"Endure," she said, looking up from her meal.
"I'm sorry?"
"I shall endure the theatre, and enjoy returning afterwards."
The professor sighed at this, and I took my leave before they started another argument. As I climbed the staircase to my study, I found myself wishing that I was the one escorting Roberta to the theatre. Touring actors had visited my home town on occasion, but I had never experienced a performance in a London theatre. But to be frank, it was not the theatre that interested me, but Roberta's company.
I reached my office and sat in my chair, and within moments I'd extracted the locked box from the lower drawer. I decided to carry it to my bedroom for closer inspection, for my window looked out on the road and I would be able to witness Roberta's departure. At that point I would enter her bedroom to secure the drawings I needed.
I placed two ledgers on top of the box and tucked the whole under the flap of my coat, disguising it as best I could. Then, praying I was not seen, I left my office and mounted the stairs as quickly as I dared.
– — Ω — –
I reached my room without incident, and I carried the box to my bed, concealing it under the counterpane. Next I moved a side-table to the window, placing it so that I would have a view of the road. Finally, I adjusted the gaslight, turning it up so that I might see better.
Preparations complete, I moved the metal case to the side-table at the window, where I sat down to give the lock a thorough inspection. There were two dozen buttons, each of which could be centered, or positioned up or down. Each could be pressed in, or left flush with the surface. And the button to the far right acted as a reset, moving the rest to their default position.
If zero represented the default state, then there were five other states the button could be made to represent: Centered and pressed-in, up and flush, up and pressed-in, and two more with the button in the lower position.
Six states per button, and twenty-four buttons? Why, the number of combinations was immense! My heart sank, for I knew it could not be guessed. Then I brightened, for I suspected it could not easily be memorised either. Surely the owner would have left themselves an aide-memoire? A diagram or drawing, perhaps disguised or concealed? Not on the case itself, for that would be obvious, but it might be elsewhere in my study.
I got up, intending to seek out the answer that instant, and then I happened to glance out of the window. What if Roberta left while I was away from my post? If so, I would not know whether she was still in the house when I attempted to obtain the diagrams from her room.
I decided to take my chances. If I left my study door open as I searched, I ought to hear the disturbance from the hallway below once this Charles fellow arrived. Forewarned, I could then return to my own room to observe their departure.
As I descended the stairs I formed a mental picture of Charles. I saw him as a pasty-faced individual with a receding chin and protruding teeth. He would have wispy sideburns and a loud, unpleasant voice, and were it not for his money Roberta would have nothing to do with him.
It took me but a moment to reach my office, where I quickly took stock of the furnishings. Aside from my desk there was the bookcase containing ledgers and paperwork, some of which did not appear to have been disturbed for years. There was also a corner stand with a number of well-thumbed books, and two paintings on the wall. One depicted two ships of the line at the Battle of Trafalgar, their guns recoiling as mighty broadsides belched fire and smoke. Most of the portholes were closed, no doubt a result of the pitched battle, and through those which remained open I could just see the fierce expressions of the sailors 'tween decks. The other painting could not have been more different, for it captured a peaceful country scene with a girl in flowing skirts watching a number of dairy cows in a field. I looked closely at both pieces of artwork, especially the frames, but there were no markings. I even lifted the paintings from the wall, turning them to inspect the rear, but they were completely unremarkable.
I picked up each book on the shelves, bending them gently against my thumb in order to flick rapidly through the pages, but observed nothing of significance. I moved several ledgers, but only succeeded in raising a cloud of dust. Slowly, I was coming to believe that the search was hopeless, and that the locked boxed was destined to remain so. If I wasn't so afraid of harming the contents, I swear I would have pitched it out of my fourth-floor window to burst it open on the ground far below.
I spent a few minutes inspecting the desk, particularly where the sides met the top, but there were no clues scratched into the woodwork. Finally, I went through the drawers, even lifting them out to check the sides, the back and the underneath.
Nothing.
Defeated, I decided my hopes of finding the code had been wildly optimistic. Perhaps the owner of the box had memorised it after all, for the combination would be no easy thing to conceal. Any representation would require three rows with two dozen markings in each, which was a substantial thing to hide from prying eyes.
At that moment I heard a commotion from the corridor below, including laughter and greetings
