d his father wink at Barby, then walk toward the kitchen.
"Dad's right," he announced. "He must be. So let's put the book back and
start figuring this out. The answer probably is easy as pie once we find
the key."

"How about starting with that odd letter?" Scotty asked. "That has to
mean something."

"L is the twelfth letter in the alphabet," Barby offered. "Does that
mean anything?"

Rick shook his head. "Not to me. But let's start from there, anyway.
Maybe the twelfth group of numbers has a clue."

He counted rapidly across the number groups. "That group is 4399693. Now
what?"

Scotty suggested, "Substitute letters for the numbers. That would make
it DCIIFIC. That doesn't mean anything."

"Maybe you counted the wrong way," Barby said thoughtfully. "Count down
the columns instead of across."

Rick did so. "That's 8337373. Substitute and it comes out ... let's
see ... HCCGCGC. Nothing there, either."

Scotty had a pad of paper and a pencil and was making idle doodles. "I'm
trying to recall. When did Chahda learn anything about codes?"

Rick thought for a moment. "He never did, that I know of," he said
finally.

Barby stood up. "Well, I'm going to shower and change before dinner,"
she announced. "But I'll keep thinking. I have an idea that talking
about it won't help much. If Dad and Rick are right about his using a
code we're sure to know, it must be staring us in the face and we're too
blind to see it."

"Good idea," Rick agreed. "Let's break this up and each think about it.
If we each search our memories, maybe we'll come up with a clue."

Barby went upstairs and Scotty retired to his favorite seat on the
porch. But Rick felt that he could think better on his feet. A glance at
his watch told him he had over an hour and a half before dinner. He
waved at Scotty and walked across the grass toward the gray stone
laboratory buildings. Professor Weiss was in his office working on some
mathematical theory he was developing. It was away over Rick's head. For
a moment he thought of posing the problem to the little professor, then
thought better of it and passed by the lab on the south side. He skirted
the woods and crossed Pirate's Field, so called because local legend
said the famed woman pirate, Anne Bonney, had once landed there with her
gang of cutthroats. He paused for a moment and studied the fused sand
left by the terrific heat when the first moon rocket was launched, but
the barren patch gave him no in