My uncle went on working, his imagination went off rambling into the ideal world of combinations; he was far away from earth, and really far away from earthly wants. About noon hunger began to stimulate me severely. Martha had, without thinking any harm, cleared out the larder the night before, so that now there was nothing left in the house. Still I held out; I made it a point of honour. Two o'clock struck. This was becoming ridiculous; worse than that, unbearable. I began to say to myself that I was exaggerating the importance of the document; that my uncle would surely not believe in it, that he would set it down as a mere puzzle; that if it came to the worst, we should lay violent hands on him and keep him at home if he thought on venturing on the expedition; that, after all, he might himself discover the key of the cipher, and that then I should be clear at the mere expense of my involuntary abstinence. These reasons seemed excellent to me, though on the night before I should have rejected them with indignation; I even went so far as to condemn myself for my absurdity in having waited so long, and I finally resolved to let it all out. I was therefore meditating a proper introduction to the matter, so as not to seem too abrupt, when the Professor jumped up, clapped on his hat, and prepared to go out. Surely he was not going out, to shut us in again! no, never! "Uncle!" I cried. He seemed not to hear me. "Uncle Liedenbrock!" I cried, lifting up my voice. "Ay," he answered like a man suddenly waking. "Uncle, that key!" "What key? The door key?" "No, no!" I cried. "The key of the document." The Professor stared at me over his spectacles; no doubt he saw something unusual in the expression of my countenance; for he laid hold of my arm, and speechlessly questioned me with his eyes. Yes, never was a question more forcibly put. I nodded my head up and down. He shook his pityingly, as if he was dealing with a lunatic. I gave a more affirmative gesture. His eyes glistened and sparkled with live fire, his hand was shaken threateningly. This mute conversation at such a momentous crisis would have riveted the attention of the most indifferent. And the fact really was that I dared not speak now, so intense was the excitement for fear lest my uncle should smother me in his first joyful embraces. But he became so urgent that I was at last compelled to answer. "Yes, that key, chance--" "What is that you are saying?" he shouted with indescribable emotion. "There, read that!" I said, presenting a sheet of paper on which I had written. "But there is nothing in this," he answered, crumpling up the paper. "No, nothing until you proceed to read from the end to the beginning." I had not finished my sentence when the Professor broke out into a cry, nay, a roar. A new revelation burst in upon him. He was transformed! "Aha, clever Saknussemm!" he cried. "You had first written out your sentence the wrong way."