This was in 1826.
And so proceeding as above, he obtained.
1826 1826 1826 _phyj slyd dqfd_
and that gave
_o.vd rdv. cid._
the same meaningless series, the same absence of sense, as many letters wanting as in the former instance, and for the same reason.
"Bother the number!" exclaimed the magistrate. "We must give it up again. Let us have another one! Perhaps the rascal chose the number of contos representing the amount of the booty!"
Now the value of the stolen diamonds was estimated at eight hundred and thirty-four contos, or about 2,500,000 francs, and so the formula became
834 834 834 834 _phy jsl ydd qfd_
and this gave a result as little gratifying as the others----
_het bph pa. ic._
"Confound the document and him who imagined it!" shouted Jarriquez, throwing down the paper, which was wafted to the other side of the room. "It would try the patience of a saint!"
But the short burst of anger passed away, and the magistrate, who had no idea of being beaten, picked up the paper. What he had done with the first letters of the different paragraphs he did with the last--and to no purpose. Then he tried everything his excited imagination could suggest.
He tried in succession the numbers which represented Dacosta's age, which would have been known to the author of the crime, the date of his arrest, the date of the sentence at the Villa Rica assizes, the date fixed for the execution, etc., etc., even the number of victims at the affray at Tijuco!
Nothing! All the time nothing!
Judge Jarriquez had worked himself into such a state of exasperation that there really was some fear that his mental faculties would lose their balance. He jumped about, and twisted about, and wrestled about as if he really had got hold of his enemy's body. Then suddenly he cried, "Now for chance! Heaven help me now, logic is powerless!"
His hand seized a bell-pull hanging near his table. The bell rang furiously, and the magistrate strode up to the door, which he opened. "Bobo!" he shouted.
A moment or two elapsed.
Bobo was a freed negro, who was the privileged servant of Jarriquez. He did not appear; it was evident that Bobo was afraid to come into his master's room.
Another ring at the bell; another call to Bobo, who, for his own safety, pretended to be deaf on this occasion. And now a third ring at the bell, which unhitched the crank and broke the cord.
This time Bobo came up. "What is it, sir?" asked Bobo, prudently waiting on the threshold.
"Advance, without uttering a single word!" replied the judge, whose flaming eyes made the negro quake again.
"Bobo," said Jarriquez, "attend to what I say, and answer immediately; do not even take time to think, or I----"
Bobo, with fixed eyes and open mouth, brought his feet together like a soldier and stood at attention.
"Are you ready?" asked his master.
"Now, then, tell me, without a moment's thought--you understand--the first number than comes into your head."
"76223," answered Bobo, all in a breath. Bobo thought he would please his master by giving him a pretty large one!
Judge Jarriquez had run to the table, and, pencil in hand, had made out a formula with the number given by Bobo, and which Bobo had in this way only given him at a venture.
It is obvious that it was most unlikely that a number such as 76223 was the key of the document, and it produced no other result than to bring to the lips of Jarriquez such a vigorous ejaculation that Bobo disappeared like a shot!
THE LAST EFFORTS
THE MAGISTRATE, however, was not the only one who passed his time unprofitably. Benito, Manoel, and Minha tried all they could together to extract the secret from the document on which depended their father's life and honor. On his part, Fragoso, aided by Lina, could not remain quiet, but all their ingenuity had failed, and the number still escaped them.