Ah, if she had but known! She had not left the house ten minutes, when
one of those street-boys, who abound at all hours of the day on the
great Square, appeared, bringing a letter to her address. They took it
to M. de Chandore, who, while waiting for dinner, was walking in the
garden with M. Folgat.

"A letter for Dionysia!" exclaimed the old gentleman, as soon as the
servant had disappeared. "Here is the answer we have been waiting for!"

He boldly tore it open. Alas! It was useless. The note within the
envelope ran thus,--

"31:9, 17, 19, 23, 25, 28, 32, 101, 102, 129, 137, 504, 515--37:2, 3, 4,
5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 13, 14, 24, 27, 52, 54, 118, 119, 120, 200, 201--41:7,
9, 17, 21, 22, 44, 45, 46"--

And so on, for two pages.

"Look at this, and try to make it out," said M. de Chandore, handing the
letter to M. Folgat.

The young man actually tried it; but, after five minutes' useless
efforts, he said,--

"I understand now why Miss Chandore promised us that we should know
the truth. M. de Boiscoran and she have formerly corresponded with each
other in cipher."

Grandpapa Chandore raised his hands to heaven.