Chapters (40)
- Cover Page
- Title Page
- Dedication
- HISTORICAL NOTE
- Part One
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- Part Two
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- Part Three
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- EPILOGUE
Though I was, at that instant, entirely unconscious of my facial expression, it must have been of a most remarkable character to have brought the frontiers-man’s soliloquy to such an abrupt halt. But however singular my aspect, it could only have been a faint representation of the exceedingly agitated sensations that were swirling within my bosom.
“What the devils the matter, Cricket?” repeated the frontiersman.
“Of course!” I exclaimed, staring down at the sheet of paper in my lap. “It is not one word but two!”
Rising swiftly from his place, Crocked: stepped behind my chair and peered over my shoulder, “Slow down, Cricket,” he said. “You’re movin’ a mite fast for me.”
“The letters above Mrs. Macready’s bed! I have been proceeding under the assumption that they formed a single word. But let us suppose that there were, in fact, two. In view of the intensely feverish circumstances under which he was undoubtedly operating, the author of the cryptic message—who, as I continue to believe, was the perpetrator of the deed and not the unfortunate victim—may easily have omitted the space between them, thus running the words together”
“I still ain’t altogether followin’ you, Cricket”
“Look!” I exclaimed. Taking my pencil, I quickly filled in the four blank spaces with the characters “W,” “X,” “P” and “T,” thus producing the following lexical formation:
NEW EXPORT
“Why, what in tarnation does it signify, Cricket? I can’t cipher it nohow.”
“New Export!”
“You mean like that building I seed this morning—the whaddayacallit?”
“Precisely! The New Export-Import Mercantile Association Building. Indeed, it was your allusion to it a moment ago that gave rise to my deduction.”
“But what in blue blazes does that buildin’ have t’do with poor ol’ Mrs. Macready?” inquired the frontiersman in a tone of deep perplexity.
“Indeed, Colonel Crocked,” I replied as the frontiersman walked back to the elbow chair and reseated himself upon it. “That—to quote the immortal Bard of Avon—is the question. As for the answer—while I am at a loss to propound a definitive reply, I can, at the very least, offer an educated surmise”
“Go ahead, Cricket. I am all ears.”