ey. "It's a bit too rough, I'm afraid.
How do you dope it out?"

"I don't know what to think. Weintraub has run that drug store for
twenty years or more. Years ago, before I ever got into the book
business, I used to know his shop. He was always rather interested in
books, especially scientific books, and we got quite friendly when I
opened up on Gissing Street. I never fell for his face very hard, but
he always seemed quiet and well-disposed. It sounds to me like some
kind of trade in illicit drugs, or German incendiary bombs. You know
what a lot of fires there were during the war--those big grain
elevators in Brooklyn, and so on."

"I thought at first it was a kidnapping stunt," said Aubrey. "I
thought you had got Miss Chapman planted in your shop so that these
other guys could smuggle her away."

"You seem to have done me the honour of thinking me a very complete
rascal," said Roger.

Aubrey's lips trembled with irritable retort, but he checked himself
heroically.

"What was your particular interest in the Cromwell book?" he asked
after a pause.

"Oh, I read somewhere--two or three years ago--that it was one of
Woodrow Wilson's favourite books. That interested me, and I looked it
up."

"By the way," cried Aubrey excitedly, "I forgot to show you those
numbers that were written in the cover." He pulled out his memorandum
book, and showed the transcript he had made.

"Well, one of these is perfectly understandable," said Roger. "Here,
where it says 329 ff. cf. W. W. That simply means 'pages 329 and
following, compare Woodrow Wilson.' I remember jotting that down not
long ago, because that passage in the book reminded me of some of
Wilson's ideas. I generally note down in the back of a book the
numbers of any pages that interest me specially. These other page
numbers convey nothing unless I had the book before me."

"The first bunch of numbers was in your handwriting, then; but
underneath were these others, in Weintraub's--or at any rate in his
ink. When I saw that he was jotting down what I took to be code stuff
in the backs of your books I naturally assumed you and he were working
together----"

"And you found the cover in his drug store?"

"Yes."

Roger scowled. "I don't make it out," he said. "Well, there's nothing
we can do till we get there. Do you want to look at the paper?
There's the text of Wilson's speech to Congress this morning."

Aubrey shook his head dismally, and lea