The Tracer of Lost Persons

t us use our intellects; let us talk it over with that paper lying there between us. It's a simple cipher-a childishly simple one if we use our wits. Now, sir, what

me one of the lines composing it; some seal

inquired Har

supposed to represent the spiritual and materia

book about it, but

ain within itself the nine numerals, 1, 2, 3,

lieve

. Here's

two, and three by cross

n

w

re

all lines not cro

e

e

th

s the enti

the

per, gazing earnestly at the cipher; the Tracer rose and

telephone he

laimed Harren. "These things mean numbers; don't you

! You can form it by using only

u see, M

in; quite as easy to read as so much handwriting. That is

ind if I go on working out this

in's bedroom, closing the door behind him; then he stepped over to th

Keen. I want to sp

s Borrow answered: "

York first-Edith Inwood is the name. Loo

es; then Miss Borrow's low vo

said the Tra

rt herself-became an assistant to Professor Boggs of the Museum of Inscriptions. Is considered an authority upon Arabian cryptograms. Has w

e Tracer; "pl

useum of Inscriptions. Get me their number, please."

ssor Bogg

Profess

to decipher an inscri

tremely busy, but have you n

say her name i

ate the inscription at once if I se

ll send a messenger to Miss Inwood wi

ghtfully, opened the door again, and

high state of excitement. "I've got

g over the young man's broad shoulders a

-21-20-15-14-3-5-9-12-15-22-5-25-

, smiling. "Now what do you supp

ne, for example. The ninth letter in the alphabet is I! Mr. Keen,

," agreed the

n set down the letters in the following ord

UTONCEILOVEYO

d back, excit

in silence, and gradually a hopeless expression effaced the animation. "How t

the pencil from his fingers, and he wrote: I-N

cil on the table and

r a while he turned, retracing his steps leisurely. Captain Harren, extremely

ired the Tra

n?" he demanded shakily. "Who is Edith Inwood? W-what on earth does that cryptogram mean on t

y: "That is not a phot

ha

at sash; now count the panes in your window-eight! Besides, look at that curtain. It is made o

ograph! She stood there-t

through the glass. And, studying it, he said: "Do yo

Can you no

lly stood by when her phantom came here seeking you. And that

estly; something in Mr. Keen's

s likely we are g-going

ngers meditatively-"If I were you I should wear a silk hat and a frock coat. It's-

d entered his bedroom. And when he emerged he

l s-sorts of things. Nothing you have said really warrants it. But so

aid the Trac

-if there was no chance, would you?

Keen. "I tell you frankly

-da

hat way! Courage, sir! We are about to execute a turning movement;

ed the elevator, and found a cab at the porte-cochère. Mr. Ke

m of Inscriptions and have this cipher translation verified. Here is the ciph

of a plain granite building wedged in between some rather elaborate

USEUM OF I

red cabinets containing plaster casts of various ancient inscriptions and a fe

nce. The Tracer walked over to him. "I have an a

attendant, and the Tracer si

a rotunda, and entered a room-a sort of library

TANT

n Harren, "I am going to ask you to sit here for a few minutes

wearily, "only, when are we go

ely. "By the way, I think I'll take that sheet of paper

fternoon sunshine. The Tracer of Lost Persons, treading softly across the carpeted floor, app

k by an open window; she looked up qui

s In

es

rren, and perhaps that is why he was not able to discern a miracle of beauty in the pretty girl who confronted him-no magic and matchless marvel of transcendent loveliness-only a quiet, sweet

ay mustache and bowed; th

aid; "you have an inscrip

e said, smiling. "May I sit here-and tell

t her desk and facing him, one slender w

. "It is a curious matter," he said. "May

means, M

ion of which I have a copy was probably scratc

s not an ancient in

ickly. The Tracer, apparently engrossed in his own story, went on with it. "Three years ago the young girl who wrote

ry still-wide, dar

you see. No, she fell in love at first sight; fell in love with a young man whom she never

lightest motio

I think she sometimes dreamed of him. She dreamed of him awake, too. Once she insc

ood's lips. "I beg your pardon," sai

en, pale, astoun

ered. "What has this-th

n I dare fathom; and I am an old man, my child-old, alone, with nobody to fear for, nothing to dread, not even the end of all-because I am ready for that, too. Yet I, having nothing on

ket, unrolled it, and spread i

ed. She stood a moment so, then, shuddering, covered her eyes with both h

. As he entered the door he caught sight of the girl crouching by the window, her face hi

she g

ing the door. For a moment he stood there, t

-when she looked a

t the closed door. Then he went away, stooping slightly, his top h