Part 15 (1/2)

Professor Griffin studied it carefully, however, and mentally submitted it to certain tests.

What was written upon the paper was as follows:

The Professor begged leave to take it with him to London, whereupon the a.s.sistant-librarian replied: ”It seems very much as though our friend the stranger is applying some numerical cipher to that fragment of Deuteronomy, does it not? Of course, Professor, you may have it--and welcome. I confess I cannot make head or tail of it.”

”Nor I either,” laughed Griffin, blinking through his spectacles. ”Yet it interests me, and I thank you very much for it. Apparently this foreigner believes that he has made some discovery. Ah!” he added, ”how many cranks there are among Hebrew scholars--more especially the cabalists!”

And in pretence of ignorance of the true meaning of that curious arrangement of figures, the Professor placed the sc.r.a.p of paper in his breast-pocket, and returned to the Randolph Hotel, where he had tea, afterwards sitting for a long time in the writing-room with the stranger's discarded calculation spread before him.

In the left-hand corner of the piece of paper was something which puzzled him extremely. In a neat hand were written the figures, 255.19.7. And while awaiting his train, he lit his big briar pipe, and seating himself before the fire, tried to think out what they could mean.

But though he pondered for over an hour he failed to discern their object. They were evidently the stranger's signature.

He applied the Hebrew equivalents to them, and they were as follows: ”Beth. He. He, A-leph-Teth. Za-yin.” But they conveyed to him absolutely nothing.

Seated alone in the corner of the first-cla.s.s carriage, he again took out the sc.r.a.p of paper, and held it before him. That there was a cipher deciphered into the words ”of the Temple that,” was apparent.

He started with the ordinary numerical values of the Hebrew alphabet.

They were 7.3.4.1.0.9. which meant: Za-yin, Gi-mel, Da-leth, A-leph, the zero, and Teth. These were multiplied by He, which meant 5. Then 719220, meaning certain other letters, were added and multiplied by yodh, or ten. From each number of the total 3, or Gi-mel, was subtracted, and the English translation of the figures that remained was: ”of the Temple that--”

To such a man, versed in all the cabalistic ciphers of the ancients, the truth was plain. Extremely involved and ingenious it was, without a doubt, but by careful study of this he would, he saw, be able to find the key being used by the aged man who had in such an uncanny way signed himself ”255.19.7.”

He replaced it carefully in his pocket, and lighting his pipe, set back in the carriage to reflect.

Ah! if he could only come across that will-o'-the-wisp who was engaged in the search after the truth. Probably he possessed the context of the burnt doc.u.ment, and could supply the missing portion. But if so, how had it fallen into his hands?

The affair was a problem which daily became more interesting and more extraordinary.

At Westbourne Park Station, when the collector came for his ticket, he fumbled for it in his pocket, but was unable for some time to find it.

Then at Paddington he took a taxi-cab home, arriving in time for a late dinner.

Gwen bright and cheerful, sat at the head of the table as was her habit, inquisitive as to her father's movements and discoveries.

But to her carefully guarded inquiries he remained mute. He had been down to the Bodleian, he said, but that was all. The old man longed to get back to the restful silence of his own study to examine the sc.r.a.p of paper left by the stranger, and from it to determine the exact key to that very ingenious numerical cipher.

The man who was in search of the same secret as himself was a weird person, to say the least. Both in London and in Oxford, he had come across the aged man's trail. That he was unknown in England as a scholar was apparent, and that he was a deeply read man and student of Hebrew was equally plain.

He was not a Jew. Both the Library a.s.sistants at the British Museum and at the Bodleian had agreed upon that point.

They had declared that he was from the north of Europe. Was he a Dane from Copenhagen, like the dead man who had preferred to be known as Jules Blanc?

Arminger Griffin ate his dinner in impatience carefully avoiding the questions his pretty daughter put to him. Then he ascended to the study, having bidden her good-night. She had received no news of Frank, it seemed. For what reason had the young man so suddenly left for Copenhagen? The question caused him constant apprehension. Could he have discovered any clue to the existence of the context of the doc.u.ment?

More than once during the day he had been half tempted to go himself to Denmark, but the discovery of the aged stranger's arithmetical calculations induced him to remain in London and watch.

Having switched on the light he crossed the room, and seating himself at the table felt in his pocket for the scribbled calculation. He failed to find it. He was horrified. It had gone!

He must have pulled it from his pocket at Westbourne Park while searching for his ticket. His loss was, indeed, a serious one. In frantic haste he searched all his other pockets, but in vain. The sc.r.a.ps of crumpled paper which contained the key to a portion of the cipher upon which the stranger was working was gone!

He sank into his armchair in despair.