Captain Harren, extremely pink, stood tugging at his short mustache and studying the papers on the desk.
"Well ?" inquired the Tracer, amused.
The young man pointed to the translation with unsteady finger.

"W-what on earth does that mean ?" he demanded shakily.

"Who is Edith Inwood?
W-what on earth does that cryptogram mean on the window pane in the photograph?
How did it come there?
It isn't on my window pane, you see!" The Tracer said quietly: "That is not a photograph of your window." "What!" "No, Captain.

Here! Look at it closely through this glass.

There are sixteen small panes in that sash; now count the panes in your window--eight! Besides, look at that curtain.