Inside was a sliver of silk. On it, in Sir Francis’s own hand: The seventh Unicorn sleeps where the tide writes its name twice a day. UN-7: follow the old pilgrim’s path from the drowned church at low tide. The rock that weeps iron is the door.
Because each model was a fragment.
Tintin’s heart raced. “Chart?”
And as the tide began to rise, washing away their footprints, the secret of the Unicorn —hidden for three centuries by a single, humble serial number—was finally safe.
The dusty air of Moulinsart Library smelled of old vellum and forgotten centuries. Tintin, his magnifying glass in hand, was not examining the grand tapestry or the carved oak beams. He was hunched over the model ship—the Unicorn —which sat on a felt cloth, its masts now splintered from the scuffle with the Bird Brothers. The Adventures Of Tintin Secret Of The Unicorn Serial Number
Inside was not gold. It was a leather-bound folio. The true secret of the Unicorn .
“The Unicorn was a secret vessel. Her true logbook wasn’t kept on paper. It was kept in her bones. Each ‘UN’ part—the bowsprit, the rudder post, the keel—had a number. UN-1, UN-2, all the way to UN-7. The serial number you found is a coordinate key. UN-7 means the seventh structural point. If you know how to read it, it points to a hidden compartment.” Back at Marlinspike Hall, Tintin re-examined the shattered Unicorn . The Bird Brothers had wanted the parchments. Sakharine had wanted the ship itself. But none of them had asked: why three identical models? Inside was a sliver of silk
Tintin carefully removed the stern section. Inside the cavity where the rudder chain ran, he found not parchment, but a tiny brass cylinder, sealed with wax. He cracked it open.