"No!" I answered. "I am sorry to say that as yet I have nothing definite; though I am bound to say I am satisfied that there is a cipher." "Have you tried both the numbers and the dots?" "Both," I answered; "but as yet I want a jumping-off place." "Do you really think from what you have studied that the cipher is a biliteral one, or on the basis of a biliteral cipher?" "I do! I can't say exactly how I came to think so; but I certainly do." "Are there combinations of five?" "Not that I can see." "Are there combinations of less than five?" "There may be. There are certainly." "Then why on earth don't you begin by reducing the biliteral cipher to the lowest dimensions you can manage? You may light on something that way." A light began to dawn upon me, and I determined that my task--so soon as my friends had left Cruden--would be to reduce Bacon's biliteral. It was with genuine admiration for her suggestion that I answered Miss Anita: "Your woman's intuition is quicker than my man's ratiocination. 'I shall in all my best obey you, Madam!'" She painted away steadily for some time. I was looking at her, covertly but steadily when an odd flash of memory came to me; without thinking I spoke: "When I first saw you, as you and Mrs. Jack stood on the rock, and away beyond you the rocks were all fringed with foam, your head looked as if it was decked with flowers." For a moment or two she paused before asking: "What kind of flowers?" Once again in our brief acquaintance I stood on guard. There was something in her voice which made me pause. It made my brain whirl, too, but there was a note of warning. At this time, God knows, I did not want any spurring. I was head over heels in love with the girl, and my only fear was lest by precipitancy I should spoil it all. Not for the wide world would I have cancelled the hopes that were dawning in me and filling me with a feverish anxiety. I could not help a sort of satisfied feeling as I answered: "White flowers!" "Oh!" she said impulsively, and then with a blush continued, painting hard as she spoke: "That is what they put on the dead! I see!" This was a counter-stroke with a vengeance. It would not do to let it pass so I added: "There is another 'first-column' function also in which white flowers are used. Besides, they don't put flowers on the head of corpses." "Of whom then?" The note of warning sounded again in the meekness of the voice. But I did not heed it. I did not want to heed it. I answered: "Of Brides!" She made no reply--in words. She simply raised her eyes and sent one flashing glance through me, and then went on with her work. That glance was to a certain degree encouragement; but it was to a much greater degree dangerous, for it was full of warning. Although my brain was whirling, I kept my head and let her change the conversation with what meekness I could.