city-room haf it here."

"Ah!" said the m. e. "We're getting on the trail now. Where was it
kept, Heffelbauer? What do you know about it?"

"Somedimes," said the retainer, "dey keep it in der little room
behind der library room."

"Can you find it?" asked the m. e. eagerly. "Do you know where it is?"

"Mein Gott!" said Heffelbauer. "How long you dink a code live? Der
reborters call him a maskeet. But von day he butt mit his head der
editor, und--"

"Oh, he's talking about a goat," said Boyd. "Get out, Heffelbauer."

Again discomfited, the concerted wit and resource of the _Enterprise_
huddled around Calloway's puzzle, considering its mysterious words
in vain.

Then Vesey came in.

Vesey was the youngest reporter. He had a thirty-two-inch chest and
wore a number fourteen collar; but his bright Scotch plaid suit gave
him presence and conferred no obscurity upon his whereabouts. He
wore his hat in such a position that people followed him about to see
him take it off, convinced that it must be hung upon a peg driven
into the back of his head. He was never without an immense, knotted,
hard-wood cane with a German-silver tip on its crooked handle. Vesey
was the best photograph hustler in the office. Scott said it was