He and his chums tried—over and over again they picked out certain words, setting them down on separate sheets of paper, but all they got were meaningless, jumbled sentences.
“Perhaps it’s certain letters in certain words,” suggested Ned.
“Maybe,” agreed Bob. “We’ll try that way.”
But that was of little use, either, and finally, in despair, the young detective turned to Hiram, who had done little toward helping solve the riddle, and asked:
“Did Mr. Denby ever say anything to you about how you were to proceed to search for the treasure?”
“Well,” remarked Hiram slowly, “he said he’d leave me something in his will, and he left me that,” and he motioned to the box.
“Yes, I know!” exclaimed Bob, impatiently. “But did he ever tell you how to use what he left you? He knew he was going to leave the directions to you in a cipher. Now did he give you the key to it?”
“You mean this brass key?” and Hiram held up the big one that locked his strong room.
“No, I mean some sort of directions for solving this puzzle.”
The old sailor arose and went to the strong chest in the corner of the strong room. He brought back an envelope.