' Otherwise, it's ordinary enough."
"It must be vanity that keeps you from eyeglasses, Bert," Average
Jones observed with a sigh. "Well, I'm afraid I set you on the
wrong track, myself!"
Bertram lifted an eyebrow with an effort. "Meaning, I suppose, that
you're on the tight and have solved the cipher."
"Cipher be jiggered. You were right in your opening remark. There isn't
any cipher. If you read Mr. Robinson's note correctly, and if you'd
had the advantage of working on the original of the advertisement as
I have, you'd undoubtedly have noticed at once--"
"Thank you," murmured Bertram.
"--that fully one-third of the pin-pricks don't touch any letters at
all."
"Then we should have taken the letters which lie between the holes?"
"No. The letters don't count. It's the punctures. Force your eyes
to consider those alone, and you will see that the holes themselves
form letters and words. Read through it carefully, as Robins
directed."
He held the paper up to the light. Bertram made out in straggling
characters, formed in skeleton the perforations, this legend:
ALL POINTS TO YOU
TAKE THE SHORT CUT
DEATH IS EASIER THAN
SOME THINGS.
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