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, noble 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 ’Petites 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.