The Apartment Next Door, William Andrew Johnston [red novels .txt] 📗

Her first thought was to thrust the little scrap of paper in her purse and start again in pursuit of old Hoff, but a sudden light began to dawn on her. This was a cipher message, of course. The old man had left it here for some one to come and get. If she followed Hoff, how was she to discover who the message was for? Puzzled as to what she should do, she borrowed a pencil from the clerk on the pretense of writing a postal and hastily copied the figures, after which she restored the slip to the book in which she had found it.

Glancing about undecidedly, wondering if it would do to take the clerk into her confidence, wishing she had some means of reaching Mr. Fleck and asking his advice, she spied in a drug-store just across the street a telephone booth. She could telephone from there and at the same time keep her eye on the store. Quickly she did so, twisting her head around all the time she was 'phoning to make sure that no one entered opposite.

"Is this Mr. Fleck?" she asked. "This is Miss Jones."

"So soon?" came back his voice. "What has happened? What is the matter? Have you changed your mind?"

"Not at all," she answered indignantly. "I've discovered something already--a cipher message."

"What's that?"

Even over the wire she could sense the eagerness in Mr. Fleck's tone, and a sense of achievement brought a radiant glow to her cheek.

"I ran into that man--you know whom--"

"The young one?" he interrupted.

"No, the uncle."

"Yes, yes, go on," cried Mr. Fleck impatiently.

"I followed him along Broadway after I got off at 96th Street and into a library and stationery store. I watched him fuss over the books there, and I think he got a slip of paper with a message out of one of them."

"Good," cried Mr. Fleck, "that is something new. Go on."

"And then he slipped a paper into a book--"

"Did you notice what book?"

"I don't know the title. It was the fifth book from the end on the second shelf, and I got the paper and copied it."

"Splendid. What did the message say?"

"It's just a lot of figures. I put it back after copying it, and I am in a drug-store across the street where I can watch to see if any one comes to get the message. What shall I do now?"

"Can you remain there fifteen minutes without arousing suspicion?"

"Certainly. I'll say I am waiting for some one."

"Good. I'll get in touch with Carter at once. He'll tell you what to do when he arrives."

Impatiently Jane sat there, keeping vigilant watch on the entrance across the street, determined to be able to describe minutely each person that entered. From time to time she surreptitiously studied the postcard on which she had jotted down the mysterious numbers. How utterly meaningless they looked. Surely it would be impossible for any one, even Mr. Fleck, to decipher any message that these figures might convey. It would be impossible unless one had the key. Figures could be made to mean anything at all. She doubted if her discovery could be of much importance after all, yet certainly Mr. Fleck had seemed quite excited about it.

She spied Carter passing in a taxi. Two other men were with him. Her first impulse was to run out in the street and signal to him, but she waited, wondering what she should do. She was glad she had not acted impulsively, for a moment later Carter entered alone, evidently having left the car somewhere around the corner. She expected that he would address her at once, but that was not Carter's way. He went to the soda counter and ordered something to drink, his eyes all the while studying his surroundings. Presently he pretended to discover her sitting there. To all appearances it might have been an entirely casual meeting of acquaintances.

"Good-morning, Miss Jones," he said quite cordially, extending his hand. "I'm lucky to have met you, for my daughter gave me a message for you."

He put just a little stress on the words "my daughter" and Jane understood that he was referring to "Mr. Fleck."

"Indeed," she replied, "what is it?"

"She wants you to go down-town at once and meet her at Room 708--you know the building."

"Aren't you coming, too?"

"Not right away. I have some errands to do in the neighborhood. I've got to buy a book for a birthday present. There's a library around here somewhere, isn't there?"

"Just across the street," said Jane, entering into the spirit of the masked conversation with interest. "I was looking at a fine book over there a few minutes ago. You'll find it on the second shelf--the fifth book from the end, on the north side of the store."

"I'll remember that," said Carter, repeating, "the fifth book on the second shelf."

"That's right," said Jane, as they left the drug-store together.

"Which way did the old man go?" asked Carter.

"Down Broadway--toward home," she replied. "I wanted to follow him, but it seemed more important to stay here and watch to see if any one came for the message he left there in the book."

"You did just right, and the Chief is tickled to death. He wants to see you right away. You have a copy of the message, haven't you?"

"Yes, do you wish to see it?"

"No, but he does. Has anybody entered the store since you were there?"

"Nobody, that is no one but a couple of girls."

"What did they look like? Describe them."

"Why," Jane faltered, "I did not really notice. I was not looking for girls. I was watching to see that no other men entered the store."

Carter shook his head.

"You ought to have spotted them, too. You never can tell who the Germans will employ. They have women spies, too,--clever ones."

"I never thought of their using girls," protested Jane.

"Humph," snapped Carter, "ain't we using you? Ain't one of our best little operatives right this minute working in a nursegirl's garb pulling a baby carriage with a baby in it up and down Riverside Drive? Well, it can't be helped. You'd better beat it down-town to the Chief right away."

"I'll take a subway express," said Jane, feeling somewhat crestfallen at his implied suggestion of failure.

Twenty-five minutes later found her once more in Mr. Fleck's office. Thrilling with the excitement of it all she told him in detail how she had followed old Hoff and of his peculiar actions in the bookstore.

"And here," she said, presenting the postcard, "is an exact copy of the cipher message he left there. I copied every figure, in the columns, just as they were set down. I don't suppose though you'll be able to make head or tail out of it. I know I can't."

"Don't be too sure of that," smiled Chief Fleck, as he took the card. "When you get used to codes, most of them identify themselves at the first glance--at least they tell what kind of a code it is. That's one thing about the Germans that makes their spy work clumsy at times. They are so methodical that they commit everything to writing. Now the most important things I know are right in here"--he tapped his head. "Every once in a while they ransack my rooms, but they never find anything worth while. Now this code"--he was studying the card intently--"seems to be one of a sort that our friends from Wilhelmstrasse are ridiculously fond of using. It is manifestly a book code."

"A book code," Jane repeated perplexedly. "I don't understand."

"It is very simple when two persons who wish to communicate with each other secretly both have a copy of some book they have agreed to use. They write their message out and then go through the book locating the words of the message by page, line and word. That's what the three columns mean. Our only problem is to discover which is the book they both have. They often employ the Bible or a dictionary or--"

He stopped abruptly and studied the columns of figures.

"This code," he went on, "on its face is from a book that has at least 544 pages. One of the pages has at least 76 lines--that's the middle column--so the book must be set in small type."

"What book do you suppose it is?" asked Jane interestedly. She was glad now that she had listened to Carter. She was sure she was going to like being in the service. It was all so interesting, and she was learning so many fascinating things.

"If my theory is right those letters indicate that the book used was an almanac. That's the book that Wilhelmstrasse made use of when a wireless message was sent in cipher to the German ambassador directing him to warn Americans not to sail on the Lusitania. They betrayed themselves at the Embassy by sending out to buy a copy of this almanac. Let's see how our theory works out."

Taking up an almanac that lay on his desk he began turning to the pages indicated in the first column of figures, checking off the lines indicated in the second column and putting a ring around the words marked by the third column of figures.

"Let's see--page 534--fifth line--second word--that's (eight). Now then--page 331--that's the chronology of the war in the almanac, so I guess we are on the right track--fifty-fourth line--sixth word--(transport)."

"Isn't it wonderful!" cried Jane.

"Damn them," he exploded. "I know we are on the right track. Some transports with our troops sailed this morning, and already the German spies are spreading the news, hoping to get it to one of their unspeakable U-boats."

Quickly he ran through the rest of the cipher, writing it out as he went along:

EIGHT--TRANSPORT--SAILED--THURSDAY--15,000--INFANTRY--FIVE DESTROYERS.

As Fleck finished