She looked around the dining-room. The doors of the yellow oak sideboard were open, but no book was there among the plated knives and forks and the cheap dishes.
Cassidy came back with the garments he had been looking for--an overcoat, coat and vest--and he carried them into the kitchenette, whither presently Vaux followed him.
Cassidy had just unlocked the handcuffs from the powerful wrists of a dark, stocky, sullen man who stood in his shirt-sleeves near a small deal table.
"Lauffer?" inquired Vaux, dryly.
"It sure is, ain't it, Herman?" replied Cassidy facetiously. "Now, then, me Dutch bucko, climb into your jeans, if YOU please--there's a good little Boche!"
Vaux gazed curiously at the spy, who returned his inspection coolly enough while he wrinkled his nose at him, and his beady eyes roamed over him.
When the prisoner had buttoned his vest and coat, Cassidy snapped on the bracelets again, whistling cheerily under his breath.
As they started to leave the kitchenette, Vaux, who brought up the rear, caught sight of a large, thick book lying on the pantry shelf. It was labelled "Perfect Cook-Book," but he picked it up, shoved it into his overcoat pocket en passant, and followed Cassidy and his prisoner into the dining-room.
Here Cassidy turned humorously to him and to Miss Erith.
"I've cleaned up the place," he remarked, "but you're welcome to stay here and rummage if you want to. I'm sending one of our men back to take possession as soon as I lock up this bird."
"All right. Good luck," nodded Vaux.
Cassidy tipped his derby to Miss Erith, bestowed a friendly grin on Vaux.
"Come along, old sport!" he said genially to Lauffer; and he walked away with his handcuffed prisoner, whistling "Garryowen."
"Wait!" motioned Vaux to Miss Erith. He went to the stairs, listened to the progress of agent and prey, heard the street-door clash, then hastened back to the lighted dining-room, pulling the "Perfect Cook-Book" from his pocket.
"I found that in the kitchenette," he remarked, laying it before her on the table. "Maybe that's the key?"
"A cook-book!" She smiled, opened it. "Why--why, it's a DICTIONARY!" she exclaimed excitedly.
"A dictionary!"
"Yes! Look! Stormonth's English Dictionary!"
"By ginger!" he said. "I believe it's the code-book! Where is your cipher letter, Miss Erith!"
The girl produced it with hands that trembled a trifle, spread it out under the light. Then she drew from her pocket a little pad and a pencil.