afterwardsgone to the great reading-room.
Proceeding there. Professor Griffin quickly made inquiries, discoveringpresently that the man had given the name of Rosenberg. He was shown aslip upon which was written the titles of the two rare works he hadconsulted. They were:
"Cryptomengsis Patefacta (1685)," and "Kryptographik, Kluber (1809)."
These were, he recognised, the two leading works on cryptography,explaining, as they did, all the early systems of secret writing fromthe _scytalc_ in use by the early Greeks down to the biliteral cipher ofSir Francis Bacon. It was therefore quite plain that the stranger,whoever he might be, though at Oxford he had made those calculations inorder to test the existence of a numerical cipher in the Book ofEzekiel, had not yet discovered any true key.
This knowledge gave Griffin great satisfaction. The loss of thatcrumpled paper from his pocket was, he recognised of no import.
Inquires of the librarian showed that the stranger was not known in thereading-room as a regular reader. Yet he agreed, as indeed had otherlibrarians and keepers of manuscripts, that the old man was undoubtedlya scholar.
This person's will-o'-the-wisp existence was most tantalising. Inappearance he was described as an old white-headed man with deep-seteyes and a longish white beard, rather shabbily dressed and wearing along black overcoat much the worse for wear. Great scholars are notremarkable for their neatness in dress. They are mostly neglectful, asindeed was Professor Griffin himself. To Gwen, her father was aconstant source of anxiety, for only at her supreme command would heeven order a new suit, and his evening clothes were so old and out ofshape that she had, times without number, declared herself ashamed to goout to the smart houses at which they were so often asked to dine.
But genius is always forgiven its garments, and the fact that thebearded stranger was described as shabby and almost threadbare did notsurprise the man who went about equally shabby himself.
If he were interested in the "Cryptomengsis Patefacta," then one thingwas proved. His researches at the Bodleian had been without result.
The continued absence of Gwen, however, prevented Griffin fromcontinuing his inquiries. Though times without number he opened theHebrew text of Ezekiel and tried to study it, yet he was unable toconcentrate his mind upon it, and always closed the book again with adeep sigh.
The house was dull and empty without little Gwen's bright smile andmusical voice. This, he realised, was a foretaste of his lonelinesswhen she was married.
Next day dragged by. The following day was cold and wet, and he spentit mostly alone in his study, after he had been round to thepolice-station and obtained a negative reply to his question as towhether his beloved daughter had been discovered.
That she was absent against her win he was convinced. She would neverhave left him in that manner to allow him to fear for her safety.
Seated alone, he brought out those large photographs of Diamond'shalf-destroyed manuscript, and tried to centre his mind upon them. But,alas! he was unable. Therefore, as the short grey afternoon drew in,with a sigh he rose, put on his overcoat, and telling Laura he would notbe back to dinner, he went forth to wander the London streets. He couldbear the dead silence of that house no longer.
Just before seven o'clock the dining-room bell rang, and the dark-eyedparlour-maid, ascending the stairs, entered the room.
"Lor', miss!" gasped the Cockney girl. "You did give me a fright! Howlong have you been 'ome?"
Gwen, who stood before her, pale and thin-faced and with hair slightlydishevelled, explained that she had just let herself in with thelatch-key.
"The Professor's out, miss. 'E said 'e wouldn't be 'ome to dinner," thegirl remarked. "Oh, we've been very worried about you, miss! Theperlice 'ave searched 'igh and low for yer. We all thought somethingdreadful 'ad 'appened. Wherever 'ave you been all these days?"
"That's my own business," answered the Professor's daughter. "I've comeback safe and sound, and I'm now going to my room. Tell my father whenhe comes in that I'm very tired. Perhaps he won't return till late."
"Shall I bring you up something, miss?" asked the girl.
"Yes, some tea. I want nothing else."
And she ascended to her own neat bedroom on the second floor where,after closing the door, she flung herself upon the bed and burst intotears.
Her nerves had been unstrung by the severe ordeal she had gone through.When the maid brought her tea, she dried her eyes and allowed the girlto assist her to change her dusty skirt and torn blouse, and after agood wash and a cup of tea she felt decidedly better and refreshed.
Laura lit a fire, and when it had burnt up Gwen flung herself into hercretonne-covered armchair to rest and to think.
Since she had last sat in that cosy well-remembered room of hers therehad been hideous happenings. The past seemed to her all like a baddream. She shuddered as she recalled it. Even the events of that dayhardly seemed clear and distinct. Her recollection of them was hazy, soagitated and anxious had she been. Why she had been so suddenlyreleased from that hateful bondage was also to her a complete mystery.
She was recalling that first interview with the coarse, red-faced manwhose name she had not been told: with what little consideration he hadtreated her, and how he had compelled her to come forth from herstronghold in order to speak with him.
He had asked her many curious questions, the purport of which she couldnot discern. Some of them concerned her father's recent actions andmovements; some of them concerned the man she loved.
But she was independent, and refused point-blank to answer anything.She defied that man who, in turn, jeered at her helplessness, and soinsulted her that the flush of shame rose upon her white cheeks.
"You shall answer me these questions, young lady," cried the pompous manin firm determination, "or it will be the worse for you!" he added witha look, the real meaning of which she was unable to disguise fromherself.
Yet she stood defiant, even though she was helpless in his hands.
"My father's business does not concern you," she had cried, "and if youthink his daughter will betray him into the hands of his enemies you aremistaken, sir!"
The bloated, red-faced brute blurted forth a quick imprecation, andwould have struck her had not the tall man who was her janitorinterfered, saying:
"No, don't. She'll reconsider her refusal, no doubt."
"If she does not tell me everything--everything we want to know--and ifshe does not consent to do our bidding and bring to us whatever wedesire, then she need not look for mercy. She is ours, and we shalltreat her as such. The man who called himself `Wetherton' shall comeback to her. He'll very soon overcome her scruples and cause her toreflect!" the man had laughed hoarsely.
"Give her time," suggested the tall man.
"We want no more of these heroics about her betraying her father," theother sneered. "If so, she'll regret it. You know, Charlie, what Imean: how more than one girl has bitterly regretted her defiance."
Gwen fell suddenly upon her knees, imploring to be allowed to go free.But her tormentor only repeated his threats in terms which left no doubtas to what he intended should be the poor girl's fate, and laughing hetook up his hat and strode forth.
From that moment the tall man addressed as Charlie, though he would giveno explanation whatever as to the reason those strange questions hadbeen put to her concerning her father and her lover, treated her withthe greatest consideration, yet at the same time kept constantlyexpressing a fear that, if she still refused, the danger threatenedwould certainly befall her.
Again, on the following day, the fat red-faced inquisitor came and putthose questions to her. But he still found her obdurate. Sherecognised that those people were her father's enemies, therefore shehad determined to say nothing.
Ah! would she ever forget all the horror of those dramatic interviews--the dastardly threats of that blackguard who laughed at her unhappinessand who uttered words which caused her face to burn with shame.
And the
n came the final scene, just as suddenly as the first.
The inquisitor came again, and after another violent scene left,declaring that the false "Wetherton" should return and become herjanitor in place of the man she knew as Charlie.
The latter seemed pained and very anxious after the red-faced man hadgone. She inquired the reason, but he only sighed, declaring that theman under whose power they both were would most certainly carry out histhreat towards her.
Half mad with anxiety and grief, she had then confided in the tall man,telling him a brief disjointed story of the half-burned manuscript, inthe course of which she had mentioned the name of a man whom she hadnever met--Doctor Diamond, of Horsford. Her lover, she explained, wasthe Doctor's friend.
The man had put to her a few rapid questions