Possibly his pretty affianced was the object of his deep revery--he
had her photograph in his desk--perhaps official cogitation as D.
C. of the E. C. D.--if you understand what I mean?--may have been
responsible for his owlish abstraction.

Because he did not notice the advent of the yellow haired girl until
she said in her soft, attractive voice:

"May I interrupt you a moment, Mr. Vaux?"

Then he glanced up.

"Surely, surely," he said. "Hum--hum!--please be seated, Miss Erith!
Hum! Surely!"

She laid the sheets of the letter and the yellow envelope upon the
desk before him and seated herself in a chair at his elbow. She was
VERY pretty. But engaged men never notice such details.

"I'm afraid we are in trouble," she remarked.

He read placidly the various memoranda written on the yellow slips
of paper, scrutinised! the cancelled stamps, postmarks,
superscription. But when his gaze fell upon the body of the letter
his complacent expression altered to one of disgust!

"What's this, Miss Erith?"

"Code-cipher, I'm afraid."