Two days later, The Royal Constabulary
"D-Director!"
A middle-aged man seated comfortably on his plush but rather neglected armchair, turned around in his chair to see what the intrusion was. Although he was barely fifty, his greying hair, droopy eyes, and slow movement made him look a lot older than he really was. He stared at the man, who was wheezing from sprinting up two floors, shut his eyes wearily and asked, "What is it?"
"We've intercepted a letter, sir. It came from the flat you gave us orders to watch over."
He pulled out a crumpled letter from the brown envelope he was holding and handed it over to his superior, who took it and examined it carefully.
"Interesting…" he murmured, turning the paper around in his hands. "This letter is obviously coded… The dots and lines have a pattern. I must admit; I've never seen this code used before… Did you say it was delivered to the flat or being delivered from it?"
"Delivered to it, sir."
"I see… This cluster of dots has been used ten times in this short letter; it must be a common word, then. An individual dash? Either an 'a' or 'I'. If that's so. Then this word might be 'it'."
He continued staring at the paper, as if in a trance. Nearly falling asleep, the messenger was about to ask for permission to leave, when his superior said in a low voice, "Stay."
Bringing the paper so close to his face that his hooked nose almost touched it, the director scanned through it, his eyes moving faster the more he read. Slowly, his face lost colour, and as he finished scanning through the entire letter, which he had also decoded during those few minutes, he became as white as a sheet. He hurriedly pulled open his drawer, drew out another piece of paper and an envelope, and scribbled a letter to Avarice Crowne, before giving it to the officer standing in front of his table.
"Deliver this directly to Mr Crowne; if anyone stops or hinders you, tell them this letter is a message from the director of the Constabulary. Understand?"
"Yessir!"
Watching the young policeman run off into the distance, the director asked himself how this could have happened. A lone sunbeam shone into the messy office, highlighting a name on a certificate pinned to the wall: Mr Grock. This man was a living machine, adapted to be able to solve the most difficult problems and keep the people in control. From his youth, he showed a natural aptitude for solving puzzles and codes; this skill was only matched by his loyalty to the head of the country, Avarice Crowne.
After a single encounter, he was hired by Crowne to be the director of the Royal Constabulary, and, although unknown to the public, the head of the Enforcers, granting him almost equal power over the entire country. From hunting down and arresting rebels to exterminating the country's most vile criminal organisations, Mr Grock was the final opponent to all those that dared to resist the government.
Checking the coded letter again, he reread it, trying to get a grasp of any details he might have missed. Exposure of him, Crowne, and all of the Custodians was laid bare on the paper; every little fact, every name, and every detail was mentioned, as well as a full explanation. It was the perfect weapon to overthrow the oppressive government's rule over the country, something that Grock would be helpless to defend against.
"Whoever wrote this," thought Grock, "was well connected to the government, since none of these facts have ever left the House of the Custodians. The sender is William Sigerson. I'll have a team to check on the location of the post office this came from…"
He flipped through a drawer filled with files and stopped at S. Sigerson…. The name was familiar… There it was. A dusty folder was taken out, and the papers it contained captured the attention of his eyes. Mr Grock stared at it, half of his brain reading and the other half thinking. If Sigerson sent the letter intending to hand over this lethal weapon over to the rebels, he must have a strong reason to do so…
Could it be that they were collaborating together? He shook his head impatiently, trying to clear his mind. Even though the handwriting matched Sigerson's exactly, Grock decided to wait, gather more information, and ask for Crowne's response before acting. Immediately, he placed everything back as it was minutes ago; a team of police were summoned and dispatched to investigate the letter's origin. All that was left to do now was wait for the results.
—
After an entire day of waiting, while Grock, still sitting where he had been hours ago, was smoking with his pipe profusely, thinking furiously about the plethora of crimes committed during the past month, messengers returned to him, informing him of all the pieces of the puzzle he was missing. The letter had been traced back to Eden. Sigerson was indeed staying in Eden, which was all that Grock needed to know. Additionally, further news reached him that Sigerson was staying at the inn and had only left recently, leaving all his possessions behind. If he did want to leave now, the latest he could would be eleven at night, since all transportation services were closed until the next day.
"He could also have a companion with him, since he booked a room with two beds…" considered Grock. "Right now, he would be on the run after sending that letter, so it only makes sense that he uses his resources sparingly… But at the same time, he could be using this as a trick to deceive us into thinking he's travelling with another person… The trunk he's left behind still has everything he needs and the Enforcers have notified me that a candle had only been recently lit in the room, meaning that he had left the room only minutes before… I'll prepare the Enforcers to arrest him when he tries to leave later…"
Grock stood up, his entire body and mind ready and devoted to catching the detective. Crowne had given him the order, so with his face resolute and set in stone, he marched out of his office, laying his plans down and organising the teams to capture the fugitive.