The Runic Writing Exercises the Professor
“Undoubtedly it is Runic,” said the Professor, bending his brows; “but there is a secret in it, and I mean to discover the key.”
A violent gesture finished the sentence.
“Sit there,” he added, holding out his fist towards the table. “Sit there, and write.”
I was seated in a trice.
“Now I will dictate to you every letter of our alphabet which corresponds with each of these Icelandic characters. We will see what that will give us. But, by St. Michael, if you should dare to deceive me—”
The dictation commenced. I did my best. Every letter was given me one after the other, with the following remarkable result:
When this work was ended my uncle tore the paper from me and examined it attentively for a long time.
“What does it all mean?” he kept repeating mechanically.
Upon my honour I could not have enlightened him. Besides he did not ask me, and he went on talking to himself.
“This is what is called a cryptogram, or cipher,” he said, “in which letters are purposely thrown in confusion, which if properly arranged would reveal their sense. Only think that under this jargon there may lie concealed the clue to some great discovery!”