CHAPTER X
"Come!" said the Tracer suddenly; "this won't do. There are too fewsymbols to give us a key; too few repetitions to furnish us with any keybasis. Come, Captain, let us use our intellects; let us talk it overwith that paper lying there between us. It's a simple cipher--achildishly simple one if we use our wits. Now, sir, what I see repeatedbefore us on this sheet of paper is merely one of the forms of a symbolknown as Solomon's Seal. The symbol is, as we see, repeated a great manytimes. Every seal has been dotted or crossed on some one of the linescomposing it; some seals are coupled with brackets and armatures."
Cryptographic symbol]
"What of it?" inquired Harren vacantly.
"Well, sir, in the first place, that symbol is supposed to represent thespiritual and material, as you know. What else do you know about it?"
Cryptographic symbol]
"Nothing. I bought a book about it, but made nothing of it."
"Isn't it supposed," asked Mr. Keen, "to contain within itself the ninenumerals, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and even the zero symbol?"
"I believe so."
"_Ex_actly. Here's the seal
Cryptographic symbol]
Now I'll mark the one, two, and three by crossing the lines, like this:
one,
Cryptographic symbol]
two,
Cryptographic symbol]
three,
Cryptographic symbol]
Now, eliminating all lines not crossed there remains
the one,
Cryptographic symbol]
the two,
Cryptographic symbol]
the three,
Cryptographic symbol]
And here is the entire series:
Cryptographic symbols]
and the zero--"
Cryptographic symbol]
A sudden excitement stirred Harren; he leaned over the paper, gazingearnestly at the cipher; the Tracer rose and glanced around the room asthough in search of something.
"Is there a telephone here?" he asked.
"For Heaven's sake, don't give this up just yet," exclaimed Harren."These things mean numbers; don't you see? Look at that!" pointing to alinked pair of seals,
Cryptographic symbol]
"That means the number nineteen! You can form it by using only thecrossed lines of the seal.
Cryptographic symbol]
Don't you see, Mr. Keen?"
"Yes, Captain Harren, the cipher is, as you say, very plain; quite aseasy to read as so much handwriting. That is why I wish to use yourtelephone--at once, if you please."
"It's in my bedroom; you don't mind if I go on working out this cipherwhile you're telephoning?"
"Not in the least," said the Tracer blandly. He walked into theCaptain's bedroom, closing the door behind him; then he stepped over tothe telephone, unhooked the receiver, and called up his ownheadquarters.
"Hello. This is Mr. Keen. I want to speak to Miss Borrow."
In a few moments Miss Borrow answered: "I am here, Mr. Keen."
"Good. Look up the name Inwood. Try New York first--Edith Inwood is thename. Look sharp, please; I am holding the wire."
He held it for ten full minutes; then Miss Borrow's low voice called himover the wire.
"Go ahead," said the Tracer quietly.
"There is only one Edith Inwood in New York, Mr. Keen--Miss EdithInwood, graduate of Barnard, 1902--left an orphan 1903 and obliged tosupport herself--became an assistant to Professor Boggs of the Museum ofInscriptions. Is considered an authority upon Arabian cryptograms. Haswritten a monograph on the Herati symbol--a short treatise on theSwastika. She is twenty-four years of age. Do you require furtherdetails?"
"No," said the Tracer; "please ring off."
Then he called up General Information. "I want the Museum ofInscriptions. Get me their number, please." After a moment: "Is this theMuseum of Inscriptions?"
* * * * *
"Is Professor Boggs there?"
* * * * *
"Is this Professor Boggs?"
* * * * *
"Could you find time to decipher an inscription for me at once?"
* * * * *
"Of course I know you are extremely busy, but have you no assistant whocould do it?"
* * * * *
"What did you say her name is? Miss Inwood?"
* * * * *
"Oh! And will the young lady translate the inscription at once if I senda copy of it to her by messenger?"
* * * * *
"Thank you very much, Professor. I will send a messenger to Miss Inwoodwith a copy of the inscription. Good-by."
He hung up the receiver, turned thoughtfully, opened the door again, andwalked into the sunlit living room.
"Look here!" cried the Captain in a high state of excitement. "I've gota lot of numbers out of it already."
"Wonderful!" murmured the Tracer, looking over the young man's broadshoulders at a sheet of paper bearing these numbers:
9--14--5--22--5--18--19--1--23--25--15--21--2--21--20--15--14--3--5--9--12--15--22--5--25--15--21--5--4--9--20--8--9--14--23--15--15--4.
"Marvelous!" repeated the Tracer, smiling. "Now what _do_ you supposethose numbers can stand for?"
"Letters!" announced the Captain triumphantly. "Take the number nine,for example. The ninth letter in the alphabet is I! Mr. Keen, suppose wetry writing down the letters according to that system!"
"Suppose we do," agreed the Tracer gravely.
So, counting under his breath, the young man set down the letters in thefollowing order, not attempting to group them into words:
INEVERSAWYOUBUTONCEILOVEYOUEDITHINWOOD.
Then he leaned back, excited, triumphant.
"There you are!" he said; "only, of course, it makes no sense." Heexamined it in silence, and gradually a hopeless expression effaced theanimation. "How the deuce am I going to separate that mass of lettersinto words?" he muttered.
"This way," said the Tracer, smilingly taking the pencil from hisfingers, and he wrote: I--NEVER--SAW--YOU--BUT--ONCE. I--LOVE--YOU.EDITH INWOOD.
Then he laid the pencil on the table and walked to the window.
Once or twice he fancied that he heard incoherent sounds behind him.And after a while he turned, retracing his steps leisurely. CaptainHarren, extremely pink, stood tugging at his short mustache and studyingthe papers on the desk.
"Well?" inquired the Tracer, amused.
The young man pointed to the translation with unsteady finger. "W-whaton earth does that mean?" he demanded shakily. "Who is Edith Inwood?W-what on earth does that cryptogram mean on the window pane in thephotograph? How did it come there? It isn't on my window pane, you see!"
The Tracer said quietly: "That is not a photograph of your window."
"What!"
"No, Captain. Here! Look at it closely through this glass. There aresixteen small panes in that sash; now count the panes in yourwindow--eight! Besides, look at that curtain. It is made of some figuredstuff like chintz. Now, look at your own curtain yonder! It is of plainvelour."
"But--but I took that photograph! She stood there--there by that verywindow!"
The Tracer leaned over the photograph, examining it through the glass.And, studying it, he said: "Do you still see _her_ in this photograph,Captain Harren?"
"Certainly. Can you not see her?"
"No," murmured the Tracer, "but I see the window which she really stoodby when her phantom came here seeking you. And that is sufficient. Come,Captain Harren, we are going out together."
The Captain looked at him earnestly; something in Mr. Keen's eyes seemedto fascinate him.
"You think that--that it's likely we are g-going to see--_her_!" hefaltered.
"If I were you," mused the Tracer of Lost Persons, joining the tips ofhis lean fi
ngers meditatively--"If I were you I should wear a silk hatand a frock coat. It's--it's afternoon, anyhow," he added deprecatingly,"and we are liable to make a call."
Captain Harren turned like a man in a dream and entered his bedroom. Andwhen he emerged he was dressed and groomed with pathetic precision.
"Mr. Keen," he said, "I--I don't know why I am d-daring to hope for alls-sorts of things. Nothing you have said really warrants it. But somehowI'm venturing to cherish an absurd notion that I may s-see her."
"Perhaps," said the Tracer, smiling.
"Mr. Keen! You wouldn't say that if--if there was no chance, would you?You wouldn't dash a fellow's hopes--"
"No, I wouldn't," said Mr. Keen. "I tell you frankly that I expect tofind her."
"To-day?"
"We'll see," said Mr. Keen guardedly. "Come, Captain, don't look thatway! Courage, sir! We are about to execute a turning movement; but youlook like a Russian general on his way to the south front."
Harren managed to laugh; they went out, side by side, descended theelevator, and found a cab at the _porte-cochere_. Mr. Keen gave thedirections and followed the Captain into the cab.
"Now," he said, as they wheeled south, "we are first going to visit theMuseum of Inscriptions and have this cipher translation verified. Hereis the cipher as I copied it. Hold it tightly, Captain; we've only a fewblocks to drive."
Indeed they were already nearly there. The hansom drew up in front of aplain granite building wedged in between some rather elaborate privatedwelling-houses. Over the door were letters of dull bronze:
AMERICAN MUSEUM OF INSCRIPTIONS
and the two men descended and entered a wide marble hall lined withglass-covered cabinets containing plaster casts of various ancientinscriptions and a few bronze and marble originals. Several femalefrumps were nosing the exhibits.
An attendant in livery stood in the middle distance. The Tracer walkedover to him. "I have an appointment to consult Miss Inwood," hewhispered.
"This way, sir," nodded the attendant, and the Tracer signaled theCaptain to follow.
They climbed several marble stairways, crossed a rotunda, and entered aroom--a sort of library. Beyond was a door which bore the inscription:
ASSISTANT CURATOR
"Now," said the Tracer of Lost Persons in a low voice to Captain Harren,"I am going to ask you to sit here for a few minutes while I interviewthe assistant curator. You don't mind, do you?"
"No, I don't mind," said Harren wearily, "only, when are we going tobegin to search for--_her_?"
"Very soon--I may say extremely soon," said Mr. Keen gravely. "By theway, I think I'll take that sheet of paper on which I copied the cipher.Thank you. I won't be long."
The attendant had vanished. Captain Harren sat down by a window andgazed out into the late afternoon sunshine. The Tracer of Lost Persons,treading softly across the carpeted floor, approached the sanctuary,turned the handle, and walked in, carefully closing the door behind him.
There was a young girl seated at a desk by an open window; she looked upquietly as he entered, then rose leisurely.
"Miss Inwood?"
"Yes."
She was slender, dark-eyed, dark-haired--a lovely, wholesome youngcreature; gracious and graceful. And that was all--for the Tracer ofLost Persons could not see through the eyes of Captain Harren, andperhaps that is why he was not able to discern a miracle of beauty inthe pretty girl who confronted him--no magic and matchless marvel oftranscendent loveliness--only a quiet, sweet-faced, dark-eyed young girlwhose features and figure were attractive in the manner that youth isalways attractive. But then it is a gift of the gods to see through eyesanointed by the gods.
The Tracer touched his gray mustache and bowed; the girl bowed verysweetly.
"You are Mr. Keen," she said; "you have an inscription for me totranslate."
"A mystery for young eyes to interpret," he said, smiling. "May I sithere--and tell my story before I show you my inscription?"
"Please do," she said, seating herself at her desk and facing him, oneslender white hand supporting the oval of her face.
The Tracer drew his chair a little forward. "It is a curious matter," hesaid. "May I give you a brief outline of the details?"
"By all means, Mr. Keen."
"Then let me begin by saying that the inscription of which I have a copywas probably scratched upon a window pane by means of a diamond."
"Oh! Then--then it is not an ancient inscription, Mr. Keen."
"The theme is ancient--the oldest theme in the world--love! The cipheris old--as old as King Solomon." She looked up quickly. The Tracer,apparently engrossed in his own story, went on with it. "Three years agothe young girl who wrote this inscription upon the window pane ofher--her bedroom, I think it was--fell in love. Do you follow me, MissInwood?"
Miss Inwood sat very still--wide, dark eyes fixed on him.
"Fell in love," repeated the Tracer musingly, "not in the ordinary way.That is the point, you see. No, she fell in love at first sight; fellin love with a young man whom she never before had seen, never againbeheld--and never forgot. Do you still follow me, Miss Inwood?"
She made the slightest motion with her lips.
"No," mused the Tracer of Lost Persons, "she never forgot him. I am notsure, but I think she sometimes dreamed of him. She dreamed of himawake, too. Once she inscribed a message to him, cutting it with thediamond in her ring on the window pane--"
A slight sound escaped from Miss Inwood's lips. "I beg your pardon,"said the Tracer, "did you say something?"
The girl had risen, pale, astounded, incredulous.
"Who are you?" she faltered. "What has this--this story to do with me?"
"Child," said the Tracer of Lost Persons, "the Seal of Solomon is asplendid mystery. All of heaven and earth are included within itssymbol. And more, more than you dream of, more than I dare fathom; and Iam an old man, my child--old, alone, with nobody to fear for, nothing todread, not even the end of all--because I am ready for that, too. Yet I,having nothing on earth to dread, dare not fathom what that symbol maymean, nor what vast powers it may exert on life. God knows. It may bethe very signet of Fate itself; the sign manual of Destiny."
He drew the paper from his pocket, unrolled it, and spread it out underher frightened eyes.
"_That!_" she whispered, steadying herself blindly against the arm heoffered. She stood a moment so, then, shuddering, covered her eyes withboth hands. The Tracer of Lost Persons looked at her, turned and openedthe door.
"Captain Harren!" he called quietly. Harren, pacing the anteroom, turnedand came forward. As he entered the door he caught sight of the girlcrouching by the window, her face hidden in her hands, and at the samemoment she dropped her hands and looked straight at him.
"_You!_" she gasped.
The Tracer of Lost Persons stepped out, closing the door. For a momenthe stood there, tall, gaunt, gray, staring vacantly into space.
"She _was_ beautiful--when she looked at him," he muttered.
For another minute he stood there, hesitating, glancing backward at theclosed door. Then he went away, stooping slightly, his top hat heldclose against the breast of his tightly buttoned frock coat.
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