Todd coughed at this moment; the Professor heard the sound and came to the door.
"Boys," he said, "I have made a most remarkable discovery." The success of their valentine hoax was almost overwhelming to the two young Altons. They had never suspected that they were to be successful, and, in fact, their position was most embarrassing. "Come here, young gentlemen," continued the Professor. "Do you see that aged manuscript?" He stroked it with an affectionate touch. "That, my dear nephews, has been sent to me from some strange source. It is a palimpsest."
Billy looked at Todd. Had their uncle gone crazy? He shook the wrapping-paper in which the boys had rolled the valentine and looked at it. For some reason the post-mark was Constantinople, and, to all appearances, it might really have come through the mails that very day, instead of, as the case was, a dozen years before.
"Strange," said the Professor. "It came from Constantinople. Now who could have sent it?" Then he heaved a sigh. "Some dear and most beloved friend."
The boys were becoming frightened now, but Todd plucked Billy by the sleeve.
"Don't let on," he said, in a whisper. "He's an old fraud, that's what he is." They walked out into the hallway. "He can't read those words at all."
"Maybe he can," said Billy. "I wonder what it was we wrote?"
But the Professor had called them back. "Nephews," he said, "let me read you what this says."
The boys, hand in hand, came back, and the Professor, waving a finger in gesticulation, translated slowly, using all the time, the magnifying-glass. What he said sounded to the boys like what they had often heard in church.
"He's making up as he goes ahead," whispered Todd.