THE THIRD TELEGRAM
When the father of Rutherford Richmond's friend, at whose house the young
Bostonian was visiting, learned the facts, he was indignant beyond
description. He declared that Ben Mayberry had served the young
scapegraces right, except he ought to have punished both more severely,
which was rather severe, as was shown by the blackened eyes and bruised
faces.
Ben declined to push the matter on the morrow, as the boys had been
punished, and he had proved he was able to take care of himself, as
against them, at any time. But the gentleman insisted that he would not
permit the matter to drop, unless his son and Rutherford agreed to go to
the telegraph office and beg the pardon of the boy whom he learned they
had insulted under Mr. Grandin's roof. Rutherford and his friend
consented, and they humiliated themselves to that extent. The succeeding
day Rutherford went home to Boston, and did not reappear in Damietta
until long afterward, when he hoped the disgraceful episode was
forgotten.
On the following week Dolly Willard returned to New York, and Ben, for
the first time in his life, began to feel as though his native city had
lost a good deal of the sunshine to which it was entitled.
"She will visit Damietta again," he said to himself, with just the
faintest sigh, "and she promised to write me; I hope she won't forget her
promise."
And, indeed, the sprightly little miss did not lose sight of her pledge.
It may be suspected that she took as much pleasure in expressing on paper
her warm friendship for Ben, as he did in reading the pure, honest
sentiments, and in answering her missives, which he did with great
promptness.
It was just one week after the memorable night of the party, while I was
sitting at my desk, that the following cipher dispatch came over the
wires, addressed to G. R. Burkhill, Moorestown:
"Fwfszuijoh hr pl nm ujnf Sgtqdezw bu bnqmdq. Tom."
I passed the message to Ben, whose eyes sparkled as he took it in hand.
It required but a few minutes for him to translate it by the method which
has already been made known, and the following rather startling words
came to light:
"Everything is O. K. On time Thursday at corner."
This unquestionably referred to the same unlawful project outlined in the
former dispatches. Mr. Burkhill had not been in the office for months. As
yet, of the three telegrams sent him, he had not received one. The first
was lost in the river, the second had been on file more than half a year,
and we now had the third.
But the latter did not lie uncalled for even for an hour. Remembering the
instruction received from the manager, I took a copy of the message, with
the translation written out by Ben, to the office of the mayor, where I
laid the facts before him. This was on Wednesday, and the contemplated
robbery was fixed for the following night. By his direction I sent a
dispatch at once to the address of the detective in New York, who, it had
been arranged, was to look after the matter.
The reply to this message was the rather surprising information that
Detective Maxx had been in Damietta several days, and knew of the
contemplated robbery. He was shadowing the suspected party, and if he
deemed it necessary, he would call on the mayor for assistance.
While I was absent from the office, who should walk in but Mr. G. R.
Burkhill. He greeted Ben with much effusion, shaking him warmly by the
hand, inquiring how he got along, and telling him that his niece sent her
special regards to him.
"I have been on a trip to New Orleans," he added, "or I would have been
down in Damietta sooner, for I like the place."
"The summer isn't generally considered a good time to go so far south,"
ventured Ben.
"That is true, as relates to Northerners, but I was born in the Crescent
City, and have no fear of Yellow Jack; fact is, I have had the confounded
disease myself. By the way, have you a message for me?"
"We have two, in fact I may say three, for the copy of the first one that
went down the river with me has never been handed you, and one came a day
or two after you left."
"I know what they are, so you needn't mind about them. I will take the
last, if you please."
"It arrived within the last half hour," explained Ben, as he handed the
damp sheet to him.
The boy watched his countenance while Burkhill was reading it. It took
several minutes for him to study out its meaning, but he did so without
the aid of pencil or paper. A strange glitter came into his gray eyes as
the meaning broke upon him, and he muttered something to himself which
the lad did not quite catch.
Then he turned to the desk, and was engaged only a minute or two when he
handed a return message to Ben, paying for it as the man had done who
forwarded the other to him. It was this:
"Uibu rthsr fybdumz Vhkk cf qdzex.
"G. R. Burkhill."
Applying his rule (which compelled him to go to the end of the alphabet,
when, for instance, the letter "a" demanded to be represented by a
preceding letter), Ben Mayberry very readily translated the cipher as
follows:
"That suits exactly. Will be ready.
"G. R. Burkhill."