The Cryptogram: A Novel

by James De Mille

"Neville Pomeroy, then, was an English gentleman. I have seen much of Britishers, and have generally found that in a time of trial the English gentleman comes out uncommonly strong. I got acquainted with him in an odd kind of way. He was a young fellow, and had come out to America to hunt buffaloes. I happened to be on the Plains at the same time. I was out for a small excursion, for the office at New York was not the kind of place where a fellow of my size could be content all the time. We heard a great row--guns firing, Indians yelling, and conjectured that the savages were attacking some party or other. We dashed on for a mile or two, and came to a hollow. About fifty rascally Sioux were there. They had surrounded two or three whites, and captured them, and were preparing to strip each for the purpose of indulging in a little amusement they have--that is, building a fire on one's breast. They didn't do it that time, at any rate; and the fight that followed when we came up was the prettiest, without exception, that I ever saw. We drove them off, at any rate; and as we had revolvers, and they had only common rifles, we had it all our own way. Thirty of those Sioux devils were left behind, dead and wounded, and the rest vamosed.

"This was my first introduction to Neville Pomeroy. I cut his bonds first, and then introduced myself. He had no clothes on, but was as courteous as though he was dressed in the latest Fifth Avenue fashion. We soon understood one another. I found him as plucky as the devil, and as tough and true as steel. He seemed to like me, and we kept together on the prairies for three months--fighting, hunting, starving, stuffing, and enjoying life generally. He came with me to New York, and stopped with me. I was a broker and banker. Don't look like one, I know; but I was, and am. The American broker is a different animal from the broker of Europe. So is the American banker, one of whom you see before you.

"I won't say any thing more about our personal affairs. We became sworn friends. He went back home, and I took to the desk. Somehow we kept writing to one another. He heard of great investments in America, and got me to buy stock for him. He was rich, and soon had I a large amount of money in my hands. I got the best investments for him there were, and was glad to do any thing for a man like that.

"I'll now go on straight and tell you all that you care to hear. Some of this--in fact, most of it--I did not find out till long afterward.

"Neville Pomeroy then had a younger brother, named Pemberton Pomeroy. He was an officer in the Guards. He was very dissipated, and soon got head over heels in debt. Neville had done all that he could for his brother, and had paid off his debts three times, each time saving him from ruin. But it was no use. There was the very devil himself in Pemberton. He was by nature one of the meanest rascals that was ever created, though the fellow was not bad-looking. He got deeper and deeper into the mire, and at last got into a scrape so bad, so dirty, that he had to quit the Guards. It was a gambling affair of so infamous a character that it was impossible for his brother to save him. So he quit the Guards, and went into worse courses than ever. Neville tried still to save him; he wanted to get him an office, but Pemberton refused. Meanwhile, out of a sense of decency, he had changed his name to that of Redfield Lyttoun, and under this name he became pretty well known to a new circle of friends. Under this name he made the acquaintance of the wife of the Earl of Chetwynde. It seems that the Earl was wrapped up in politics, and had offended her by giving up a great office which he held rather than act dishonorably. She was angry, and grew desperate. Redfield Lyttoun turned up, and amused her. She compromised herself very seriously by allowing such marked attentions from him, and people began to talk about them. The Earl knew nothing at all about this, as he was busy all the day. There was a sort of quarrel between them, and all her doings were quite unknown. But Neville heard of it, and made a final attempt to save his brother. I think this time he was actuated rather by regard for the Earl, who was his most intimate friend, than by any hope of saving this wretched fool of a brother of his. At any rate, he warned him, and threatened to tell the Earl himself of all that was going on. Pemberton took alarm, and pretended that he would do as Neville said. He promised to give up Lady Chetwynde. But his brother's advice had only made him savage, and he determined to carry out this game to the end. He was desperate, reckless, and utterly unprincipled. Lady Chetwynde was silly and thoughtless. She liked the scoundrel, too, I suppose. At any rate, he induced her to run away with him. For the sake of getting funds to live on he forged some drafts. He found out that Neville had money in my hands, and drew for this. I suspected nothing, and the drafts were paid. He got the money in time to run off with his victim. Silly and foolish as Lady Chetwynde was, the moment that she had taken the inevitable step she repented. She thought that it would be impossible to retrace it, and gave herself up to despair. They fled to America under assumed names.

"Their flight was immediately known to Neville. He lost not a moment, but hurried out to America; and as the ship in which he sailed was faster than the other, he reached New York first. He came at once to me. Then he learned, for the first time, of the forgery. About one hundred thousand dollars had been drawn and paid. We took counsel together, and watched for the arrival of the steamer. Immediately on its being reported in the bay we boarded her, and Pemberton Pomeroy was arrested. He was taken to prison, and Neville induced Lady Chetwynde to come with us. I offered my house. The privacy was a most important thing. She had been freed from Pemberton's clutches, and Neville showed her that it was possible for her to escape yet from complete infamy. The suddenness of this termination to their plan startled her and horrified her. Remorse came, and then despair. All this preyed upon her mind, and with it all there came a great longing for her son, whom she had left behind. The end of it all was that she fell under an attack of brain-fever, and lingered for many months a victim to it. She finally recovered, and went into a convent. After staying there some time she suddenly left. That is the meaning of those letters which you found. Of course I kept Neville Pomeroy acquainted with these circumstances on his return.

"Meanwhile Pemberton Pomeroy had lain under arrest. Neville went to see him, and took advantage of his misery to exact from him a solemn promise never to search after Lady Chetwynde again, or interfere with her in any way. Soon after that Pemberton Pomeroy was freed, for Neville declined to appear against him, and the case dropped. Neville then went back to England.

"Pemberton Pomeroy remained. There was no more hope for him in England. The money which he had gained by his forgery lie, of course, had to refund; but his brother generously gave him a few thousands to begin life on. Pemberton then disappeared for a year or two. At the end of that time he came back. He had gone to England, and then returned to America, where he had lived out West. All his money was gone. He had fallen into low courses. He had taken a wife from the dregs of the foreign population, and, as though he had some spark of shame left, he had changed his name to Krieff. He had spent his last cent, and came to me for help. I helped him, and put him in the way of getting a living.

"But he had lived a wild life, and was completely used up. When he came to me he was pretty well gone in consumption. I saw he couldn't last long. I went to see him a good many times. He used to profess the deepest repentance. He told me once that he was writing a confession of his crimes, which he was going to send to his brother. The miserable creature had scarcely any spirit or courage left, and generally when I visited him he used to begin crying. I put up with him as well as I could, though. One day when I was with him he handed me a paper, with considerable fuss, and said I was not to open it till after his death. Not long afterward he died. I opened the paper, and found that it contained only this cipher, together with a solemn request that it should be forwarded to his brother. I wrote to Neville Pomeroy, telling him of his brother's death, and he at once came out to New York. He had him decently buried, and I gave him the papers. I had taken a copy myself, and had found a man who helped me to decipher it. There was nothing in it. The poor fool had wanted to make a confession some way, but was too mean to do it like a man, and so he made up this stuff, which was of no use to any one, and could only be deciphered by extraordinary skill. But the fellow is dead, and now you know all the business."

Obed Chute ended, and bent down his head in thought. Hilda had listened with the deepest attention, and at the conclusion of this account she, too, fell into deep thought. There were many things in it which impressed her, and some which startled her with a peculiar shock.