I was so elated at this discovery, the mental relief and exhilaration were so great that, in the exuberance of my delight, I felt constrained to acquaint my friends with my success; and rushing up on the poop with the cryptogram and its rough translation in my hand, I sat down by the open skylight, close to which Sir Edgar and Lady Emily were seated, and presenting the baronet with the documents, said—
“There, Sir Edgar, read that; and never hereafter dare to assert that there is nothing in dreams!”
“I do not remember that I have ever yet made the assertion,” he retorted laughingly. “But do you really mean to say that you have at length mastered the secret of the cipher?” as he took the paper from me, and forthwith read it aloud for the benefit of his wife and Miss Merrivale, the latter having joined us at her sister’s call.
“Well,” exclaimed Lady Emily, when her husband had finished, “it is really wonderful! quite the kind of thing that one reads of in books but does not believe, because one seldom or never meets with anything like it in real life. But so many strange things have happened during this eventful voyage of ours, that I shall never again be incredulous of anything.”
“Quite so, my dear,” agreed Sir Edgar. “Never commit yourself to the statement that you disbelieve anything. To refuse credence simply because one cannot understand, or because to our limited understanding the occurrence seems unlikely or impossible, is an infallible indication of ignorance. The wider our experience, and the deeper our knowledge, the more ready are we to admit that there may be many wonders that have never come within the limits of our ken, and about which we know nothing. But, about the key to the cryptogram, what is it? You must tell us that, you know, Saint Leger, in consideration of our own unsuccessful efforts to help you. Besides, the knowledge of such a difficult cipher as that is really worth having; who can say how soon, or under what circumstances, it might be found useful for purposes of secret communication?”
“Oh, it is ridiculously simple, when you know it,” said I. “All you have to do is to number each letter of the alphabet consecutively, beginning with A and calling it eleven. Then, with the cryptogram before you, you divide the figures into series of four, each four figures representing a letter. Subtract the first pair of figures from the second, and the remainder gives you the number of the letter as you have it in your key. For example: the first four figures in the document are 1133; that is to say, eleven and thirty-three. The difference between them is twenty-two, which, you see, represents the letter L in the key. Then take the next four figures, treating them in the same way, and so on throughout the document. One great advantage of such an arrangement appears to me to be that, however many times the same letter occurs in a document, it need never be represented twice in exactly the same way, which certainly must greatly tend to preserve the secrecy of the cipher. There are no spaces, you observe, to mark the divisions between the several words; but that offers no difficulty whatever when one possesses the key; while—to my cost I know it—it adds tremendously to the difficulty when one does not. Then, again, the figures of the latitude and longitude are given just as they would be in an ordinary document, which brought me completely to a standstill for a little while, until I happily guessed at the explanation; but after passing these stumbling-blocks, the rest was perfectly plain sailing.”
“Quite so,” acquiesced Sir Edgar. “It is simple enough when it has been explained; but a sufficiently ingenious thing for all that, in proof of which we have the fact that it has completely puzzled us all for months; and I really believe, Saint Leger, that, but for your wonderful dream, it would have continued to puzzle you to the end of time. I congratulate you heartily upon your good fortune.”
“And I;” “And I,” simultaneously exclaimed Lady Emily and her sister.
“And now,” continued the baronet, “what are your plans with regard to the matter? Will you still go on to Sydney, and discharge your cargo before attempting to secure your treasure, or will you make a détour, and prosecute your search for it forthwith?”
“Oh, of course I must fulfil my present obligations before I attempt to do anything toward recovering the treasure,” said I. “When I have done that—when I have safely landed you all on the wharf at Sydney, and have discharged my cargo, I shall well ballast the ship and clear for the Pacific in search of a cargo of sandal-wood. I shall of course make it my first business to secure the treasure; but, in order to keep up appearances, I shall also collect what sandal-wood I can find without very much trouble, and proceed with it to China, from whence I shall take home a cargo of tea, if I can secure one.”