We tried the Crevichon, but nothing there agreed; then La Fauconnaire, but could make nothing of that either, so we had again to let the matter rest.

One day, however, it suddenly struck me that as none of the trees on the island were one hundred years old, I might have spared myself the trouble of attempting them when making my calculations and measurements.

By the way, perhaps it would be as well to state what the precise contents of my doc.u.ment were. Here is a copy:--

"This is the Will of Jean Tussaud, Master Mariner of C---- (sometimes called Barbe Rouge). To the person who is lucky enough to find my treasure house, I herewith declare him to be my heir, and whatsoever he may find shall be his, and for his sole benefit.

"My chief mate, William Trefry, a Cornish man, wished to become my heir before my death, but I could not agree with him on that point, although I left him in possession of the key of my 'pet.i.tes fees'

(little fairies). The key and a valuable knife are all I gave him.

"The bearings of my treasure house are these:--

[Ill.u.s.tration:-THE PUZZLING DOc.u.mENT-]

"The lucky one will find the following property.... (Here follows a list of many valuable articles, and winds up with), 'and lastly my pretty box of _pet.i.tes fees_.'

"I leave Jethou to-night to join my vessel, which is about to make a voyage to the West Indies, to see what business can be done there. I leave this paper, so that should I never return, the goods I have so industriously and riskily gathered together, may still be of service to someone who may have skill enough to discover their whereabouts.

Signed

"JEAN TUSSAUD (Barbe Rouge),

"Feb. 19, 17--."

Here was a puzzle to which for weeks I could obtain no clue whatever, but one day as I was sitting under the shade of the huge walnut tree overlooking the garden, the idea came into my mind that this kind of tree flourishes for generations, and from the gigantic proportions of this particular tree, it must be a great deal more than a century old.

I found Monday, and asked him how old he thought it would be, and he gave it as his opinion that it was one hundred and fifty years old, if it was a day. Then said I,

"What is the French for walnut tree?"

"Noyer," was his reply, and into my pocket went my hand to bring out the mystic doc.u.ment to see if there was an N on the chart. Joy, there was, and at sight of it my hand trembled violently, and I felt ready to choke with excitement, as I believed I had now a key to the finding of the treasure.

Monday was as excited as myself, all he could exclaim was, "Oh, la, la!

Oh, la, la!" which was with him a mark of supreme delight.

We fetched the yard measure, and commenced our survey, as I shrewdly guessed the fine old mulberry tree had something to do with the calculations; if so the distance from the mulberry tree (Murier accounting for the letter M) to the walnut tree would be twenty-four yards; so we measured, but could not make the distance correct, as we made it 26-2/3 yards, or just eight feet too much. This quite nonplussed us, and our excitement greatly abated; but we were not yet vanquished, and set our wits to work to discover the meaning of another of the letters from which we could take further measurements.

Being near N (the walnut tree) I walked round the garden wall to the point marked EC, but could there find no landmark at all from which to measure. A century ago something may have stood there, but now it was a bare spot. Here was another rebuff which seemed to upset my theory altogether, and Monday with long visage said,

"Crusoe, you are on the wrong scent, you have 'shaken hands with a shadow.'"

"Wait a bit, Monday. 'A cracked pitcher will hold _some_ water,' and although I may be wrong on some of the points, I may find at least _one_ correct one presently."

We then walked along to the corner of the wall at the angle of which was the letter P. At this point stood the well.

"What is French for '_well_', Monday."

"Puit."

"Puit?"

At this I gave a yell of delight.

"Eureka! I believe. Measure away, good comrade; measure away!"

"Where to, n.o.ble Crusoe?"

"Ah, where," said I to myself. "Well, measure off twelve yards towards the centre of the garden, and see if it cuts the line between the mulberry tree and the big walnut."

We measured to the wall and climbed over, and continued our measuring, but alas, it went beyond the bee-line between the two trees by about five feet! Wrong again!

Now I began to get angry, as I saw Monday was laughing up his sleeve at me, and I called him _Alec_ to shew him I was not in a laughing humour but thoroughly in earnest.

I walked along next inside the wall to about the point on the paper marked P, which appeared to me to be at the window of the house.

"What is window, Alec?"

"Fenetre."

That would not do.

"Now look here, Alec, you are laughing at me again, and I don't like it; laugh some other time, but for the present give me your full attention, and don't be a ninny. It is no joking matter, but one upon which I am very serious and anxious, as I believe there is something attached to this quest which is really worth a little trouble to elucidate."

"And," replied he, still smiling, "when you get to the end of your quest, I believe you will 'shake hands with a shadow' as I told you before. But, Bold Crusoe, I _will_ do my best to help you as a good comrade should, so I will bottle up my hilarious mood till you find your treasure, and then I will explode."

"Very well, Monday," I replied. "I trust soon to be able to make you have a perfect earthquake when I shew you Old Barbe Rouge's 'Pet.i.tes fees.' Fenetre will not do. Now what are we standing near that commences in French with the letter P?"

Monday looked about and quickly said,

"La porte, the door, porche, the porch; how will they do?"

"Capital! now we are surely on the right track."

So again we brought our measuring stick into play, but again the measure was not quite right, but still not far out. We made it nearly eleven yards instead of ten, and although not perfectly correct, it gave me great hope.

With but little trouble we made out the letters PM to be Porte Magasin (door of the store house), and again we were about a yard too much in the measurement. So we left it, and proceeded to the last point, the letters CC.

The point was outside the walls, and the longest distance of all--the figures twenty being written on the line. As in the other instances I asked Monday the names of all kinds of objects to locate the letters CC, but failed in this, except that I presumed C might be Chaumiere = Cottage.

Next taking our stand at the point which we supposed the centre of the diagram--the place of the skull--we measured twenty yards towards the cottage, but it fell short of the nearest point of the building by nearly six feet; therefore probably it did not refer to the cottage at all.

We a.s.sumed therefore, that a tree or some such object, to which the letters CC referred, once stood on what was now a pathway joining the cottage.

We paused in our search for the day, resolving on the morrow to try our luck by digging a deep hole in the garden at the spot which we _thought_ was the axis of the different radial measurements.

"Begum" followed us about like a district surveyor, and seemed to know something was on foot as well as himself.

Our work of fishing, shooting, and field work seemed quite in the background, and very insignificant compared with my treasure hunt; but Alec seemed to be quite indifferent to it; in fact, I think he had an idea that my fall had slightly shaken my brain, and perhaps addled it. I more than suspected this, for I noticed he kept his eye ever on me, and would scarcely let me out of his sight. Good, faithful fellow!