“But, Miss Hypocrite,” he said, “it seems you had great secrets to
communicate to M. de Boiscoran, since you resorted to cipher, like arch
conspirators. M. Folgat and I tried to read it; but it was all Greek to
us.”
Now only the young lady remembered M. Folgat’s presence, and, blushing
deeply, she said,--
“Latterly Jacques and I had been discussing the various methods to which
people resort who wish to carry on a secret correspondence: this led
him to teach me one of the ways. Two correspondents choose any book they
like, and each takes a copy of the same edition. The writer looks in his
volume for the words he wants, and numbers them; his correspondent
finds them by the aid of these numbers. Thus, in Jacques’s letters, the
numbers followed by a colon refer to the pages, and the others to the
order in which the words come.”
“Ah, ah!” said Grandpapa Chandore, “I might have looked a long time.”
“It is a very simple method,” replied Dionysia, “very well known,
and still quite safe. How could an outsider guess what book the
correspondents have chosen? Then there are other means to mislead
indiscreet people. It may be agreed upon, for instance, that the numbers
shall never have their apparent value, or that they shall vary according
to the day of the month or the week. Thus, to-day is Monday, the second
day of the week. Well, I have to deduct one from each number of a page,
and add one to each number of a word.”
“And you will be able to make it all out?” asked M. de Chandore.
“Certainly, dear grandpapa. Ever since Jacques explained it to me, I
have tried to learn it as a matter of course. We have chose a book which
I am very fond of, Cooper’s ‘Spy;’ and we amused ourselves by writing
endless letters. Oh! it is very amusing, and it takes time, because one
does not always find the words that are needed, and then they have to be
spelled letter by letter.”
“And M. de Boiscoran has a copy of Cooper’s novels in his prison?” asked
M. Folgat.
“Yes, sir. M. Mechinet told me so. As soon as Jacques found he was to be
kept in close confinement, he asked for some of Cooper’s novels, and M.
Galpin, who is so cunning, so smart, and so suspicious, went himself and
got them for him. Jacques was counting upon me.”
“Then, dear child, go and read your letter, and solve the riddle,” said
M. de Chandore.