The Penguin Book of Gaslight Crime - Michael Sims [88]
I sat down at my table, and made bread pellets; and then I began to bed each of the “stones” into a pellet. As I did so, I became aware that some one was peeping in the window that looks into the saloon. I glanced into the mirror, across on the opposite bulkshead of my cabin, and saw for an instant the face of my servant.
This is what I had expected.
“So ho! my lad!” I said to myself. “I guess this is the last trip you’ll take with me; for, though I’ll see you aren’t dangerous now, you may be some other time.”
When I had done coating my “diamonds” with bread, I went forrard to my hen-coop, and began to feed the pellets to the birds. As I turned away from giving the last of the big bread pills, I literally bumped into Mr. Aglae, who had just come round the end of the coop. Obviously, he had received word from my servant, and had been watching me feed diamonds to my hens, so as to hide my illegal jewelry, while the search officers were aboard!
It was rather funny to see the way in which the diamond spy put on a vacant expression, and apologized for his clumsiness, blaming the rolling of the vessel. As a matter of fact, he had no business in that part of the ship at all; and I made a courteous reference to this fact; for I wished him to think that I was disturbed and annoyed by his being there at so (apparently) critical a moment for me.
Later on, when I went into the wireless room, I found Mr. Aglae sending a wireless; and I sat down on the lounge to write my own message, while Melson (the Operator) was sending.
Instead, however, of writing out my own message, I jotted down the dot and dash iddle-de-umpty of the iggle-de-piggle that the Operator was sending; for it was a private code message, and ran: 17 a y b o z w r e y a a j g o o a v o o 1 o w t p q 2 2 3 2 1 m v n 6 7 a m n t 8 t s .17. aglae. g.v.n.
I smiled; for it was the latest official cypher, and I had the “key” in my pocket-book. It is desirable to have what is popularly called “a friend in high quarters.” Only my friend is not very high, at least, not highly paid; though his secretarial position gives him access in a certain government office to papers that help him considerably to make both ends meet.
After Mr. Aglae had departed, I took out my “key,” and translated the message, while Melson was sending mine. Translated, it was this: “Hens fed on hundreds of diamonds concealed in bread pellets. Better come out in the pilot tug. Shall mark coop. I must not appear in the case at all. Most important capture of years. 17. Aglae. g. v. n.”
This was sent to a private address, merely as a blind; for Mr. Aglae would be of little further use as a diamond spy if he began sending cypher messages to the Head Office! The 17, just before his name, I knew must be his official number; and I was interested, and perhaps a little impressed; for I have heard of the unknown “Number 17” before. He had effected some wonderful captures among the diamond smugglers. I wondered what he might look like, minus what I began now to suspect was both false stomachic appendage, and dyed hair, plus his little, vaguely foreign mannerisms, to suit.
The letters “g.v.n.,” which followed the signature, were the inner “keys” to the message; for the cypher is really clever, in that a long message can be sent with a limited number of symbols, by a triplicate reading, according to the use of the various combinations—the working of which the main “key” explains, and which are indicated by the combination letters, which are always written, in this cypher, after the signature.
As I went out of the wireless room, I had a second splendid idea. I got some bread-crumbs as an excuse, and had another walk down to the well-deck to look at my coop of prize chickens, and I came slam on Number 17 (as I now called him to myself) just strolling off.
Now, I had made it plain to him that he had no business down there, and I called to him, to ask him what he