"And did you find any thing?" said Gualtier, eagerly.
"I did."
"Papers?"
"Yes. The old cipher writing was there--shut up--concealed carefully, jealously--doubly concealed, in fact. Was not this enough to show that it had importance in the eyes of the man who had thus concealed it? It must be so. Nothing but a belief in its immense importance could possibly have led to such extraordinary pains in the concealment of it. This I felt, and this conviction only intensified my desire to get at the bottom of the mystery which it incloses. And this much I saw plainly--that the deciphering which I have made carries in itself so dread a confession, that the man who made it would willingly conceal it both in cipher writing and in secret drawers."
[Illustration: The Old Cipher Writing Was There.]
"But of course," said Gualtier, taking advantage of a pause, "you found something else besides the cipher. With that you were already familiar."
"Yes, and it is this that I am going to tell you about. There were some papers which had evidently been there for a long time, kept there in the same place with the cipher writing. When I first found them I merely looked hastily over them, and then folded them all up together, and took them away so as to examine them in my own room at leisure. On looking over them I found the names which I expected occurring frequently. There was the name of O. N. Pomeroy and the name of Lady Chetwynde. In addition to these there was another name, and a very singular one. The name is Obed Chute, and seems to me to be an American name. At any rate the owner of it lived in America."
"Obed Chute," repeated Gualtier, with the air of one who is trying to fasten something on his memory.
"Yes; and he seems to have lived in New York."