“Got it, Eddie!” he exclaimed. “Get a pencil and paper, and take it down as I give it to you.”
Eddie took out a notebook and wrote down what he was told, sitting there in silence, not disturbing his employer by so much as an unnecessary movement.
“Put down ‘Go unto,’ Eddie,” said Val.
Therefore it shall be when ye be gone over Jordan, that ye shall set up these stones, which I command you this day, in Mount Ebal, and thou shalt plaister them with plaister.
Mount was underscored—the only word in the passage underscored. Through the succeeding passages Val spelled out the word—Monroe; the letters of this were spelled out in sequence from different words in the text.
“Mount Monroe,” dictated Val. “Got that—Go unto Mount Monroe?”
“Yes, sir,” said Eddie. The rest of the message was short, spelled out through the chapter in the same way, letter by letter.
It read, in full:
“Go unto Mount Monroe, to the secret cave known only to Jessica, my daughter. To her, my sole relative and heir, is left all that is there contained.
Peter J. Pomeroy.
Val leaned back in blissful contemplation of this. So there really was treasure. Doubloons, pieces of eight, Spanish gold! It was more or less like a novel of adventure, he told himself. He had never been in this on account of the money. As a matter of fact, he had doubted gravely that there really was any money hidden, buried, or wherever it was that people put money away, if they did not put it in banks.
And now it had come true, miraculously, like a fairy
