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URGENT! 0 confirm: DTs 2909 2300. D y? B y? N y? B.

"More code!" grunted Trounce.

"No, this isn't code, old man. This is simple abbreviation," stated Burton.

"For what?"

"Look at these letter y's with a question mark. The simplest possible answer to a question is either `yes' or `no.' If these y's represent `yes,' then the question mark, it seems to me, is a request for confirmation."

"Ah, I follow you!" exclaimed Trounce.

"And, having just listened to Algy's story, how can we doubt that D, B, and N stand for Darwin, Brunel, and Nightingale?"

"By George! Now it seems obvious! And the 0 is Oliphant, who's being asked to confirm something about them! But who is the second B?"

"I don't know. We'll come back to that. As for what it is this mysterious B wants confirmed, the two sets of numbers give it away: it's a date and a time using the twenty-four-hour clock. The 29th of September at eleven o'clock in the evening. That's this coming Sunday night. A meeting, I'll wager."

"By Jove! You're as sharp as a tack. I'd have been mulling over this note for hours! How about the DTs?"

"Delirium tremens!" suggested Swinburne enthusiastically.

"Silly ass!" Burton smiled. "I'd say it represents the location."

"If there really is a connection between Spring Heeled Jack and Oliphant, as you suspect," said Trounce softly, "mightn't DTs represent Darkening Towers? It was, after all, the home of Beresford, who was suspected of being Jack, and who was also the leader of the Rake movement before he died."

"And Oliphant is his successor!" cried Swinburne.

Burton looked at the Scotland Yard detective with an expression of admiration.

"I'd bet my right arm that you've hit the proverbial nail slap bang on its head! "

"I'm not so sure," grumbled the inspector. "It may just be a coincidence."

"Possibly; but it's a big one. Which just leaves us with the letter B. Who was Beresford's successor to the marquessate? Did he have a son?"

"No, he died without issue and the marquessate became defunct. Dark ening Towers passed to his cousin, the Reverend John de la Poet Beresford, who runs a famine-relief organisation in Ireland and who hasn't ever set foot on English soil. He rents the property, through an agent named Flagg, to one Henry Belljar, a recluse of whom no record seems to exist. Flagg himself has never seen Bell jar; their business has always been conducted entirely by post. So there's your mysterious Mr. B, Captain Burton!"

"It would seem so," responded Burton thoughtfully. "I would very much like to see this Henry Belljar. In fact, on Sunday night, if 0, D, B, and N are going to have a confab with him at Darkening Towers, then I think a third B should be present, too-B for Burton!"

"If you mean to say that you're going to spy on them, then you can jolly well count me in!" cried Trounce.

"And me!" chorused Swinburne.

"No," said Burton sharply. "I'm afraid I have to pull rank on you, Inspector; while you, Algy, are in no fit state. One person can move more quietly than three and I have experience in this sort of business-I was a spy for Sir Charles Napier during my time in India and undertook more than one mission where stealth was required."

"You'll at least allow me to loiter nearby?" grumbled Trounce petulantly. "Just in case you require reinforcements? Surely, though, we could forego the spying and simply raid the place with a squadron of constables?"

"If we do that," responded Burton, "we might never learn the full extent of their plans or lay our hands on Spring Heeled Jack."

"I insist on coming along too!" squealed Swinburne, slapping his hands against the bedsheets. "I'll not be left out!"

"Mr. Swinburne!" exclaimed Sister Raghavendra. "You'll stay in bed, sir! You are in no condition to go gallivanting around on dangerous missions!"

"I have two whole days to recover, dear lady! I shall be perfectly fine! Richard, say you'll take me!"

Burton shook his head. "You've contributed more than your fair share to this business, my friend. You nearly got