ime pondering in silence on the vague sentences of the
Professor's translation, until, at length, Thorndyke reappeared, holding
the document in his hand. He laid it quietly on the table by the
officer, and then inquired:

"Is this an official consultation?"

"Certainly," replied Miller. "I was authorized to consult you respecting
the translation, but nothing was said about the original. Still, if you
want it for further study, I will get it for you."

"No, thank you," said Thorndyke. "I have finished with it. My theory
turned out to be correct."

"Your theory!" exclaimed the superintendent, eagerly. "Do you mean to
say--?"

"And, as you are consulting me officially, I may as well give you this."

He held out a sheet of paper, which the detective took from him and
began to read.

"What is this?" he asked, looking up at Thorndyke with a puzzled frown.
"Where did it come from?"

"It is the solution of the cryptogram," replied Thorndyke.

The detective re-read the contents of the paper, and, with the frown of
perplexity deepening, once more gazed at my colleague.

"This is a joke, sir; you are fooling me," he said sulkily.

"Nothing of the kind," answered Thorndyke. "That is the genuine
solution."

"But it's impossible!" exclaimed Miller. "Just look at it, Dr. Jervis."

I took the paper from his hand, and, as I glanced at it, I had no
difficulty in understanding his surprise. It bore a short inscription in
printed Roman capitals, thus:

"THE PICKERDILLEY STUF IS UP THE CHIMBLY 416 WARDOUR ST 2ND FLOUR BACK
IT WAS HID BECOS OF OLD MOAKEYS JOOD MOAKEY IS A BLITER."

"Then that fellow wasn't an anarchist at all?" I exclaimed.

"No," said Miller. "He was one of Moakey's gang. We suspected Moakey of
being mixed up with that job, but we couldn't fix it on him. By Jove!"
he added, slapping his thigh, "if this is right, and I can lay my hands
on the loot! Can you lend me a bag, doctor? I'm off to Wardour Street
this very moment."

We furnished him with an empty suit-case, and, from the window, watched
him making for Mitre Court at a smart double.

"I wonder if he will find the booty," said Thorndyke. "It just depends
on whether the hiding-place was known to more than one of the gang.
Well, it has been a quaint case, and instructive, too. I suspect our
friend Barton and the evasive Schoenberg were the collaborators who
produced that curiosity of literature."

"May I ask how you deciphered the thing?" I said.