and a dull red light. On the stove was a pot of glue, or some other
substance used by gilders and frame makers. Steam curled languidly
from it; also a smell not quite as languid.

Vaux handed her an electric torch, then flashed his own. The next
moment she found a push button and switched on the lights in the
shop. Then they extinguished their torches.

Stacks of frames in raw wood, frames in "compo," samples gilded and
in natural finish littered the untidy place. A few process
"mezzotints" hung on the walls. There was a counter on which lay
twine, shears and wrapping paper, and a copy of the most recent
telephone directory. It was the only book in sight, and Miss Erith
opened it and spread her copy of the cipher-letter beside it. Then
she began to turn the pages according to the numbers written in her
copy of the cipher letter.

Meanwhile, Vaux was prowling. There were no books in the rear room;
of this he was presently assured. He came back into the front shop
and began to rummage. A few trade catalogues rewarded him and he
solemnly laid them on the counter.

"The telephone directory is NOT the key," said Miss Erith, pushing
it aside. A few moments were sufficient to convince them that the
key did not lie within any of the trade catalogues either.

"Have you searched very carefully?" she asked.

"There's not another book in the bally shop."