had taken them, locked the desk, and then turned my attention to the sea-chest.

Here I was equally unfortunate; for, though in the bottom of the chest I actually found the identical log-book relating to the cruise during which Richard Saint Leger was supposed to have acquired his knowledge of the hidden treasure, and though I found duly entered therein the usual brief, pithy, log-book entries of both actions with the Spanish ships, not a word was there which even remotely hinted at the existence of the treasure, or any record relating to it. And—not to spin out this portion of my yarn to an unnecessary length—I may as well say, in so many words, that when I had worked my way steadily through every relic left to us of Richard Saint Leger, until nothing remained to be examined but his hanger and belt, I found myself as destitute of any scrap of the information I sought as I had been at the commencement of the search.

It was not in the least likely that any one would select such an unsuitable place as the sheath of a cutlass in which to conceal an important document; still, that I might never in the future have reason to reproach myself with having passed over even the most unlikely hiding-place, I took down the weapon from the peg on which it hung, and with some difficulty drew the blade from its leather sheath.

There was nothing at all extraordinary about the weapon or its mountings; blade and hilt were alike perfectly plain; but what a story that piece of steel could have told, had it been gifted with the power of speech. It was notched and dinted from guard to point, every notch and every dint bearing eloquent evidence of stirring adventure and doughty deeds of valour. But I was not there on that occasion to dream over a notched and rusty cutlass; I therefore laid the weapon aside, and, with the belt across my knees, proceeded to carefully explore the interior of the sheath with the aid of a long wire. And it was while thus engaged that my eye fell upon a portion of the stitching in the belt that had the appearance of being newer than—or perhaps it would be more correct to say of different workmanship from the rest. The belt, I ought to explain, was a leather band nearly four inches wide, the fastening being an ordinary plain, square, brass buckle. The belt was made of two thicknesses of leather stitched together all along the top and bottom edge; and it was a portion of this stitching along the top edge that struck me as differing somewhat in appearance from the rest.

That I might the better inspect the stitching, I moved toward the window with the belt in my hand; and, as I did so, I ran the thick leather through my fingers. Surely the belt felt a shade thicker in that part than anywhere else! And was it only my fancy, or did I detect a faint sound as of the crackling of paper when I bent the belt at that spot in the act of raising it to the light? Was it possible that Richard Saint Leger had actually chosen so unlikely a spot as the interior of his sword-belt in which to hide the important document? And yet, after all, why unlikely? It would be as safe a place of concealment as any; for he doubtless wore the belt, if not the hanger, habitually; and therefore, by sewing the document up inside it, he would be sure of always having it upon his person, with scarcely a possibility of losing it.

Determined to solve the question forthwith, I whipped out my knife and carefully cut through the suspicious-looking stitches, thus separating the two thicknesses of leather along their upper edges for a length of about six inches; then, forcing the two edges apart, I peered into the pocket-like recess; and there, sure enough, was a small, compactly folded paper, which I at once withdrew and carefully unfolded. The result was the disclosure of the following incomprehensible document:—

“11331829 14443401 64519411 74217411 93613918 21541829 154123 49274519 44384914 27163426 41152923 39154319 44214414 44153317 32 24535184 19492442 17321635 24531739 15261943 24381526 29594354 29 43163543 72164627 38537766 79193423 48132915 19412338 18294865 62 93415619 48233516 31233415 43265524 54193743 58274253 87273819 32 43731941 57761738 43581741 19341645 19484368 27435989 28467691 27 43152644 57284327 52193563 74163951 62184227 43699143 68273844 74 58776387 19361641 18424777 19372041 56894566 15452641 19471526 62 91436226 56689115 34425924 42245417 29264163 93284652 831948

“17465383 17322944 17455369 64892351 44742947 16314462 234854 76133526 51235619 31274218 48558817 32294419 43295216 41154619 49 23414354 19431529 24372543 67865983 27385579 23371449 37521342 65 83445515 37497176 92163553 77193323 34164453 72195117 32164418 51 43611635 24375169 25371641 72844458 52741954 26411842 55852439 16 44152623 47193316 45334428 47557716 47537972 91558518 29849842 61 17461545 21321741 15284459 16412642 15451331 53811429 27422743 18 49164419 41436817 41264338 67154528 53164629 47425718 31295743 58 39547697 39645377 16462843 17323867 17472738 57855769 18437485 29 57193329 47349153 97791438 91728386 73564163 53761619 114301848 53711934 26395785 51666378 17382334 45693751 29511829 15392539 35 49153959 92139445 91635467 53355142 51135213 51747294 722371747 19471227 16271847 16471947 12274567 38570277 38671327 26571328 19 48335827 58588814 32163244 72174239 62629224 42112634 46656617 46 31407196 15313161 23417691 36614961 16311941 12311241 41622452 37 62294221 42.”

This I studied for a few minutes, in complete bewilderment, and then carried it downstairs to my mother, who had been called away upon some household matter some time before.

“See here, mother!” I exclaimed. “I have found something; but whether or no it happens to be the long-missing secret of the hidden treasure it is quite impossible for me to determine. If it is, there is every prospect of its remaining a secret, so far as I am concerned, for I can make neither head nor tail of it.”

“Let me look at it, my son. Where did you find it?” she exclaimed, stretching out her hand for the paper.

“It was sewn up in Richard Saint Leger’s sword-belt, from which I have just cut it,” I replied. “So, whether or not it will be the secret of the treasure, I think we may safely take it for granted that it is a document of more than ordinary value, or Dick Saint Leger would never have taken the trouble to conceal it so carefully.”

“Yes,” remarked my mother, “there can be no doubt as to its contents being of very considerable importance. It is a cryptogram, you see, and people do not usually take the trouble to write in cipher unless the matter is of such a nature as to render a written record very highly desirable, whilst it is also equally desirable that it should be preserved a secret from all but the parties who possess the key. It is certainly a most unintelligible-looking affair; but I have no doubt that, with a little study, we shall be able to puzzle out the meaning. As a girl I used to be rather good at solving puzzles.”

“So much the better,” I remarked; “for to me it presents a most utterly hopeless appearance. The only thing I can understand about it is the sketch, which, while it bears the most extraordinary resemblance to the profile of a man’s face, is undoubtedly intended to represent an island. And that, to my mind, is a point in favour of its being the long-sought document. And now,” I continued, “if you feel disposed to take a spell at it and see what you can make of it, I think I will walk into the town and attend to one or two little matters of business. Perhaps you will have the whole thing cut and dried by the time that I return.”

My mother laughed.

“I am afraid you are altogether too sanguine, my dear Jack,” she replied; “this is no ordinary, commonplace cipher, I feel certain. But run along, my dear boy, the walk will do you good; and while you are gone I will sit down quietly and do my best to plumb