The Great God Gold Part 15

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.

Before his vision rose those mystical figures 255.19.7. written in fire.

What was the hidden meaning therein contained?

One line of the sum he recollected: "7.3.4.1.0.9." multiplied by 5.

Mental calculation resulted in the answer of 3670646. There was a sum to add to it. But alas! he could not remember the figures of it.

Therefore the clue, so unexpectedly obtained, was lost.

So he sat alone, his head buried in his hands in deepest despair.

Gwen crept in in silence, but seeing her father's att.i.tude, crept out again without disturbing him, and read in the drawing-room alone, until it was time to return to her room.

"Shall I ever solve the mystery?" cried the Professor aloud to himself as he paced the room presently. "Misfortune has befallen me! With that fragment deciphered I could by careful study have learned the key and then read what that mysterious searcher has undoubtedly read. Ah! if I could only meet him. Then I would follow and watch his movements. But alas! I am always too late--too late!"

As he sank again into a chair, plunged in the wildest despair, the dark figure of a tall, thick-set, military-looking man of about forty, in a long dark overcoat, pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed the house in the rainy night.

For some time, he had been waiting at Notting Hill Gate Station, almost opposite the end of Pembridge Gardens, glancing at the clock now and then, as though impatiently watching for someone. Then, at last, as if full of determination he had crossed the Bayswater Road, and strolled slowly past Professor Griffin's house, eyeing its lighted windows with considerable curiosity as he went by.

He continued his walk as far as the end of the road which led into Pembridge Square, and there halted for shelter for a full five minutes beneath the portico of a house. Then he retraced his steps, re-pa.s.sing the house which had aroused so much interest within him, until he came to the station where he again stood in patience.

The watcher was an active, rather good-looking man, though the reason of his presence there was not at all apparent. To pa.s.s the time he bought an evening paper, and stood in the corner reading it, yet in such a position that he could watch everybody who entered or left the Underground Railway Station. There was a slight foreign cast in his features. His keen dark eyes were searching everywhere, while the clothes he wore were the clothes of a man of refined taste.

From time to time there played about his dark face a sinister smile--a smile of triumph. He was evidently not a man to be trifled with, and it seemed very much as though he held the owner of that comfortable house in resentment.

The words he muttered as he stood there pretending to read were, in themselves, sufficient indication of this:

"They thought to trick him--to trick me--but by Jove, they'll find themselves mistaken!" and his claw-like hand gripped the newspaper until it trembled in his grasp.

He lit a cigarette, and twice crossed the road. Standing at the corner of Pembridge Gardens, he again looked up the street, dark, misty, and deserted on that winter's night.

"They laugh at us without a doubt," he muttered to himself. "They laugh, because they think he's fool enough to give away the secret.

Yes, they take him for a blind idiot. Frank Farquhar has gone upon a fool's errand to Denmark, intending to `freeze us out' of what is justly ours. When he returns, he will find that I have checkmated both him and his friend Griffin, in a manner in which he little expects."

His countenance was full of craft and cunning; his smile was sufficient index to his character.

Soon after ten o'clock, while standing at the corner of Pembridge Gardens, he suddenly drew back into the shadow, turned upon his heel and crossed the road to the station, in order to avoid notice.

Having gained the opposite pavement, he drew back again into the shadow, and saw a female figure in a short dark skirt, and wearing a handsome white fox boa, hurrying across the road in his direction.

She pa.s.sed him, and he for the first time caught sight of her pretty face. It was Gwen Griffin.

Apparently she was in a frantic hurry, for she rushed into the booking-office and in her haste to get a ticket, dropped her purse.

Then, when she had run down the stairs to the platform, the silent watcher followed leisurely, obtained a ticket for Earl's Court, but was careful not to gain the platform until the girl had already left.

"I thought the story would alarm her," he laughed to himself as he stood awaiting the next "Circle" train. "Ah, my fine young fellow, you've made a great and a most fatal error!" he added with a dry laugh, as he paced the platform.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.