20
As soon as I had read the two foregoing reports which reached me in the
first mail, I called up Sadie for the purpose of telling her to have
the operative A. N. transferred to some other duty, as he had obviously
outlived his usefulness where Milbourne was concerned. This was the
day following my encounter with Jumbo in his flat.
Keenan answered the phone. He said Sadie had just gone out after
reading her mail. She had told him she didn't know how long she would
be. We did not take Keenan very far into our confidence. He knew he
was not clever, poor fellow, and did not mind his exclusion.
His word made me vaguely uneasy, for I knew of nothing to take Sadie
out that morning, and she was very scrupulous about letting me know
before embarking on anything new. However, there was nothing to do
until I heard from her.
I plunged into the work awaiting me. That was considerable. I am only
giving you an occasional report or part of a report which helps on the
story a little. There were dozens of other lines we were obliged to
follow that never returned us anything for our work. The office end of
my business is the part I like least.
At noon I called the other office again. Sadie had not come in, said
Keenan, nor had she sent any word. I was downright anxious by this
time. Sadie must know that I would call her up, I told myself. Surely
she would never stay away so long without sending in word, unless she
were prevented. I called up her sister with whom she lived. They had
not heard from her there since she had left as usual that morning.
I spent a horrible afternoon, condemned to inaction, while my brain
busied itself suggesting all the dreadful things that might have
happened. Curiously enough I thought only of the ordinary accidents of
the streets. The truth never occurred to me.
The blow descended about half-past four. Terrible as it was it was
like relief to hear anything. It came in the form of a special
delivery letter, mailed as in irony from Station W. Within were two
lines more of that damned cryptogram, thus:
SP JAH FUXLJG QCXQ WYE DFB&U OWK-
MZM&YW SY EUS UYHJL FVDH QMWZCDBK
QBC OYFG YB UOWX.
Meaning:
"If you return what you stole yesterday in the first mail to-morrow all
will be well."
On the back of the paper was written another message:
"They have got me, Ben. Save me!"
This went to my breast like a knife. It was unquestionably Sadie's
handwriting. The wild words were so unlike my clever self-contained
girl it broke me all up. For a while I could not think, could not
plan. I could only reproach myself for having put one so dear to me in
danger.
Fortunately for humans, old habits of work reassert themselves
automatically. My brain screwed itself down upon the hardest problem
of my career. There was not the slightest use in flying up to the flat
on One Hundredth street. There would be no one there. Neither could I
call on the police for aid without precipitating the catastrophe. If
Sadie was to be saved it must be by unaided wits.
I thought of Mr. Dunsany with hope and gratitude. In him I had a line
on the gang they did not as yet suspect. I immediately called up
Dunsany's and asked if I might speak to Mattingly in the jewel-setting
department. It was a risky thing to do, but I had no choice. Knowing
how the gang watched Dunsany's it would have been suicidal for me to
have gone there to meet him.
I finally heard his voice at the other end of the wire. "This is
Enderby," I said. "Do you get me?"
"Yes," he said, "what is it?"
I had to bear in mind the possibility of a curious switchboard operator
in Dunsany's listening on the wire. "Are you going to meet your
friends to-night?" I asked in ordinary tones.
"Yes," he said, "same as usual."
"Those fellows have played a trick on me," I said. "They have copped
my girl."
"Not Sadie!" he said aghast.
"Yes," I said. "It's a deuce of a note, isn't it?"