“What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?”
“Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret,—a secret of life and death.”
“It doesn’t concern politics?”
“If it did, I shouldn’t come to you for information,” said Jules. “No, it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely silent.”
“Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession. Don’t you know me by this time?” he said, laughing. “Discretion is my lot.”
Jules showed him the letter.
“You must read me this letter, addressed to my wife.”
“The deuce! the deuce! a bad business!” said Jacquet, examining the letter as a usurer examines a note to be negotiated. “Ha! that’s a gridiron letter! Wait a minute.”
He left Jules alone for a moment, but returned immediately.
“Easy enough to read, my friend! It is written on the gridiron plan, used by the Portuguese minister under Monsieur de Choiseul, at the time of the dismissal of the Jesuits. Here, see!”