e 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 the secret."

Dismissing, for the time being, the mysterious document from my mind, I
set out along the lane toward Weymouth, giving my though