now, and report any developments
as soon as you have an opportunity."

When the operative had gone, Blaine drew forth the cryptogram received
the previous evening and compared the two. They were identical in
character, although from the formation of the letters and figures, the
message each conveyed was a different one. The first had baffled him,
and he scrutinized the second with freshly awakened interest:

[Illustration: An image of a coded message is shown here in the text.]

The three lines fascinated him by their tantalizing problem, and he
could not take his eyes from them. The musical notes could be easily
read in place of letters, of course, with the sign of the treble clef
as a basic guide, but the other figures still puzzled him.

All at once, a word upon the lowest line which explained itself caught
his eye; then another and another, until the method of deciphering the
whole message burst upon his mind. One swift gesture, a few eagerly
scrawled calculations, and the truth was plain to him.

Calling his secretary, he hastily dictated a letter.

"I want a copy of that sent at once, by special delivery, to every
physician and surgeon in town, no matter how obscure. See to it that
not one is overlooked. Even those on the staffs of the different
hospitals must be notified, although they are the least likely to be
called upon. Above all, don't forget the old retired one, those of
shady professional reputation and the fledglings just out of medical
colleges. It's a large order, Marsh, but it's bound to bring some
result in the next forty-eight hours."

With the closing of the door behind his secretary, Henry Blaine rose
and paced thoughtfully back and forth the length of his spacious
office. The problem before him was the most salient in its importance
of any which had confronted him during his investigation of the Lawton
mystery--probably the weightiest of his entire career. Should he,
dared he, throw caution to the winds and step out into the open, in
his true colors at last?

It was as if he held within his hands the kernel of the mystery, yet
surrounded still by an invulnerable shield of cunning and duplicity
with which the master criminals had so carefully safe-guarded their
conspiracy. He held it within his hands, and yet he could not break
the shell of the mystery and expose the kernel of truth to justice.
There seemed to be no interstice, no crevice into which he might
insert the keen probe of his