“We’ll go back, if you please. I wanted just to spy out the land, so to speak.” In a few minutes they were back again at the panelled entrance. “We’ll start from here,” said Battle. “Seven straight, eight left, three right. Take the first as paces.” He paced seven steps carefully, and bending down examined the ground. “About right, I should fancy. At one time or another, there’s been a chalk mark made here. Now then, eight left. That’s not paces, the passage is only wide enough to go Indian file anyway.” “Say it in bricks,” suggested Anthony. “Quite right, Mr. Cade. Eight bricks from the bottom or the top on the left-hand side. Try from the bottom first—it’s easier.” He counted up eight bricks. “Now three to the right of that. One, two, three—Hullo—— Hullo, what’s this?” “I shall scream in a minute,” said Bundle, “I know I shall. _What_ is it?” Superintendent Battle was working at the brick with the point of his knife. His practised eye had quickly seen that this particular brick was different from the rest. A minute or two’s work, and he was able to pull it right out. Behind was a small dark cavity. Battle thrust in his hand. Every one waited in breathless expectancy. Battle drew out his hand again. He uttered an exclamation of surprise and anger. The others crowded round and stared uncomprehendingly at the three articles he held. For a moment it seemed as though their eyes must have deceived them. A card of small pearl buttons, a square of coarse knitting and a piece of paper on which were inscribed a row of capital E’s! “Well,” said Battle. “I’m—I’m danged! What’s the meaning of this?” “_Mon Dieu_,” muttered the Frenchman. “_Ça, c’est un peu trop fort!_” “But what does it mean?” cried Virginia, bewildered. “Mean?” said Anthony. “There’s only one thing it can mean. The late Count Stylptitch must have had a sense of humour! This is an example of that humour. I may say that I don’t consider it particularly funny myself.” “Do you mind explaining your meaning a little more clearly, sir?” said Superintendent Battle. “Certainly. This was the Count’s little joke. He must have suspected that his memorandum had been read. When the crooks came to recover the jewel, they were to find instead this extremely clever conundrum. It’s the sort of thing you pin on to yourself at Book Teas, when people have to guess what you are.” “It has a meaning, then?” “I should say, undoubtedly. If the Count had meant to be merely offensive, he would have put a placard with ‘Sold’ on it, or a picture of a donkey or something crude like that.” “A bit of knitting, some capital E’s, and a lot of buttons,” muttered Battle discontentedly. “_C’est inoui_,” said Lemoine angrily. “Cipher No. 2,” said Anthony. “I wonder whether Professor Wynward would be any good at this one?” “When was this passage last used, milady?” asked the Frenchman of Bundle. Bundle reflected.