been in the small form. I see it's a capital.”
Puntsch looked astonished. “Wait, wait. Henry, does it matter?”
“It might, sir. We don't often think it does, but Mr. Halsted explained earlier in the evening that 'polish' becomes 'Polish,' changing pronunciation simply because of a capitalization.”
Puntsch said slowly, “But, you know, it is a small letter in the original. It never occurred to me to produce it that way. I always use capitals when I print. How odd.”
There was a faint smile on Henry's face. He said, “Would you write the combination with a small letter, sir.”
Puntsch, flushing slightly, wrote:
12 r 2715
Henry looked at it and said, “As long as it is a small r after all, I can ask a further question. Are there any other differences between this and the original?”
“No,” said Puntsch. Then, defensively, “No significant differences of any kind. The matter of the spacing and the capitalization hasn't changed anything, has it? Of course, the original isn't in my handwriting.”
Henry said quietly, “Is it in anyone's handwriting, sir?”
“What?”
“I mean, is the original typewritten, Dr. Puntsch?”
Dr. Puntsch's flush deepened. “Yes, now that you ask, it was typewritten. That doesn't mean anything either. If there were a typewriter here I would typewrite it for you, though, of course, it might not be the same typewriter that typed out the original.”
Henry said, “There is a typewriter in the office on this floor. Would you care to type it, Dr. Puntsch?”
“Certainly,” said Puntsch defiantly. He was back in two minutes, during which time not one word was said by anyone at the table. He presented the paper to Henry, with the typewritten series of numbers under the four lines of handwritten ones:
l2r27l5
Henry said, “Is this the way it looked now? The typewriter that did the original did not have a particularly unusual typeface?”
“No, it didn't. What I have typed looks just like the original.”
Henry passed the paper to Trumbull, who looked at it and passed it on.
Henry said, “If you open the safe, you are very likely to find nothing of importance, I suppose.”
“I suppose it too,” snapped Puntsch. “I'm almost sure of it. It will be disappointing but much better than standing here wondering.”
“In that case, sir,” said Henry, “I would like to say that Mr. Rubin spoke of private languages early in the evening.
The typewriter has a private language too. The standard typewriter uses the same symbol for the numeral one and the small form of the twelfth letter of the alphabet.
“If you had wanted to abbreviate 'left' and 'right' by the initial letters in handwriting, there would have been no problem, since neither form of the handwritten letter is confusing. If you had used a typewriter and abbreviated it in capitals it would have been clear. Using small letters, it is possible to read the combination as 12 right, 27, 15; or possibly 12, right 27, 15; or as left 2, right 27, left 5. The 1 in 12 and 15 is not the numeral 1 but the small version of the letter L and stands for left. Revsof knew what he was typing and it didn't confuse him. It could confuse others.”
Puntsch looked at the symbols openmouthed. “How did I miss that?”
Henry said, “You spoke, earlier, of insights that anyone might make, but that only one actually does. It was Mr. Gonzalo who had the key.”
“I?” said Gonzalo strenuously.
“Mr. Gonzalo wondered why there should be one letter,” said Henry, “and it seemed to me he was right. Dr. Revsof would surely indicate the directions for all, or for none. Since one letter was indubitably present, I wondered if the other two might not be also.”
4 Afterword
This appeared in the September 1974 issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine under the title “All in the Way You Read It” Again I prefer the shorter title, so I return it to my own “The Three Numbers.”
I am sometimes asked where I get my
Puntsch looked astonished. “Wait, wait. Henry, does it matter?”
“It might, sir. We don't often think it does, but Mr. Halsted explained earlier in the evening that 'polish' becomes 'Polish,' changing pronunciation simply because of a capitalization.”
Puntsch said slowly, “But, you know, it is a small letter in the original. It never occurred to me to produce it that way. I always use capitals when I print. How odd.”
There was a faint smile on Henry's face. He said, “Would you write the combination with a small letter, sir.”
Puntsch, flushing slightly, wrote:
12 r 2715
Henry looked at it and said, “As long as it is a small r after all, I can ask a further question. Are there any other differences between this and the original?”
“No,” said Puntsch. Then, defensively, “No significant differences of any kind. The matter of the spacing and the capitalization hasn't changed anything, has it? Of course, the original isn't in my handwriting.”
Henry said quietly, “Is it in anyone's handwriting, sir?”
“What?”
“I mean, is the original typewritten, Dr. Puntsch?”
Dr. Puntsch's flush deepened. “Yes, now that you ask, it was typewritten. That doesn't mean anything either. If there were a typewriter here I would typewrite it for you, though, of course, it might not be the same typewriter that typed out the original.”
Henry said, “There is a typewriter in the office on this floor. Would you care to type it, Dr. Puntsch?”
“Certainly,” said Puntsch defiantly. He was back in two minutes, during which time not one word was said by anyone at the table. He presented the paper to Henry, with the typewritten series of numbers under the four lines of handwritten ones:
l2r27l5
Henry said, “Is this the way it looked now? The typewriter that did the original did not have a particularly unusual typeface?”
“No, it didn't. What I have typed looks just like the original.”
Henry passed the paper to Trumbull, who looked at it and passed it on.
Henry said, “If you open the safe, you are very likely to find nothing of importance, I suppose.”
“I suppose it too,” snapped Puntsch. “I'm almost sure of it. It will be disappointing but much better than standing here wondering.”
“In that case, sir,” said Henry, “I would like to say that Mr. Rubin spoke of private languages early in the evening.
The typewriter has a private language too. The standard typewriter uses the same symbol for the numeral one and the small form of the twelfth letter of the alphabet.
“If you had wanted to abbreviate 'left' and 'right' by the initial letters in handwriting, there would have been no problem, since neither form of the handwritten letter is confusing. If you had used a typewriter and abbreviated it in capitals it would have been clear. Using small letters, it is possible to read the combination as 12 right, 27, 15; or possibly 12, right 27, 15; or as left 2, right 27, left 5. The 1 in 12 and 15 is not the numeral 1 but the small version of the letter L and stands for left. Revsof knew what he was typing and it didn't confuse him. It could confuse others.”
Puntsch looked at the symbols openmouthed. “How did I miss that?”
Henry said, “You spoke, earlier, of insights that anyone might make, but that only one actually does. It was Mr. Gonzalo who had the key.”
“I?” said Gonzalo strenuously.
“Mr. Gonzalo wondered why there should be one letter,” said Henry, “and it seemed to me he was right. Dr. Revsof would surely indicate the directions for all, or for none. Since one letter was indubitably present, I wondered if the other two might not be also.”
4 Afterword
This appeared in the September 1974 issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine under the title “All in the Way You Read It” Again I prefer the shorter title, so I return it to my own “The Three Numbers.”
I am sometimes asked where I get my
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