Books: In Secret

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"I see," he said, "very nice, very handy! But we don't need these to
convict us."

She laughed and handed him the instruments; and he pocketed them and
followed her downstairs.

Her car was waiting, engine running; she spoke to the Kadiak
chauffeur, got in, and Vaux followed.

"You know," he said, pulling the mink robe over her and himself,
"you're behaving very badly to your superior officer."

"I'm so excited, so interested! I hope I'm not lacking in deference
to my honoured Chief of Division. Am I, Mr. Vaux?"

"You certainly hustle me around some! This is a crazy thing we're
doing."

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"You're an autocrat. You're a lady-Nero! Tell me, Miss Erith, were
you ever afraid of anything on earth?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Lightning and caterpillars."

"Those are probably the only really dangerous things I never
feared," he said. "You seem to be young and human and feminine. Are
you?"

"Oh, very."

"Then why aren't you afraid of being shot for a burglar, and why do
you go so gaily about grand larceny?"

The girl's light laughter was friendly and fearless.

"Do you live alone?" he inquired after a moment's silence.

"Yes. My parents are not living."

"You are rather an unusual girl, Miss Erith."

"Why?"

"Well, girls of your sort are seldom as much in earnest about their
war work as you seem to be," he remarked with gentle irony.

"How about the nurses and drivers in France?"

"Oh, of course. I mean nice girls, like yourself, who do near-war
work here in New York--"

"You ARE brutal!" she exclaimed. "I am mad to go to France! It is a
sacrifice--a renunciation for me to remain in New York. I understand
nursing and I know how to drive a car; but I have stayed here
because my knowledge of ciphers seemed to fit me for this work."

"I was teasing you," he said gently.

"I know it. But there is SO much truth in what you say about
near-war work. I hate that sort of woman.... Why do you laugh?"

"Because you're just a child. But you are full of ability and
possibility, Miss Erith."

"I wish my ability might land me in France!"

"Surely, surely," he murmured.

"Do you think it will, Mr. Vaux?"

"Maybe it will," he said, not believing it. He added: "I think,
however, your undoubted ability is going to land us both in jail."

At which pessimistic prognosis they both began to laugh. She was
very lovely when she laughed.

"I hope they'll give us the same cell," she said. "Don't you?"

"Surely," he replied gaily.

Once he remembered the photograph of Arethusa in his desk at
headquarters, and thought that perhaps he might need it before the
evening was over.

"Surely, surely," he muttered to himself, "hum--hum!"

Her coupe stopped in Fifty-sixth Street near Madison Avenue.

"The car will wait here," remarked the girl, as Vaux helped her to
descend. "Lauffer's shop is just around the corner." She took his
arm to steady herself on the icy sidewalk. He liked it.

In the bitter darkness there was not a soul to be seen on the
street; no tramcars were approaching on Madison Avenue, although far
up on the crest of Lenox Hill the receding lights of one were just
vanishing.

"Do you see any policemen?" she asked in a low voice.

"Not one. They're all frozen to death, I suppose, as we will be in a
few minutes."

They turned into Madison Avenue past the Hotel Essex. There was not
a soul to be seen. Even the silver-laced porter had retired from the
freezing vestibule. A few moments later Miss Erith paused before a
shop on the ground floor of an old-fashioned brownstone residence
which had been altered for business.

Over the shop-window was a sign: "H. Lauffer, Frames and Gilding."
The curtains of the shop-windows were lowered. No light burned
inside.

Over Lauffer's shop was the empty show-window of another shop--on
the second floor--the sort of place that milliners and tea-shop
keepers delight in--but inside the blank show-window was pasted the
sign "To Let."

Above this shop were three floors, evidently apartments. The windows
were not lighted.

"Lauffer lives on the fourth floor," said Miss Erith. "Will you
please give me the jimmy, Vaux?"

He fished it out of his overcoat pocket and looked uneasily up and
down the deserted avenue while the girl stepped calmly into the open
entryway. There were two doors, a glass one opening on the stairs
leading to the upper floors, and the shop door on the left.

She stooped over for a rapid survey, then with incredible swiftness
jimmied the shop door.

The noise of the illegal operations awoke the icy and silent avenue
with a loud, splitting crash! The door swung gently inward.

"Quick!" she said. And he followed her guiltily inside.

The shop was quite warm. A stove in the rear room still emitted heat
and a dull red light. On the stove was a pot of glue, or some other
substance used by gilders and frame makers. Steam curled languidly
from it; also a smell not quite as languid.

Vaux handed her an electric torch, then flashed his own. The next
moment she found a push button and switched on the lights in the
shop. Then they extinguished their torches.

Stacks of frames in raw wood, frames in "compo," samples gilded and
in natural finish littered the untidy place. A few process
"mezzotints" hung on the walls. There was a counter on which lay
twine, shears and wrapping paper, and a copy of the most recent
telephone directory. It was the only book in sight, and Miss Erith
opened it and spread her copy of the cipher-letter beside it. Then
she began to turn the pages according to the numbers written in her
copy of the cipher letter.

Meanwhile, Vaux was prowling. There were no books in the rear room;
of this he was presently assured. He came back into the front shop
and began to rummage. A few trade catalogues rewarded him and he
solemnly laid them on the counter.

"The telephone directory is NOT the key," said Miss Erith, pushing
it aside. A few moments were sufficient to convince them that the
key did not lie within any of the trade catalogues either.

"Have you searched very carefully?" she asked.

"There's not another book in the bally shop."

"Well, then, Lauffer must have it in his apartment upstairs."

"Which apartment is it?"

"The fourth floor. His name is under a bell on a brass plate in the
entry. I noticed it when I came in." She turned off the electric
light; they went to the door, reconnoitred cautiously, saw nobody on
the avenue. However, a tramcar was passing, and they waited; then
Vaux flashed his torch on the bell-plate.

Under the bell marked "Fourth Floor" was engraved Herman Lauffer's
name.

"You know," remonstrated Vaux, "we have no warrant for this sort of
thing, and it means serious trouble if we're caught."

"I know it. But what other way is there?" she inquired naively. "You
allowed me only twenty-four hours, and I WON'T back out!"

"What procedure do you propose now?" he asked, grimly amused, and
beginning to feel rather reckless himself, and enjoying the feeling.
"What do you wish to do?" he repeated. "I'm game."

"I have an automatic pistol," she remarked seriously, tapping her
fur-coat pocket, "--and a pair of handcuffs--the sort that open and
lock when you strike a man on the wrist with them. You know the
kind?"

"Surely. You mean to commit assault and robbery in the first degree
upon the body of the aforesaid Herman?"

"I-is that it?" she faltered.

"It is."

She hesitated:

"That is rather dreadful, isn't it?"

"Somewhat. It involves almost anything short of life imprisonment.
But _I_ don't mind."

"We couldn't get a search-warrant, could we?"

"We have found nothing, so far, in that cipher letter to encourage
us in applying for any such warrant," he said cruelly.

"Wouldn't the excuse that Lauffer is an enemy alien and not
registered aid us in securing a warrant?" she insisted.

"He is not an alien. I investigated that after you left this
afternoon. His parents were German but he was born in Chicago.
However, he is a Hun, all right--I don't doubt that.... What do you
propose to do now?"

She looked at him appealingly:

"Won't you allow me more than twenty-four hours?"

"I'm sorry."

"Why won't you?"

"Because I can't dawdle over this affair."

The girl smiled at him in her attractive, resolute way:

"Unless we find that book we can't decipher this letter. The letter
comes from Mexico,--from that German-infested Republic. It is
written to a man of German parentage and it is written in cipher.
The names of Luxburg, Caillaux, Bolo, Bernstorff are still fresh in
our minds. Every day brings us word of some new attempt at sabotage
in the United States. Isn't there ANY way, Mr. Vaux, for us to
secure the key to this cipher letter?"

"Not unless we go up and knock this man Lauffer on the head. Do you
want to try it?"

"Couldn't we knock rather gently on his head?"

Vaux stifled a laugh. The girl was so pretty, the risk so
tremendous, the entire proceeding so utterly outrageous that a
delightful sense of exhilaration possessed him.

"Where's that gun?" he said.

She drew it out and handed it to him.

"Is it loaded?"

"Yes."

"Where are the handcuffs?"

She fished out the nickel-plated bracelets and he pocketed his
torch. A pleasant thrill passed through the rather ethereal anatomy
of Mr. Vaux.

"All right," he said briskly. "Here's hoping for adjoining cells!"

To jimmy the glass door was the swiftly cautious work of a moment or
two. Then the dark stairs rose in front of them and Vaux took the
lead. It was as cold as the pole in there, but Vaux's blood was
racing now. And alas! the photograph of Arethusa was in his desk at
the office!

On the third floor he flashed his torch through an empty corridor
and played it smartly over every closed door. On the fourth floor he
took his torch in his left hand, his pistol in his right.

"The door to the apartment is open!" she whispered.

It was. A lamp on a table inside was still burning. They had a
glimpse of a cheap carpet on the floor, cheap and gaudy furniture.
Vaux extinguished and pocketed his torch, then, pistol lifted, he
stepped noiselessly into the front room.

It seemed to be a sort of sitting-room, and was in disorder;
cushions from a lounge lay about the floor; several books were
scattered near them; an upholstered chair had been ripped open and
disembowelled, and its excelsior stuffing strewn broadcast.

"This place looks as though it had been robbed!" whispered Vaux.
"What the deuce do you suppose has happened?"

They moved cautiously to the connecting-door of the room in the
rear. The lamplight partly illuminated it, revealing it as a
bedroom.

Bedclothes trailed to the floor, which also was littered with dingy
masculine apparel flung about at random. Pockets of trousers and of
coats had been turned inside out, in what apparently had been a
hasty and frantic search.

The remainder of the room was in disorder, too; underwear had been
pulled from dresser and bureau; the built-in wardrobe doors swung
ajar and the clothing lay scattered about, every pocket turned
inside out.

"For heaven's sake," muttered Vaux, "what do you suppose this
means?"

"Look!" she whispered, clutching his arm and pointing to the
fireplace at their feet.

On the white-tiled hearth in front of the unlighted gas-logs lay the
stump of a cigar.

From it curled a thin thread of smoke.

They stared at the smoking stub on the hearth, gazed fearfully
around the dimly lighted bedroom, and peered into the dark
dining-room beyond.

Suddenly Miss Erith's hand tightened on his sleeve.

"Hark!" she motioned.

He heard it, too--a scuffling noise of heavy feet behind a closed
door somewhere beyond the darkened dining-room.

"There's somebody in the kitchenette!" she whispered.

Vaux produced his pistol; they stole forward into the dining-room;
halted by the table.

"Flash that door," he said in a low voice.

Her electric torch played over the closed kitchen door for an
instant, then, at a whispered word from him, she shut it off and the
dining-room was plunged again into darkness.

And then, before Vaux or Miss Erith had concluded what next was to
be done, the kitchen door opened; and, against the dangling lighted
bulb within, loomed a burly figure wearing hat and overcoat and a
big bass voice rumbled through the apartment:

"All right, all right, keep your shirt on and I'll get your coat and
vest for you--"

Then Miss Erith flashed her torch full in the man's face, blinding
him. And Vaux covered him with levelled pistol.

Even then the man made a swift motion toward his pocket, but at
Vaux's briskly cheerful warning he checked himself and sullenly and
very slowly raised both empty hands.

"All right, all right," he grumbled. "It's on me this time. Go on;
what's the idea?"

"W-well, upon my word!" stammered Vaux, "it's Cassidy!"

"F'r the love o' God," growled Cassidy, "is that YOU, Mr. Vaux!" He
lowered his arms sheepishly, reached out and switched on the ceiling
light over the dining-room table. "Well, f'r--" he began; and,
seeing Miss Erith, subsided.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Vaux, disgusted with this
glaring example of interference from another service.

"What am I doing?" repeated Cassidy with a sarcastic glance at Miss
Erith. "Faith, I'm pinching a German gentleman we've been watching
these three months and more. Is that what you're up to, too?"

"Herman Lauffer?"

"That's the lad, sir. He's in the kitchen yonder, dressing f'r to
take a little walk. I gotta get his coat and vest. And what are you
doing here, sir?"

"How did YOU get in?" asked Miss Erith, flushed with chagrin and
disappointment.

"With keys, ma'am."

"Oh, Lord!" said Vaux, "we jimmied the door. What do you think of
that, Cassidy?"

"Did you so?" grinned Cassidy, now secure in his triumphant priority
and inclined to become friendly.

"I never dreamed that your division was watching Lauffer," continued
Vaux, still red with vexation. "It's a wonder we didn't spoil the
whole affair between us."

"It is that!" agreed Cassidy with a wider grin. "And you can take it
from me, Mr. Vaux, we never knew that the Postal Inspection was on
to this fellow at all at all until you called me to stop outgoing
letters."

"What have you on him?" inquired Vaux.

Cassidy laughed:

"Oh, listen then! Would you believe this fellow was tryin' the old
diagonal trick? Sure it was easy; I saw him mail a letter this
afternoon and I got it. I'd been waiting three months for him to do
something like that. But he's a fox--he is that, Mr. Vaux! Do you
want to see the letter? I have it on me--"

He fished it out of his inside pocket and spread it on the dining
table under the light.

"You know the game," he remarked, laying a thick forefinger on the
diagonal line bisecting the page. "All I had to do was to test the
letter by drawing that line across it from corner to corner. Read
the words that the line cuts through. Can you beat it?"

Vaux and Miss Erith bent over the letter, read the apparently
innocent message it contained, then read the words through which the
diagonal line had been drawn.

Then Cassidy triumphantly read aloud the secret and treacherous
information which the letter contained:

"SEVEN UNITED STATES TRANSPORTS TO-DAY NEW YORK (BY THE) NORTHERN
ROUTE. INFORM OUR U-BOATS. URGENCY REQUIRES INSTANT MEASURES. TEN
MORE ARE TO SAIL FROM HERE NEXT WEEK."

"The dirty Boche!" added Cassidy. "Dugan has left for Mexico to look
up this brother of his and I'm lookin' up this snake, so I guess
there's no harm done so far."

"New York.

"January 3rd. 1916.

"My dear Brother:

"For seven long weeks I have awaited a letter from you. The
United-States mails from Mexico seem to be interrupted. Imagine my
transports of joy when at last I hear from you today. You and I,
dear brother, are the only ones left of our family--you in Vera
Cruz. I in New-York--you in a hot Southern climate, I in a Northern,
amid snow and ice, where the tardy sun does not route me from my bed
till late in the morning.

"However, I inform you with pleasure that I am well. I rejoice that
our good health is mutual. After all, the dear old U. S. suits me.
Of course railroads or boats could carry me to a warm climate, in
case urgency required it. But I am quite well now, and my health
requires merely prudence. However, if I am again ill at any instant,
I shall leave for Florida, where all tho proper measures can be
taken to combat my rheumatism,

"Ten days ago I was in bed, and unable to do more than move my left
arm. But th« doctors are confident that my malady is not going to
return. If it does threaten to return I shall sail for Jacksonville
at once, and from there go to Miami, and not return here until the
warm and balmy weather of next spring has lasted at least a week.
Affectionataly your brother.

"Herman."

He pocketed the letter and went into the bedroom to get a coat and
vest for the prisoner. Miss Erith looked at Vaux.

"Cassidy seems to know nothing about the code-cipher," she
whispered. "I think he rummaged on general principles, not in search
of any code-book."

She looked around the dining-room. The doors of the yellow oak
sideboard were open, but no book was there among the plated knives
and forks and the cheap dishes.

Cassidy came back with the garments he had been looking for--an
overcoat, coat and vest--and he carried them into the kitchenette,
whither presently Vaux followed him.

Cassidy had just unlocked the handcuffs from the powerful wrists of
a dark, stocky, sullen man who stood in his shirt-sleeves near a
small deal table.

"Lauffer?" inquired Vaux, dryly.

"It sure is, ain't it, Herman?" replied Cassidy facetiously. "Now,
then, me Dutch bucko, climb into your jeans, if YOU please--there's
a good little Boche!"

Vaux gazed curiously at the spy, who returned his inspection coolly
enough while he wrinkled his nose at him, and his beady eyes roamed
over him.

When the prisoner had buttoned his vest and coat, Cassidy snapped on
the bracelets again, whistling cheerily under his breath.

As they started to leave the kitchenette, Vaux, who brought up the
rear, caught sight of a large, thick book lying on the pantry shelf.
It was labelled "Perfect Cook-Book," but he picked it up, shoved it
into his overcoat pocket en passant, and followed Cassidy and his
prisoner into the dining-room.

Here Cassidy turned humorously to him and to Miss Erith.

"I've cleaned up the place," he remarked, "but you're welcome to
stay here and rummage if you want to. I'm sending one of our men
back to take possession as soon as I lock up this bird."

"All right. Good luck," nodded Vaux.

Cassidy tipped his derby to Miss Erith, bestowed a friendly grin on
Vaux.

"Come along, old sport!" he said genially to Lauffer; and he walked
away with his handcuffed prisoner, whistling "Garryowen."

"Wait!" motioned Vaux to Miss Erith. He went to the stairs, listened
to the progress of agent and prey, heard the street-door clash, then
hastened back to the lighted dining-room, pulling the "Perfect
Cook-Book" from his pocket.

"I found that in the kitchenette," he remarked, laying it before her
on the table. "Maybe that's the key?"

"A cook-book!" She smiled, opened it. "Why--why, it's a
DICTIONARY!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"A dictionary!"

"Yes! Look! Stormonth's English Dictionary!"

"By ginger!" he said. "I believe it's the code-book! Where is your
cipher letter, Miss Erith!"

The girl produced it with hands that trembled a trifle, spread it
out under the light. Then she drew from her pocket a little pad and
a pencil.

"Quick," she said, "look for page 17!"

"Yes, I have it!"

"First column!"

"Yes."

"Now try the twentieth word from the top!"

He counted downward very carefully.

"It is the word 'anagraph,'" he said; and she wrote it down.

"Also, we had better try the twentieth word counting from the bottom
of the page up," she said. "It might possibly be that."

"The twentieth word, counting from the bottom of the column upward,
is the word 'an,'" he said. She wrote it.

"Now," she continued, "try page 15, second column, third word from
TOP!"

"'Ambrosia' is the word."

"Try the third word from the BOTTOM."

"'American.'"

She pointed to the four words which she had written. Counting from
the TOP of the page downward the first two words were "Anagraph
ambrosia." But counting from the BOTTOM upward the two words formed
the phrase: "AN AMERICAN."

"Try page 730, first column, seventh word from the bottom," she
said, controlling her excitement with an effort.

"The word is 'who.'"

"Page 212, second column, first word!"

"'For.'"

"Page 507, first column, seventh word!"

"'Reasons.'"

"We have the key!" she exclaimed. "Look at what I've written!--'An
American who for reasons!' And here, in the cipher letter, it goes
on--'of the most'--Do you see?"

"It certainly looks like the key," he said. "But we'd better try
another word or two."

"Try page 717, first column, ninth word."

"The word is 'vital.'"

"Page 274, second column, second word."

"'Importance!'"

"It is the key! Here is what I have written: 'An American who for
reasons, of the most vital importance!' Quick. We don't want a
Secret Service man to find us here, Mr. Vaux! He'd object to our
removing this book from Lauffer's apartment. Put it into your pocket
and run!" And the pretty Miss Erith turned and took to her heels
with Vaux after her.

Through the disordered apartment and down the stairs they sped, out
into the icy darkness and around the corner, where her car stood,
engine running, and a blanket over the hood.

As soon as the chauffeur espied them he whisked off the blanket;
Miss Erith said: "Home!" and jumped in, and Vaux followed.

Deep under the fur robe they burrowed, shivering more from sheer
excitement than from cold, and the car flew across to Fifth Avenue
and then northward along deserted sidewalks and a wintry park, where
naked trees and shrubs stood stark as iron in the lustre of the
white electric lamps.

"That time the Secret Service made a mess of it," he said with a
nervous laugh. "Did you notice Cassidy's grin of triumph?"

"Poor Cassidy," she said.

"I don't know. He butted in."

"All the services are working at cross-purposes. It's a pity."

"Well, Cassidy got his man. That's practically all he came for.
Evidently he never heard of a code-book in connection with Lauffer's
activities. That diagonal cipher caught him."

"What luck," she murmured, "that you noticed that cook-book in the
pantry! And what common sense you displayed in smuggling it!"

"I didn't suppose it was THE book; I just took a chance."

"To take a chance is the best way to make good, isn't it?" she said,
laughing. "Oh, I am so thrilled, Mr. Vaux! I shall sit up all night
over my darling cipher and my fascinating code-book-dictionary."

"Will you be down in the morning?" he inquired.

"Of course. Then to-morrow evening, if you will come to my house, I
shall expect to show you the entire letter neatly deciphered."

"Fine!" he exclaimed as the car stopped before her door.

She insisted on sending him home in her car, and he was very
grateful; so when he had seen her safely inside her house with the
cook-book-dictionary clasped in her arms and a most enchanting smile
on her pretty face, he made his adieux, descended the steps, and her
car whirled him swiftly homeward through the arctic night.

CHAPTER II

THE SLIP

When Clifford Vaux arrived at a certain huge building now mostly
devoted to Government work connected with the war, he found upon his
desk a dictionary camouflaged to represent a cook-book; and also
Miss Erith's complete report. And he lost no time in opening and
reading the latter document:

"CLIFFORD VAUX, ESQ.,

"D. C. of the E. C. D.,

"P. I. Service. (Confidential)

"Sir:

"I home the honour to report that the matter with which you have
entrusted me is now entirely cleared up.

"This short preliminary memorandum is merely to refresh your memory
concerning the particular case herewith submitted in detail.

"In re Herman Laufer:

"The code-book, as you recollect, is Stormonth's English Dictionary,
XIII Edition, published by Wm. Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh and
London, MDCCCXCVI. This book I herewith return to you.

"The entire cipher is, as we guessed, arbitrary and stupidly
capricious. Phonetic spelling is indulged in occasionally--I should
almost say humorously--were it not a Teuton mind which evolved the
phonetic combinations which represent proper names not found in that
dictionary--names like Holzminden and New York, for example.

"As for the symbols and numbers, they are not at all obscure.
Reference to the dictionary makes the cipher perfectly clear.

"In Stormonth's Dictionary you will notice that each page has two
columns; each column a varying number of paragraphs; some of the
paragraphs contain more than one word to be defined.

"In the cipher letter the first number of any of the groups of
figures which are connected by dashes (--) and separated by vertical
(|) represents the page in Stormonth's Dictionary on which the word
is to be found.

"The second number represents the column (1 or 2) in which the word
is to be found.

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