeling. I broke
the silence with a blunt demand.
"Burke, where 's that ruby?"
"Don't try to browbeat me," he said through his teeth. "Please
understand that you are not dealing with a criminal, and I don't
propose to be bulldozed by any fat-witted sleuths."
I laughed in his face.
"Maybe it will interest you to know that I have wit enough to contrast
your secretive manner with Maillot's willingness to talk, and to draw
the one consistent inference therefrom."
There is a nervous affliction of the eyes, called by pathologists
nystagmus, which is characterized by a perpetual weaving to and fro of
the eyeballs; it is impossible for the unfortunate victim to fix his
look upon a given point without the greatest effort. When the
attention of such a one is not centred the swaying of his eyes goes on
incessantly.
So it was now with Burke's pale orbs and his lean death's head. He
seemed to be searching, forever feverishly searching, for something
that he could not find. There was something positively repulsive about
the man in this new guise, although the change was so subtle that I was
unable to define it. At last he spoke.
"Swift," he said, scarcely above a whisper, "I 'm a peaceable man;
nevertheless I resent your aspersions. I can't do it openly in the
circumstances; this murder ties my hands; but--damn you!" he suddenly
spat at me, "if my silence would hang Royal Maillot, I 'd bite my
tongue out before I 'd ever utter another word. There you have it."
I stared at him in astonishment. Was it possible that this
cold-blooded creature could harbor an emotion as fiery as hatred?
"What have you against Maillot?" I sternly asked, after a pause.
His bloodless upper lip, thin and flexible, curled in a smile; there
was a momentary flash of his teeth.
"You 're a detective," he said; "find out."
I pondered, still regarding him.
"So," said I at last, "it's to be warfare between you and me, is it?
Very well. Take care, Burke, for I do mean to find out. And I promise
you that when I do you 'll get all you have coming to you."
He knew that I was more or less at sea; he had divined that in my own
mind I had already cleared him of the actual murder.
"Thank you," he now had the impudence to say suavely. "Forewarned is
forearmed, you know."
"You get out of here, Burke," I said, without heat, eying him steadily.
"Do you mean," he asked quickly, "that I 'm not to have an opportunity
to ascertain whether I left any of my possessions here?" I fancied
that he was disconcerted.
"I mean that I have n't any time to waste on you," I replied, evenly.
"I 'm busy now; but I 'll take care of you when the time comes. If you
want to go to any other part of the house, be quick about it."
Again his voice dropped.
"You intend to go with me--I see. I 'm not to be trusted. I 'll
submit to no such indignity."
"Just as you choose."
He moved over to the door. There was no use questioning him further,
because all his defences were up. But I watched him steadily--as I
would have watched any other dangerous animal that I was not at liberty
to crush.
At the door he paused and looked back; for the briefest instant his
restless glance lingered upon an indefinable point up the stair-well.
So thereabouts lay the centre of interest, did it?
The door was open; he turned again to me.
"I'll go," he said, "and--"
"And you need not come back," I broke in curtly. "This house will not
be unguarded for one second until the ruby is found."
I felt, rather than saw, that the blank eyes flashed venomously.
"You devil!" he hissed, slipping hastily through the narrow
aperture--"you devil!"
Next instant he was gone. And I drew a great breath of relief.
When I turned round Miss Cooper was advancing from the library, her
eyes bright with suppressed excitement.
"What a horrid creature!" exclaimed she. "I heard all, Mr. Swift; no
wonder Uncle Alfred despises the man."
I looked sharply at her: what earthly reason should Alfred Fluette have
for despising Felix Page's private secretary? But of this later. If I
was not much mistaken, Miss Cooper held in her hand the cause of her
present pleased agitation.
"What have you discovered?"
"This." She handed me a small slip of paper. "I found it inside the
lining of the little leather box."
"A cipher!" I cried, sharing some of her excitement.
The bit of paper, perhaps three inches long by an inch wide, was of
almost parchment-like fineness and bore a number of peculiar characters
written in black ink. At the first glance it suggested a safe
combination; but after a minute's intent examination, during which the
girl could scarcely restrain her eager impatience, I was obliged to
forego that idea.
"Good for you!" was my admiring tribute. The color heightened in her
cheeks. "I wonder, now, since you were keen enough to find it, whether
you can make anything of it? Honestly--do you know--when I examined
that box I never thought to look under the lining."
With her head on one side, she stared regretfully at the bit of paper.
"It's Greek to me," she said.
"To me, too. I 'd give a good deal to know what those hieroglyphs
mean."
She clapped her hands with sudden delight.
"My!" she exclaimed, "it's just like a story! Isn't this what you call
a cryptograph? It tells where a hidden treasure is, does it not?"
Glancing at her beautiful, animated countenance, I answered truthfully,
"Yes"; but added, "It at least points me to a treasure that is
unattainable."
For an instant she was puzzled, then she bent suddenly over the cipher
and asked no more questions.
We had gone in to the big library table, where, with heads pleasantly
close together, we studied in silence the seemingly meaningless
characters. But after some minutes devoted to this exercise, we were
constrained to give it up as hopeless. This is what the paper bore:
[Illustration: Cipher]
"I 'm afraid I shall prove to be a very indifferent assistant," she
lamented, with a rueful little laugh. "I did n't deserve your
commendation even for finding the cipher, because, while I was
examining the box I was too intent on listening to you and that
dreadful Burke creature to heed what I was doing. I felt the paper
crackle, and then saw a corner of it through one of the rents in the
faded blue satin."
"Never mind now. Maybe we shall understand it later. Some ciphers,
you know, are to be read only in connection with something else; I
think this is such a one. Let's put it away and take up something that
I know you can help me with.
"That faded card"--I pointed to it lying upon the table, and noted that
her face instantly grew grave--"why did you start so when you first
looked at it--just as we heard Burke on the porch?"
She regarded me steadily.
"Mr. Swift, that is my aunt's handwriting--her name."
"Do you mean Mrs. Fluette?" I was in truth unprepared for this blunt
announcement.
"Yes," she replied simply.
I believe the first effect of this disclosure was no more than an
uneasy, apprehensive feeling; but in a flash the possibilities entailed
began to occur to me, and I was left groping for words.
During the silence that followed I vainly tried to arrange my thoughts;
the color slowly faded from Miss Cooper's face, and by and by she
averted it from mine. I knew that our minds were working in parallel
currents; I knew without looking at her that she was anxious and
trembling.
At last I secured a grip upon myself, and I addressed her with decision.
"You believe I will do what is right, do you not?"
"Yes," she murmured, without looking up.
"Then I fear that our pact is to be short-lived, after all. This
cursed tragedy is twining its tentacles nearer home than either of us
dreamt of."
What, in the bitterness of my own reflections, was I allowing myself to
say! I silently cursed myself for a blundering fool. The girl's gray
face, the pinched look of it, frightened me. I started from my chair.
"Miss Cooper!"
For her head had dropped forward upon one curved arm, and she was
shaken by a storm of tears.