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Chapter 9
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“Theymayhavegonetonight,”someonesaid.
“Notthey.Theyhavetheirownsnugsecretway,andtheywon’tbehurried.IknowGermans,andtheyaremadaboutworkingtoaplan.WherethedevilcanIgetabookofTideTables?”
Whittakerbrightenedup.“It’sachance,”hesaid.“Let’sgoovertotheAdmiralty.”
Wegotintotwoofthewaitingmotor-cars—allbutSirWalter,whowentofftoScotlandYard—to“mobilizeMacGillivray”,sohesaid.
Wemarchedthroughemptycorridorsandbigbarechamberswherethecharwomenwerebusy,tillwereachedalittleroomlinedwithbooksandmaps.Aresidentclerkwasunearthed,whopresentlyfetchedfromthelibrarytheAdmiraltyTideTables.Isatatthedeskandtheothersstoodround,forsomehoworotherIhadgotchargeofthisexpedition.
Itwasnogood.Therewerehundredsofentries,andsofarasIcouldsee10.17mightcoverfiftyplaces.Wehadtofindsomewayofnarrowingthepossibilities.
Itookmyheadinmyhandsandthought.Theremustbesomewayofreadingthisriddle.WhatdidScuddermeanbysteps?Ithoughtofdocksteps,butifhehadmeantthatIdidn’tthinkhewouldhavementionedthenumber.Itmustbesomeplacewheretherewereseveralstaircases,andonemarkedoutfromtheothersbyhavingthirty-ninesteps.
ThenIhadasuddenthought,andhuntedupallthesteamersailings.TherewasnoboatwhichleftfortheContinentat10.17p.m.
