berry, although that does not appear to be the fault
of whoever attacked him," was the rejoinder.

"He was attacked, then, for purposes of robbery, do you think?"

"I suspect so."

"Oh, dear, this has so upset me that I shan't sleep the rest of the
night," protested the little man, and withdrew into his stateroom.

The next day, naturally, the whole ship buzzed with the news of the
night's happenings, and speculation ran rife as to who could have
attacked the diamond merchant, who had recovered consciousness and was
able to talk. He himself had not the slightest idea of his assailant. He
had sat up till late in the smoking saloon, he said, and was coming
along the corridor to his stateroom when he was struck down from behind.
A black leather wallet, containing three diamonds, which were destined
to be sold to the scion of a European royal house, was missing from his
pocket, and the loss nearly drove the unfortunate diamond man frantic.
He valued the stones at $150,000, so that perhaps his frenzy at losing
them was not unnatural.

In the afternoon, Professor Dusenberry, dressed in a frock coat and top
hat, although he was at sea and the weather was warm, came into the
wireless room. He wanted to send a message, he said, a wireless to
London. He was very cautious about inquiring the price and all the
details before he sat down to write out his dispatch. When it was
completed he handed it to Jack with his thin fingers, and asked that it
be dispatched at once. Then he retreated, or rather faded, from the
wireless room. Jack scanned the message with thoughtful eyes. It seemed
an odd radiogram for a college professor, such as he had heard Prof.
Dusenberry was, to be sending. It read as follows:

"Meet me at three on the granite paving-stones. The weather is
fine, but got no specimens. There is no suspicion as you have
directed, but I'm afraid wrong."

F.

"Well, that's a fine muddle for somebody to make out when they get it,"
mused Jack, as he sent out a call for the Fowey Station.

"Must be some sort of a cipher the old fellow is using. He's a dry sort
of old stick. Goodness! How scared he was when he saw that man lying
outside his door. I thought he was going to faint or something."

"Wonder what sort of a cipher that is," mused Jack, as he waited for an
answer to his call. "Looks to me as if it's one of those numerical
ciphers where every second or third or fourth or fifth word is taken
from