Reply Paid by H. F. Heard

stumble on it. Yes, we are tracking a ‘verra careful mon’ as his cautious compatriots would say. Indeed, had I not combined, with a taste for what you call ill-taste furniture (and a knowledge of its craftsmanship), a good memory for my Thucydides and some of the out-of-the-way information which classical studies give—well, we’d never be where we are now.”
    This self-congratulation, all the more because it was true and couldn’t really be answered, vexed me further; and when with that badly timed raillery Mr. Mycroft added, “Now all you have to do is to read what I have put in your hand,” I became angrily nervous. I must try, though nervous anger is, of course, the worst of moods in which to try and summon your hunch to start you on a line.
    â€œWell,” I said, “the first part runs, ‘At twenty minutes to three o’clock in the afternoon,’ or we can say, if we like, ‘At two-forty P.M. ’” Then I paused.
    â€œYes?” said Mr. Mycroft. “Yes, we are agreed about that. And now for the rest.”
    It was maddeningly like an old schoolmaster taunting a boy who hasn’t had time to prepare his translation.
    I read on, “Cloc Friar’s Heel. AP. 20111318—3.” That was all. “Short inscriptions are the mischief,” I said.
    â€œYet even the Etruscan and Hattitic yielded results,” he answered—showing off his learning in order to be able to provoke me more.
    â€œWell, I’ve done work on the Roger Bacon clues,” I retorted.
    â€œI doubt if they repay study,” was his gratuitous answer. I felt he was trying to show that I was no use. I made a last effort.
    â€œCloc,” I said. “Well, obviously that has to do with the time-reference which I’ve already decoded. He left out the k to save space. ‘Friar’s Heel,’ yes, that’s a reference to the old mission trails. You know the Franciscans opened up much of this desert Southwest.”
    I looked up. I was doing far better than I had hoped. My hunch was working. The old fellow who thought he knew everything, would have to admit I could be of use, and on my own, without any wise-woman to help or start my native skill. I looked up, but there was no encouragement on his cold old face. Didn’t he know how much a gift such as mine depended on the spark not being quenched! He was jealous, that was it. But just to know that didn’t help.
    I stumbled on: “AP. 20111318 less 3, these of course are bearings. I suggest, just as a line for further research, AP stands for Latin Apud , ‘near,’ or ‘approximately,’ or even, broadly speaking, ‘at.’ Then some measurements which a little figuring could work out: the total sum or direction to be corrected by three.”
    I stopped. I knew I was getting out of my depth. But, hang it all, I had a line and the silly old fool, the jealous old dominie, was just determined I shouldn’t score and take from him any of the praise. Pope’s bitter but just line flashed into my head: “Bear like the Turk no brother near the throne.” Here, as always, was old crusted authority crushing out young promise.
    I struggled with my temper and managed to say, “If, Mr. Mycroft, you will give attention to the suggestions I have been able to make, I feel sure I have been able to provide you with some further information which is pertinent to our search.”
    â€œCodes of this sort,” was his indifferent reply, “don’t have spare words in them; if they do, terminal letters are not omitted to save space. ‘Friar’s Heel’ is not uningenious, I own, just here, but not in its wider context. As for the letter-number references, I own I’m still quite at a loss as to the important ending—minus 3 is especially obscure. But taking into consideration what I have found out already about our man (and codes and men fit like