"Has Birdie taken to free verse," he asked mildly, when he had perused the amazing document a second time, "or are we both mad?" Teal shook his head. "Nor is Birdie in love, as far as I can make out," he said. At the Albany, Storm invited the detective upstairs, for he felt like anything but endeavouring to put in a few hours' sleep before commencing the next day's work. "You may as well wait a bit and have breakfast with me," he said as they went in. "Has anyone else been getting busy on this little puzzle?" "It's a code, of course," said Teal unnecessarily, and Storm stopped in the hall to wring his hand in mute admiration. "You're a genius!" he declared brokenly when he had found his voice. Comfortably ensconced in a deep armchair, with one of Storm's cigars between his teeth, the somnambulous Mr. Teal became less trite. "Our tame expert's on the job, but he's nowhere near it yet. Said it was like nothing in his experience. It's something absolutely new. I suppose it's simple enough really, but these experts have such conventionally eccentric minds that the obvious always gets by them." "Thank God I'm not an expert," said Storm fervently. He mixed himself a drink, carried the cigarette box over to the centre table, lighted a smoke, and began to work. He was silent for a long time, and then he leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The pencil in his hand drummed against his teeth, began to beat out a meditative tattoo. The sound interested him, apparently, to the exclusion of everything else, and then suddenly he brought his chair back to the vertical and permitted himself a soft "Jerusalem!" of satisfaction. He wrote swiftly for a few moments, and then turned to the expectant Teal. "Who are the H's we know in this case?" he asked. Teal pondered. "There's Harry the Toff--I think he's in. And Horring, the hold-up man--he's reformed lately, which always makes me think of Triangles these days. Oh, and Hannassay; but Hannassay's dead and buried. That's all I can remember off-hand." "I can add one to that list," said Storm, and crossed to the telephone. There was a short silence, and then he was speaking into the instrument. "Hullo--Terry? What on earth are you up for at this hour? ... Oh, I see.... Yes, I'll bet there was some vertical breeze! Got home all right, though? ... Mmm--alone? ... Not even Uncle Joe? ... Lazy piker! Look here, can I speak to her? Is she up still? ... Right." He covered the transmitter with his hand while he waited, and addressed Teal. "This is the H you couldn't remember off-hand," he remarked. "I want another man to watch her, and I'll have the coats off their backs if she slips 'em again!" "Miss Hawthorne?" queried Teal, mildly interested.