Chapter 9. The Translation

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_ CHAPTER IX. THE TRANSLATION

Mr. G. R. Burkhill overwhelmed Ben Mayberry with thanks for the heroic manner in which he saved his niece and strove to save his sister. He offered the boy a handsome reward, but I am glad to say Ben refused to accept it. He promised to write the boy concerning the little one, but he must have forgotten his promise, as a long time passed without anything being heard from him.

When I discovered that the seedy lounger about our office had carefully taken down the cipher telegram addressed to Burkhill, I was indignant, for it was well known that one of the most important duties which the telegraph companies insist upon is the inviolability of the messages intrusted to their wires. Nothing less than a peremptory order from the court is sufficient to produce the telegrams placed in our care.

I was on the point of leaving my desk and compelling the impudent stranger to surrender the cipher he had surreptitiously secured, but I restrained myself and allowed him to go without suspecting my knowledge of his act.

"Ben," said I, addressing my young friend, whom I trusted beyond any of the older operators, "did you notice that fellow who just went out?"

"Yes, sir; I have seen him before. He followed me home last night, and after I went in the house, he walked up and down the pavement for more than half an hour. He was very careful, but I saw him through the blinds."

"Has he ever said anything to you?"

"Nothing, except in the office."

"He took down every letter of that cipher telegram you just received for Mr. Burkhill."

The boy was surprised and sat a minute in deep thought.

"Mr. Melville," he said, "if you have no objection, I shall study out that cipher."

"That I think is impossible; it has been prepared with care, and it will take a greater expert than you to unravel it."

Ben smiled in his pleasing way as he answered:

"I am fond of unraveling puzzles, and I believe I can take this apart."

"I will be surprised if you succeed; but if you do, keep it a secret from everyone but myself."

"You may depend on that."

The odd times which Ben could secure through the day were spent in studying the mysterious letters; but when he placed it in his pocket at night and started for home, he had not caught the first glimmer of its meaning.

But he was hopeful and said he would never give it up until he made it as clear as noonday, and I knew that if it was within the range of accomplishment, he would keep his word. I have told enough to show my readers he was unusually intelligent and quick-witted, but I am free to confess that I had scarcely a hope of his success.

"I've got it!"

That was the whispered exclamation with which Ben Mayberry greeted me the next morning when he entered the office.

"No! You're jesting," I answered, convinced, at the same time, that he was in earnest.

"I'll soon show you," was his exultant response.

"How was it you struck the key?"

"That is hard to tell, more than you can explain how it is, after you have puzzled your brain for a long time over an arithmetical problem, it suddenly becomes clear to you."

He sat down by my desk.

"I figured and studied, and tried those letters every way I could think of until midnight, and was on the point of going to bed, when the whole thing flashed upon me. You know, Mr. Melville, that in trying to unravel a cipher, the first thing necessary is to find the key-word, for it must be there somewhere; and if you look sharp enough it will reveal itself. One single letter gave it to me."

"How was that?"

"If you will look at the telegram," said Ben, spreading it out before me, "you will notice that in one instance only is a single letter seen standing by itself. That is the letter 'b,' which I concluded must stand for the article 'a,' for I know of no other, unless it is 'I.' Now, the letter 'b' is the second one in the alphabet, and stands next in order to 'a.' If this system is followed throughout the cipher, we have only to take, instead of the letters as written, the next in order as they occur in the alphabet. But when I tried it on the following word, it failed entirely. Luckily I tested the second in the same manner, and I was surprised to find it made a perfect word, viz.: 'chance.' The third came to naught, but the fourth developed into 'your.' That proved that every other word of the message was constructed in this manner, and it did not take me long to bring them out into good English. This was a big help, I can tell you, and it was not long before I discovered that in the alternate words the system reversed; that is, instead of taking the letter immediately succeeding, the writer had used that which immediately precedes it in the alphabet. Applying this key to the telegram, it read thus:

"'Must wait till fall; Sam has a better chance south. Your bank will keep.'"

"Now," added Ben, who was warranted in feeling jubilant over his success, "that is a very ordinary cipher--one which hundreds would make out without trouble. Had the writer run his letters all together--that is, without any break between the words--I would have been stumped. Besides, he uses no blind words, as he ought to have done; and it looks very much as if he calls everything by its right name, something which I should think no person anxious to keep such a secret would do. If he means 'bank,' he might as well have called it by another name altogether."

"I think ordinarily he would have been safe in writing his cipher as he has done; but, be that as it may, I am confident you have made a most important discovery." _

Read next: Chapter 10. Farmer Jones

Read previous: Chapter 8. The Cipher Telegram

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