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The young doctor had left his friends on board the jangada at work on the indecipherable document, and had come to see Judge Jarriquez. He was anxious to know if he had been fortunate in his researches. He had come to ask if he had at length discovered the system on which the cryptogram had been written. The magistrate was not sorry to see Manoel come in.
"Greatly prospering." "How long ago did you leave your fazenda?" "About nine weeks." "Why?" "The responsibility of taking into Para a large raft, and a cargo of different products of the Amazon." "Ah! and what was the real motive of your departure?" And in asking this question Jarriquez said to himself: "Now we shall get into denials and falsehoods."
"This man, whom I received with hospitality, only came to me to propose that I should purchase his silence to offer me an odious bargain that I shall never regret having refused, whatever may be the consequences of his denunciation!" "Always this method!" thought Judge Jarriquez; "accusing others to clear himself."
"But, sir," asked Manoel, who felt the little hope vanishing on which he had hitherto rested, "what do you mean by a cipher?" "Tell me a number." "Any number you like." "Give me an example and you will understand the explanation better." Judge Jarriquez sat down at the table, took up a sheet of paper and a pencil, and said: "Now, Mr.
Manoel, let us choose a sentence by chance, the first that comes; for instance: Judge Jarriquez has an ingenious mind. I write this phrase so as to space the letters different and I get: Judgejarriquezhasaningeniousmind.
It was from this apartment that Joam Dacosta, on this 25th of August, about eleven o'clock in the morning, was taken and brought into the judge's room, which was the old common hall of the convent. Judge Jarriquez was there in front of his desk, perched on his high chair, his back turned toward the window, so that his face was in shadow while that of the accused remained in full daylight.
IT WAS SEVEN o'clock in the evening. Judge Jarriquez had all the time been absorbed in working at the puzzle and was no further advanced and had forgotten the time of repast and the time of repose, when there came a knock at his study door. It was time.
His clerk, with the indifference which characterizes these legal folks, had taken his seat at the end of the table, his pen behind his ear, ready to record the questions and answers. Joam Dacosta was introduced into the room, and at a sign from the judge the guards who had brought him withdrew. Judge Jarriquez looked at the accused for some time.
"If the real culprit is dead, sir," replied Dacosta, "Torres at least is living, and the proof, written throughout in the handwriting of the author of the crime, he has assured me is in his hands! He offered to sell it to me!" "Eh! Joam Dacosta!" answered Judge Jarriquez, "that would not have been dear at the cost of the whole of your fortune!"
He was in that state of excitement that solitude was exasperating to him. He wanted some one to speak to, some one as anxious to penetrate the mystery as he was. Manoel was just the man. "Sir," said Manoel as he entered, "one question! Have you succeeded better than we have?" "Sit down first," exclaimed Judge Jarriquez, who got up and began to pace the room. "Sit down.
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