Free The House Of The Bears by John Creasey Page B

rumbling. So out I popped. This fellow went straight to the minstrel gallery and waited there. I also waited. Then you came along. Breathtaking, wasn’t it?’
    ‘You were slow,’ said Palfrey.
    ‘Oh, no. I wanted to catch you with the goods,’ said McDonald. ‘How did you come to know of that hiding-place? As far as I knew, only two people had ever discovered it.’
    ‘You and your cousin,’ said Palfrey. ‘She told me.’ He explained at some length, including the broken teeth of Halsted’s youth. McDonald listened wide-eyed, then said: ‘That’s like Loretta! This little packet that I’ve got in my pocket ought to be interesting, don’t you think?’ He put his hand to his pocket and kept it there. ‘Before we open it, oughtn’t we to come to some kind of understanding?’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘Loretta’s behaviour makes it pretty clear that she was anxious that the police should learn nothing of this,’ said McDonald. ‘Of course, in some circumstances, we might have to tell the police, but not as a matter of routine. Is that understood?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey.
    ‘Good!’ said McDonald, and took the papers out.

 
6:   THE PAPERS
    There were three papers in all; two were folded and white, the third was rolled and looked like thin tracing paper, with a blue tint. McDonald handed one of the white pieces to Palfrey and unfolded the other himself. Palfrey glanced down at a set of figures; nothing else but figures in two columns, which seemed to mean nothing at all. They were not totalled, there was no word of explanation, nor was there anything in the way of a key.
    ‘What’s yours?’ asked McDonald, and handed his to Palfrey.
    The second paper was a list of numbers, 1 to 26, and opposite each was a letter of the alphabet. The first line of letters ran straight from A to Z, the others were jumbled.
    McDonald looked up, his eyes bright.
    ‘Message and code,’ he said.
    The sheet of tracing paper was a foot wide and some eighteen inches long. As it opened, Palfrey looked eagerly for the drawing. McDonald was equally expectant. When it was nearly unrolled, they glanced up and met each other’s gaze.
    ‘It can’t be blank!’ protested McDonald.
    Palfrey pulled. ‘It is,’ he said. Then he suggested: ‘Invisible ink?’
    ‘Not on tracing paper, surely. The glaze won’t take it.’
    ‘I’m no expert,’ said Palfrey, ‘but I think we’ll find, eventually, that there is something on the sheet and that it relates in some way to the two lists. I don’t see that we can do ourselves much good by worrying over it tonight.’
    ‘Well, who’s going to keep these things safe for the night? Others might know we’ve been wandering about, you know.’
    ‘Yes. I’d taken it for granted that we would make copies of the figures and letters and have one apiece,’ said Palfrey. ‘The sheet of tracing paper is a different kettle of fish.’
    ‘Keep the thing under your pillow.’
    ‘So you’ll allow me to have it?’
    ‘I have a feeling that you’re more qualified than I,’ said McDonald. He was making a copy of the letters and figures. ‘We ought to say a great deal more than we have, of course, but you’ll be here in the morning, won’t you?’
    ‘I don’t want to leave it too late. I’m going to Wenlock.’
    ‘Then I’ll come with you. I can pop in to see Loretta. Good night!’
    Palfrey opened the door. He looked along the passage and was surprised to find the guard missing. McDonald hurried down the stairs, remarkably light on his feet. Palfrey waved to him and turned back to his room, but he had not reached it when he heard his name called in a sibilant hiss. He hurried back to the landing. Looking over the great staircase, he saw McDonald kneeling over a huddled figure close to the fireplace. He hurried down.
    ‘Two of ‘em,’ said McDonald. ‘This one’s all right, I think. Just knocked out.’ He pointed to the shadowy corner by the fireplace, and Palfrey saw a