"Bobby, I have an idea."

"Last time you came up to me and said that, Charley, you walked us right in front of a blue-belly with a Gatling. Nearly killed us. You remember that? You remember what I told you ... 'No more goddamned ideas...'? You recollect that?"

"Robert E. Leej, shout your mouth for a second! This is important. Look here at this part, down here in the corner -- those numbers.
1, 5, 2, in a row, and then 6, 3, 7 and then 4.5, 1.5, 5.5.

You know what that is?"

"If I knew, goddamit, do you think I'd be squatting over this table staring at 'em?"

"Hey! You remember on your way into this place from the west side, there's a big circular statue garden, right? Those modern things?"

"What the hell, Charley?! You gone off the deep end here?"

"You remember what they call that? With those big tuning fork statues like things around the edge?"

"Some damn stupid name, I guess. I ain't too interested in sculpture right now, Charley."

"No, Bobbie. This is the clue we've been looking for! That walk around the sculptures place and this code here have something in common!"

"What would that be, Mister Pinkerton?"

"Think, man!! They call that garden with the weird statues in it the Circle of Fifths".

Charley watched Robert E. Leej's jaw drop, something he rarely got to see.

In a single instant, the two men were on their feet, checking their derringers, and striding back out onto the quartdeck and down the gangplank.