the mark. During the year that had passed, she too had tried her
luck among the Experts, and had failed. Having recently heard of a
foreign interpreter of ciphers, she had written to ask his terms.
The reply (just received) not only estimated his services at an
extravagantly high rate, but asked cautious questions which it was not
convenient to answer. Another attempt had been made to discover the
mystery of the cipher, and made in vain.

James Bellbridge had his moments of good-humor, and was on those rare
occasions easily amused. He eyed the child with condescending curiosity.
"Looks half starved," he said--as if he were considering the case of a
stray cat. "Hollo, there! Buy a bit of bread." He tossed a penny to Syd
as she left the room; and took the opportunity of binding his bargain
with Syd's mother. "Mind! if I take you to New York, I'm not going to be
burdened with both your children. Is that girl the one you leave behind
you?"

Mrs. Westerfield smiled sweetly, and answered: "Yes, dear."

7.--The Cipher.

An advertisement in the newspapers, addressed to persons skilled in
the interpretation of ciphers, now represented Mrs. Westerfield's only
chance of discovering where the diamonds were hidden. The first answer
that she received made some amends for previous disappointment. It
offered references to gentlemen, whose names were in themselves a
sufficient guarantee. She verified the references nevertheless, and paid
a visit to her correspondent on the same day.

His personal appearance was not in his favor--he was old and dirty,
infirm and poor. His mean room was littered with shabby books. None of
the ordinary courtesies of life seemed to be known to him; he neither
wished Mrs. Westerfield good-morning nor asked her to take a seat. When
she attempted to enter into explanations relating to her errand, he
rudely interrupted her.

"Show me your cipher," he said; "I don't promise to study it unless I
find it worth my while."

Mrs. Westerfield was alarmed.

"Do you mean that you want a large sum of money?" she asked.

"I mean that I don't waste my time on easy ciphers invented by fools."

She laid the slip of paper on his desk.

"Waste your time on _that_," she said satirically, "and see how you like
it!"

He examined it--first with his bleared red-rimmed eyes; then with a
magnifying-glass. The only expression of opinion that escaped him was
indicated by his actions. He shut up his book, and gloated over