“None of the experts have had success. Yet I have been assured that the best minds have been at work upon the code.”
The stranger read the letter. He nodded his head slightly as he perused its contents. He placed the letter upon the desk and stared thoughtfully at Doctor Lukens.
“What is your opinion?” questioned the physician.
“The experts have stated the facts,” the strange man spoke.
“Why, then, have you come to see me?”
“Because I should like to see the original code. I have examined a photostatic copy only. I have formed my opinions. I do not believe that I shall change them. Nevertheless, I should like to see the original.”
Doctor Lukens handed over the required document. The stranger studied it for several minutes while the physician watched him in bewilderment. At last the man with the dark-tinted glasses replaced the code on the desk.
“The photostatic copy is identical,” he said. “That is all I needed to know.”
Something in the man’s tone inspired Doctor Lukens with hope.
“Ah!” exclaimed the physician. “You believe that a solution is possible?”
The stranger shook his head.
“Quite the contrary,” he replied. “Like the others who have examined it, I must say that I can read no message in it. It is not a cryptogram. It is not a numbered code. It does not correspond to any existing system of code making.”
Doctor Lukens sighed in disappointment.
“There are various systems of code,” explained the visitor in his quiet, easy voice, “and all codes are not decipherable. There are certain codes which depend upon artificial languages or vocabularies known only to those who have prepared them. Such codes are virtually unsolvable.
“I have examined many codes. In every one I have at least found a clew to the system involved. I have met with systems that are apparently new; yet in each instance they have borne some similarity to an existing type of code.
“The experts to whom you have sent copies of this code have doubtless had experiences similar to mine. Therefore I concur with their decisions — but I must add a statement of my own.”
Doctor Lukens listened intently. The stranger did not speak for a moment. He was thinking, about to phrase an important statement.
“The experts,” resumed the stranger, “say that they can not solve the code. Do they say that it is impossible to solve the code?”
“They have implied it,” returned the physician promptly.
“They are correct in that implication,” said the stranger. “I suppose then that their reason lies in the fact that the system of the code is entirely unique.”
“That is certainly the reason.”
“It is not a good reason. The solution of any code is within the realm of possibility — even though its system is entirely new.”
“Then the code can be solved?” There was sudden hope in Doctor Lukens’ voice.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“A code,” said the man in black, “is a message transcribed into some ingenious system of lettering or characters. Am I correct?”
“Certainly,” agreed Doctor Lukens.
“Then this is not a code!”
“Not a code?”
“No,” replied the stranger with a faint smile. “Even the man who wrote it cannot solve it. It is merely a collection of oddly shaped characters arranged to deceive those who attempt to read it!”
CHAPTER V. MURDER REVEALED!
DOCTOR GEORGE LUKENS was thoroughly amazed by the statement made by his strange midnight visitor. The emphasis of the man’s words impressed the physician. A train of confused thoughts ran through his brain.
The revelation that the characters on the paper found in Marchand’s desk were not a code, but a meaningless jargon, seemed unbelievable. Nevertheless, Doctor Lukens did not doubt the truth of the man’s declaration. The stranger seemed too sincere.
“You seem perplexed,” observed the stranger. “I do not wonder that you are. You have convinced yourself — as others have done, also — that this paper bore a coded message.
“I do not blame the experts for their opinions. When they have tried every system known to themselves, they naturally assume that they have encountered something new.”
“But you did not assume that,” returned Lukens.
“No,” replied the stranger, “because I am more confident of my ability. When I had studied the supposed code and subjected it to all my tests without a single clew, I knew that there could be but one answer: the paper is a hoax!”
“What, then, is its purpose?”
“To mislead. To arouse false theories. To accomplish the very thing which has been accomplished. To make people believe that Henry Marchand’s death was an accident — when in reality it was a cleverly contrived murder!”
“A murder!” Lukens gripped the arms of the chair.
“Speak softly,” urged the stranger. “I am talking to you in confidence. I closed the door when I entered. We must be overheard by no one.”
The physician nodded.
“I must admit,” said the stranger quietly, “that the circumstances of Henry Marchand’s death substantiated my belief that the paper was a spurious code.
“I am familiar with the most important details. On that account I see great flaws in the theory which Inspector Klein presented as a solution of Marchand’s death.”
“What, in particular?”
“First,” continued the strange man, “the preventive measure of a poisoned needle.
“Marchand had an alarm upon his safe; a tear-gas ejector upon the closet door. Neither of these were dangerous. Why, then, should he have a death-dealing device hidden in this desk?”
“Because this paper — code or no code — must have been of vital importance—”
“You are wrong, Doctor Lukens,” interrupted the stranger. “If the secret drawer contained a vital secret, Marchand would not have placed a murderous device there.
“Had some one died in this room, the old man could not have explained the matter except by disclosing a secret which he was most anxious to preserve.”
“That is true,” admitted the physician.
“MARCHAND’S death,” resumed the stranger, “was attributed to his forgetfulness. Marchand knew himself that he was forgetful, did he not?”
“He did.”
“Why, then, would he have been so foolish as to lay a snare for himself?”
“I see your point,” agreed Doctor Lukens. “Of course, Marchand must have been anxious to preserve the secret of this hidden drawer—”
“Of course,” interposed the stranger, “and the ingenious mechanical arrangement was sufficient in itself.
“No one would ever have suspected the existence of the drawer. Why the necessity of the poisoned needle?”
“But the needle was there! And the thimble, too!”
The stranger smiled at the physician’s words.
“The needle and the thimble,” repeated the man in black. “Also the spurious code — sealed in an envelope.”
“That’s right,” agreed Doctor Lukens. He drew the opened envelope from his pocket. The stranger reached over to examine it.
“Let us suppose that this document was considered valuable by Henry Marchand,” suggested the stranger. “Why did he keep it here rather than in a safe-deposit vault?”
“So it would be where he could watch it — or refer to it,” replied the physician.
“Agreed. Kept in a concealed drawer, opened by an ingenious device, the paper would be well protected.
“But why should it be in a sealed envelope? That would be no deterrent to a thief who might discover the secret of the drawer. Marchand could not have wanted to protect the envelope. A clever thief, stealing the document, would substitute a similar envelope stuffed with blank paper.