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Updated: May 17, 2025
Lauffer's own fair hand. "Much obliged, Mr. Vaux," cooed Cassidy, in a voice so suave that Vaux noticed its unusual blandness and asked if that particular Service already had "anything on Lauffer." "Not soon but yet!" replied Mr. Cassidy facetiously, "thanks ENTIRELY to your kind tip, Mr. Vaux." And Vaux, suspicious of such urbane pleasantries, rang off and resumed his mutilated cigar.
"Really? But how about THIS!" touching the sheets of the Lauffer letter "how are you going to read this sequence of Arabic numerals?" "I haven't the slightest idea," said the girl, candidly. "But you request the job of trying to find the key?" he suggested ironically. "There is no key. You know it." "I mean the code book." "I would like to try to find it." "How are you going to go about it?"
"What does he look like?" "A mink an otter one of those sharp-muzzled little animals! Two tiny eyes, rather close together, a long nose that wrinkles when he talks, as though he were sniffing at you; a ragged, black moustache, like the furry muzzle-bristles of some wild thing that is a sketch of Herman Lauffer." "A pretty man," commented Vaux, much amused.
The limp bodies, with matted hair, some with holes in their heads, eyes knocked out and all bespattered with blood were a ghastly spectacle. Story of The First Fugitives. The first survivors of the Johnstown wreck who arrived in the city last night were Joseph and Henry Lauffer and Lew Dalmeyer, three well known Pittsburghers.
They endured considerable hardship and had several narrow escapes with their lives. Their story of the disaster can best be told in their own language. Joe, the youngest of the Lauffer brothers, said: "My brother and I left on Thursday for Johnstown. The night we arrived there it rained continually, and on Friday morning it began to flood.
"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. "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!
The most necessary books were procured; he translated, for my use, the folio volume of Schilling, a copious and contemporary relation of the war of Burgundy; we read and marked the most interesting parts of the great chronicle of Tschudi; and by his labour, or that of an inferior assistant, large extracts were made from the History of Lauffer and the Dictionary of Lew: yet such was the distance and delay, that two years elapsed in these preparatory steps; and it was late in the third summer before I entered, with these slender materials, on the more agreeable task of composition.
He said nothing, but his thoughts concentrated upon a single unprintable word. "What have you done with the original Lauffer letter, Mr. Vaux?" she inquired rather nervously. "The usual. No invisible ink had been used; nothing microscopic. There was nothing on the letter or envelope, either, except what we saw." The girl nodded. On a large table behind her chair lay a portfolio.
Above this shop were three floors, evidently apartments. The windows were not lighted. "Lauffer lives on the fourth floor," said Miss Erith. "Will you please give me the jimmy, Vaux?" He fished it out of his overcoat pocket and looked uneasily up and down the deserted avenue while the girl stepped calmly into the open entryway.
Over the shop-window was a sign: "H. Lauffer, Frames and Gilding." The curtains of the shop-windows were lowered. No light burned inside. Over Lauffer's shop was the empty show-window of another shop on the second floor the sort of place that milliners and tea-shop keepers delight in but inside the blank show-window was pasted the sign "To Let."
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