Chapter Six

Edward Childers slumped into the chair his father had vacated. “He never listens. He always goes off like a faulty pistol, just as spontaneous and just as deadly.”

Blathers pulled a chair up to the table and joined the young man and me. Blathers said, “Will ya has a brandy, young feller?”

“Why, yes, I need something.”

Seeing that Jane was busy in the kitchen, Blathers went behind the bar and brought out two glasses and the brandy bottle. He poured a drink for Edward and one for himself. I hoped he wouldn’t start to sing again. He said, “Now, young feller, would ya like ta tell us all about it?” It seemed the beverages were helping Blathers observe the rules of grammar a little better. I wondered if he and Miss Martin drank during their lessons.

Edward began his story. “I’m not sure what has happened. Alice came to work for us as a teacher for my younger brothers and sister. I was taken with her. And I believed at the time she liked me.

“One afternoon, we happened to meet in the hallway in front of the door to my father’s study. We were embracing when we heard my mother’s voice from the drawing room. We quickly tried the door to the study, and, finding it unlocked, ducked inside. We thought we were safe, as we believed my father was not in the house. We were mistaken, for within a few minutes my father entered the room and found us there. He, as usual, overreacted. He dismissed Alice, Miss Martin, on the spot, telling her to pack and leave the premises immediately. He banished me to my rooms just as though I were a child. All the time he kept yelling, ‘You all know the rule is that no one is allowed in my study.’ When mother came to see what the commotion was, he physically pushed her out of the room and slammed the door.”

I said, “He sounds like a man with a quick temper.”

Blathers added, “Yes, and very protective of his room.”

“You have seen what he is like here this afternoon. This morning when we talked and he discovered I was still seeing Alice, and that I had become best of friends with her brother, he exploded again. In a complete turn around he declared he had mistreated her, and when I told him she was doing quite well giving instructions to private students in the front room of her flat on The Strand, he went raging out of the house to find her. That is how we have come to be here.

“I must go now to see if I can find her before some other crazy thing happens.”

Blathers jumped to his feet. “I think I’ll go along wi’ you. She has asked me and Duff fer our help. She may needs it if’n you and your father is both at her at the same time.”

Young Childers and Blathers left to go to Miss Martin’s flat. I went back to our room to work on the coded message. I returned, once again, to my idea of making a list of all the facts I had already discovered about the code. After a short while I had the following:

1.Substitution ciphers are traditionally divided into groups of five letters. This one has six letters in each group, except the last. The fifth letter is a dash.

2. The final letters of each group are consecutive from A to L. But the A to L sequence starts with the fourth word.

3. If “A”, the sixth letter, is dropped from the fourth word, the name of the former owner of the Black Lion is spelled out.

4. There is a Maltese cross embossed on the paper containing the original message. There is a Maltese cross on the sign of the Black Lion.

5. It appears that rearranging the order of either the letters or the units of letters cannot solve the cipher.

Looking at the list, I was surprised to find I actually knew this much. On the other hand, I was surprised to find that, at this point, I was not able to go further. I studied my list. I studied the cipher. I studied the ceiling of our room. Nothing!

I thought that sometimes it is helpful to set a project of this nature aside. As it was nearing the end of the day, I locked my copy of the cipher and my attempts at decoding in a strong box where Blathers and I keep cash, papers, and other valuables, and set out for home. Before leaving the inn, I peeked into the taproom to see if Blathers had returned. He had not.

In the street, a thick fog had descended, bringing down with it all of the smoke of a thousand home fires. Every avenue, alley, and doorway was full of the foul-smelling, soaking-wet air. If I extended my arm out in front of me, I could not see my fingertips.

The poor visibility meant little to me. I was very used to my way of returning home. A few steps from the door of the inn I found the alley that would lead to The Strand. I was just into the alley when I heard a strange sound behind me. That is the last I remember.