I’ve been meaning to put this Big Fat List of English-language Voynich-related novels together for a while: I’ve appended links to the most significant review / blog mentions I’ve made about them. I’ll update this every once in a while, so please feel free to drop me a line if you have or know of a Voynich-themed book you think should be mentioned or reviewed.

English-language Voynich novels in print:

“Return of the Lloigor” by Colin Wilson in Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos (1969) [mentioned here]
The Face in the Frost John Anthony Bellairs (1969) [mentioned here]
Indiana Jones and the Philosopher’s Stone Max McCoy (1994) [mentioned here]
The Grinning Ghost Brad Strickland (1999) [mentioned here]
Enoch’s Portal A.W.Hill (2001) [my review]
Popco Scarlett Thomas (2004) [my review]
The Magician’s Death Paul C. Doherty (2004) [mentioned here]
Shattered Icon (2004) / Splintered Icon (2006) Bill Napier [mentioned here]
Codex Lev Grossman (2005) [mentioned here]
Vellum Matt Rubinstein (2007) [my review]

Forthcoming Voynich novels:

“The Castle of the Stars” Enrique Joven [mentioned here and here]
The Source” Michael Cordy [mentioned here]
“In Tongues of the Dead” Brad Kelln [mentioned here]

Voynich novels in development (working titles where known):

Richard D. Weber [mentioned here and here]
Bill Walsh [mentioned here]
William Michael Campbell (“The Voynich Solution”) [mentioned here and here]
Andrea Peters (“I’m Sorry… Love Anne”) [mentioned here]

Back in the early days of this blog (i.e. last Autumn), Voynich News ranked at about 150th if you did a Google search for “Voynich” – not bad out of 230,000 pages, but certainly with room for improvement. 🙂

Earlier this year, it clawed its way up to about 20th, and then last month up to about 12th: it now it appears anywhere between 1st and 11th (!). I don’t really have any sensible idea why Google’s rankings move around so much: perhaps all the sites are close-to-equally ranked, and the fluctuations arise from a butterfly beating its wings beside an overheated Mountain View server. Yet it seems that this particular butterfly is working especially hard at the moment…

As for the pages that usually rank above Voynich News: well, the Wikipedia entry deserves its place (despite its unbearable focus on the massed ranks of the possible), while I have nothing but praise for Rene Zandbergen’s majestic site. But most of the rest of them are starting to look a little bit old and unmaintained: for instance, John Baez’s Voynich page dates back to January 2005, while the World Mysteries Voynich page seems essentially unchanged from 2003. Admittedly the Crystalinks VMs page has improved over time, but it is still fairly unhelpful.

I suppose this gets to the core of what annoys me most: there isn’t a single Voynich page out there that I would comfortably call “helpful”, apart perhaps from the “Introduction to the Voynich Manuscript” blog entry I put up here a while back (and even though this gets to the point and is reasonably brief, it is still twice as large as it really ought to be). To be honest, I’d write a whole book in that style if I could sustain it for more than three pages… but I suspect I probably couldn’t. Oh well.

Google, of course, has no obligation to direct people either to helpful or to unhelpful sites: it is merely trying to “Do No Evil” (“Eidolon V“? “Devon Oil“?) in its quirky SMERSH-like way, and if its Byzantine page ranking algorithm somehow manages to get you a bit closer to where you want to go, so much the better. Maybe I should find a way of convincing Google’s automated tools to put up some helpful sitelinks (the mini-list of links you sometimes see below search results) for Voynich News: but that’s a mountain to climb another day…

If you haven’t yet been properly introduced to the enjoyable confusion surrounding the Voynich Manuscript, you might well enjoy this very brief New York Times article from 1999 by Michael Pollak, entitled “Can’t Read It? You Can Look at the Pictures“.

I particularly enjoyed the soundbite from William R. Bennett Jr., who nicely points out that ‘‘The manuscript itself seems to have the attraction of a poisonous flower“. And so we’re back to that whole Little Shop of Horrors thing again… oh well!

A month ago, I posted up a blog entry about Dan Burisch’s claimed decryption of the Voynich Manuscript, which a surprisingly large number of people have since read (my blog entry, not the decryption). Burisch claimed that an alien called “#3-15” held by the secret organization known as “Majestic” (presumably an updated version of Majestic-12) had decrypted the VMs, and that its plaintext turned out to be a message from the far future placed in the hands of Roger Bacon 700 years ago about the amazing inventions Dan Burisch has yet to make in the near future: but that whole decryption has been placed in “File 21” somewhere in Europe, and you can’t see it, sorry.

As odd arguments go, this is a thing of curious beauty. Let’s see: an alien (who you’ll never meet) held by the (alleged) modern inheritors of a secret organization (most of whose founding documents appear to have been forged) has decrypted a (probably 15th century) cipher document, revealing that it was written down in (a mangled & ciphered) Hebrew by Roger Bacon (in the 13th century), to whom the actual content was passed from the far future, and which concerned the (yet-to-happen-but-surely-must-be-soon) inventions and discoveries made by Dr Dan Burisch, except that you can’t see the decryption apart from four (frankly rather wobbly) words. Fantastic or fantastical? You decide.

Putting on my historical hat… if (like me) you read papers on Antonio Averlino’s libro architettonico, you often run into very similar problems trying to parse what is being said. Though Averlino’s libro is on one level a kind of encrypted autobiography, it simultaneously functions both as an allegorical novel and as an historical-novel-within-a-novel. Which is to say that readers constantly have to decide what is real, what is imagined, and what is contructed. Would a modern librarian place such a book in fiction or non-fiction?

Of course, Averlino was not crossing those kind of artificial boundaries, because they had not yet been drawn up. Early Renaissance thought was very fluid, very undifferentiated: perhaps the humanistic conceit of trying to gain eternal fama (fame) through their works made sense because the rigid scientific constructions of time we now rely upon had not yet been put in place – perhaps the distant past and remote future somehow felt closer then than they do these days.

In those terms, maybe Dan Burisch’s conception of time is so, errm, alien to us in that it is, rather like Averlino’s, quite undifferentiated and continuous in a vaguely pre-scientific way: a kind of sci-fi reprise of the early Renaissance mind. Perhaps Burisch somehow experiences past and future events all overlapping and concertinaed together, like a kind of strange temporal synaesthesia. Or perhaps he’s just mad, who knows?

Anyway, we have an update on the story. According to a message apparently from Dan Burisch forwarded yesterday to The Golden Thread BBS, “the policy of the Eagles Team [is now] not to comment on the contents of the Voynich Manuscript“, because “it contains such dangerous information, going to prison or being executed would be preferable to disclosing it“. Furthermore, “When I said to you [Fran?] the annotations to Folio 21 [“File 21”?] were not dangerous, I meant it in the context of you seeing it. I never intended you to post it. I apologize to you for the miscommunication, and to the public about the cryptic nature of this post. With this, that is the way it must FOREVER stand.” Which presumably means he won’t post anything more on the subject of the VMs: a shame, as I’d like to know what it said.

The Internet is a strange place: these days, you can tell people think something is interesting not when you find a hundred banal blog entries pointing to it, but rather when you discover that it has been appropriated as a plot element in several online alternate-reality role-playing games. In those terms, the whole Dan Burisch saga to me most resembles neither a conspiracy nor a pathology, but instead a kind of fat-rulebook sci-fi RPG played out between a small group of dungeon masters and the opposing team, “the public”. Roll that octahedral die one more time, baby…

UPDATE: Yet more on Dan Burisch…

Another Voynich-themed novel is announced: “In Tongues of the Dead“, written by Canadian author and forensic psychologist Brad Kelln, to be published by ECW Press in October 2008. It’s his third book (“Lost Sanity” and “Method of Madness” were his others, with some kind of Dead Sea Scrolls prophecy hook to the second one). According to Kelln’s blog, in his day-job he is “a consultant to the Halifax Police and the Nova Scotia RCMP on hostage negotiation“.

In his soon-to-be-published book, an autistic child visiting the Beinecke library is miraculously able to read the VMs… revealing it as “the bible of the Nephilim”. The manuscript then gets stolen, the (presumably) bad guys in the Vatican chase the various protagonists across the world, but they get helped out by a plucky Canadian psychologist doctor guy with a sick child: and whatever happens at the end happens at the end.

Perhaps I’m just feeling a bit negative because the ECW Press blurb describes the VMs as “a 400-year-old document” (I don’t think so, sorry), but this whole book does sound a bit join-the-dots to me. Look: the Voynich Manuscript is a fantastic cipher mystery, but there’s absolutely no reason to think it has any religious (let alone sacrilegious) content. My old friend GC once tried to argue that a couple of the women in the water section were holding things that might possibly be crosses: but that is a pretty thin reed to be balancing any kind of sophistical superstructure upon.

Cryptographically and historically, I think that Kelln should have instead built his story around the Rohonczi Codex or Rohonc Codex, A.K.A. Magyar Tudományos Akadémia (“The Hungarian Academy of Sciences“) MS K 114. This has 448 pages filled with as-yet-undeciphered text, is thought to have been written on Venetian paper from the 1530s, and has 87 illustrations apparently depicting “religious, laic, and military scenes” (according to Wikipedia). There’s a complete set of scans here.

Older historians thought this codex was simply a hoax: but it actually has a lot of order and structure, all of which seems to point to its being meaningful in some unknown or unexpected way. At the Warburg Institute recently, Professor Charles Burnett mentioned to me in the lunch queue that a European scholar (whose name I half-remember as “Gyula”, so might well be Hungarian?) is just about to publish a paper on the Rohonc Codex: a proper academic perspective on this would be very welcome, as just about all the hypotheses circling around it seem fairly lame.

To be brutally honest, if I was Kelln’s publisher, I’d negotiate with him to drop the Voynich Manuscript angle, and to rebuild the first part of the story around Budapest (a far more intriguing town than New Haven I would say, having spent time in both) and the Rohonc Codex. But what do I know?

Incidentally, there’s a conference currently running at the Hungarian Academy of Sciences on the fascinating reign of King Mathias. Yet another event I would have loved to attend. *sigh*

I’ve spent a long time (though “far too long” probably covers it better) hunting down obscured fragments of text in the Voynich Manuscript: so my Spidey-sense tingled almost uncontrollably when I saw a claim for hidden text on f1v in the “Marginal Writing” picture gallery on Glen Claston’s Voynich Central.

I’d never heard of this before: just to be sure, I checked Reuben Ogburn’s 2004 page on “Writing in and around plant illustrations” in case it had slipped in there, but no sign. If you run this through Jon Grove’s colour separator filter, you can see that the brown ink used for the drawing and the brown paint used to fill it in are very slightly different: in the image below, the white area is where the filter thinks the overpainting happened.

But is there writing beneath? If you squint at the topmost image here long enough, you can start to make out something that might almost be writing. But if you filter it slightly differently, I think the answer emerges: the “signal” (below) appears to be not writing, but only compression artefacts from the MrSID wavelet encoding. Sorry, guys: false alarm! (Though next time I’m at the Beinecke, I’ll have another quick look, just to be completely sure…)

I know, I did blog about this only three days ago: but science moves ever onwards, OK?

A nice email arrived from Robert Matthews, the author of an excellent page on the d’Agapeyeff Cipher: he mentioned that he had received an email in February 2006 from John Willemse in Holland, who had suggested a novel kind of transposition cipher based around a spiral:-

I’m in no way a cipher expert, but I am a very curious person and I was wondering if the positioning of the 14×14 digram table could have anything to do with a spiral. The reason I suspect this, is that a spiraling positioning of numbers have the property that each upperleft corner of such a spiral (when starting with zero in the center) is a perfect square number. I’ll try to illustrate my point:

16 15 14 13 12
17 .4 .3 .2 11 ..
18 .5 .0 .1 10 ..
19 .6 .7 .8 .9 26
20 21 22 23 24 25

Starting from zero, and counting up, anti-clockwise, you will encounter a perfect square of each even number in the topleft corner. 196 is also such a number.

The ’04’ digram almost in the center could be a break point. If you ‘break’ after the zero and shift the 4 to the right, creating a new set of digrams, you end up with a set of digrams before the zero and a set after the zero. The set after the zero should probably be reversed, either the whole set or the individual digrams, to create a similar set as the first one (the digrams starting with higher digits and ending with lower digits).

You might then be able to construct a spiral like positioning, with the zero in the center or the zero obmitted. The first set might then be ‘twisted’ around it clockwise, and the second set anti-clockwise, possibly interweaving each other.

These are just some wild ideas, and I’m in no way capable of constructing and verifying such a table myself, but maybe it’s something to investigate?

Willemse’s idea is certainly interesting: but let’s look again at the (derived) 14×14 layout. To recap: one of the reasons for suspecting that transposition is involved is that there are two sets of horizontal tripled letters (75 75 75 and 63 63 63), while one of the reasons for suspecting that it’s not a ‘matrix transpose’ diagonal flip is that there are two sets of vertical tripled letters (81 81 81 and 82 82 82). That is, unless the plaintext sadistically contains a phrase like “SEPIA AARDVARK” (a phrase which, I’m delighted to note, Google believes currently appears nowhere else on the Internet).

75 62 82 85 91 62 91 64 81 64 91 74 85 84
64 74 74 82 84 83 81 63 81 81 74 74 82 62
64 75 83 82 84 91 75 74 65 83 75 75 75 93
63 65 65 81 63 81 75 85 75 75 64 62 82 92
85 74 63 82 75 74 83 81 65 81 84 85 64 85
64 85 85 63 82 72 62 83 62 81 81 72 81 64
63 75 82 81 64 83 63 82 85 81 63 63 63 04
74 81 91 91 84 63 85 84 65 64 85 65 62 94
62 62 85 91 85 91 74 91 72 75 64 65 75 71
65 83 62 64 74 81 82 84 62 82 64 91 81 93
65 62 64 84 84 91 83 85 74 91 81 65 72 74
83 83 85 82 83 64 62 72 62 65 62 83 75 92
72 63 82 82 72 72 83 82 85 84 75 82 81 83
72 84 62 82 83 75 81 64 75 74 85 81 62 92


From this, it seems that, yes, you could construct a large number of spiral transpositions without tripled letter sequences. Yet I’m not completely convinced by the idea that the 04 token is a good indicator for the centre of a spiral: from the substitution cipher angle, I’d be quite happy to tag that as a likely ‘X’ or ‘Y’ in the plaintext instead.

However, I would point out that if you examine the various diagonal transpositions of the 14×14 (i.e. reading through the 14×14 one diagonal line at a time), there is (unless I’m somehow mistaken) apparently only a single tripled letter in two of them, and that only over a line-break:-

75 62 82 85 91 62 91 64 81 64 91 74 85 84
64 74 74 82 84 83 81 63 81 81 74 74 82 62
64 75 83 82 84 91 75 74 65 83 75 75 75 93
63 65 65 81 63 81 75 85 75 75 64 62 82 92
85 74 63 82 75 74 83 81 65 81 84 85 64 85
64 85 85 63 82 72 62 83 62 81 81 72 81 64
63 75 82 81 64 83 63 82 85 81 63 63 63 04
74 81 91 91 84 63 85 84 65 64 85 65 62 94
62 62 85 91 85 91 74 91 72 75 64 65 75 71
65 83 62 64 74 81 82 84 62 82 64 91 81 93
65 62 64 84 84 91 83 85 74 91 81 65 72 74
83 83 85 82 83 64 62 72 62 65 62 83 75 92
72 63 82 82 72 72 83 82 85 84 75 82 81 83
72 84 62 82 83 75 81 64 75 74 85 81 62 92


All in all, Willemse’s idea of a spiral transposition does seem intriguing: but perhaps a little more psychologically ornate than d’Agapeyeff would have considered necessary as an exercise for the reader. If I were actively looking for a solution to this cipher (which I’m not), I would instead start with the four basic diagonal transpositions of the 14×14, and see if they led anywhere interesting… you never know! 🙂

While looking at Elonka’s list of unsolved cipher mysteries while composing my post on the d’Agapeyeff cipher, my eye was drawn to the list of solved cipher mysteries she appended to it, and in particular to “The E. A. Poe Cryptographic Challenge“.

Edgar Allan Poe often used codes and ciphers in his stories, most famously in “The Gold-Bug” (which incidentally inspired a very young William Friedman to take up an interest in cryptography). He also asked readers of one popular magazine to send him their ciphers to crack: which he (allegedly) managed to do for the hundred such that arrived.

However, in 1839 Poe published two tricky cryptograms allegedly by “Mr. W. B. Tyler” (probably a Poe pseudonym) which nobody at the time was able to break. These were rediscovered in 1985 by Professor Louis Renza, who then tried to raise their profile: before too long (in 1992), Professor Terence Whalen managed to solve the first one, which turned out to be nothing more complex than a simple monoalphabetic cipher.

The second (still-unbroken) cipher attracted the attention of Professor Shawn Rosenheim, who not only described it in his book The Cryptographic Imagination: Secret Writing from Edgar Poe to the Internet (Johns Hopkins, 1997), but also put up a $2500 prize to attract solvers’ attention, with the help of Jim Moore of bokler.com who built a website to promote it.

And then, after Rosenheim and Moore had fielded hundreds of fruitless emails and responses, a software engineer from Toronto called Gil Broza finally cracked the second cipher in October 2000: his decryption is detailed here.

For followers of the Voynich Manuscript, this makes for fairly depressing reading: neither of the “W. B. Tyler” ciphers were, even by the standard of Milanese ciphers circa 1465, particularly tricky, yet Broza had to work really quite hard to solve the second one. He worked out his own transcription, wrote his own software… and then still basically had to break into it by hand, a process made even more difficult by the presence of errors in the ciphertext (which were probably introduced in the typesetting). And people wonder why modern supercomputers can’t unravel the secrets of Voynichese – a cipher that is ten times harder than the second Poe Cipher.

The real mystery about Poe is actually the manner of his death: but that’s an intriguing story for another day… 🙂

Here’s a little Voynich Manuscript pop-culture link that got excised from Wikipedia last September. Poor thing: I thought I’d give it a second home here.

In the Esperanto-language comic strip “La Veksilologisto” (The Vexillologist), “Dr. Voynich” is the hero’s arch-enemy. Gifted by aliens with the “Orb of Esperanto” which allows universal translation, Voynich discovers this to be intolerable (animals speak, humans tell the truth), and sets out in search of the “Orb of Babel” which has the opposite effect.

I dug up a second reference to this comic strip here (also in Esperanto), which I tried to translate back into English courtesy of Traduku (an online Esperanto <–> English translator)… which had problems with cookies both in IE and Firefox (*sigh*). But (guessing at the Esperanto, which usually works), it seems as though it is a comic strip drawn by someone called David Bell, and published in the Esperanto magazine “Formoza Folio”.

And then, via this bibliographic page, I found a dead link to a missing file called “ff2.pdf” which (supposedly) contains a copy of the strip (apparently it was published in Taiwan in 2006): but the Wayback Machine didn’t have a copy of it. Oh well: I guess I’ll just have to carry on living without the joy of reading an Esperanto comic strip. But if anyone does manage to find a copy, please let me know! 🙂

Back in 1939, Alexander d’Agapeyeff wrote a tidy little book called “Codes and Ciphers” on cryptography history: though you can now buy it print-on-demand, cheap copies of the original book often come up on the various second-hand book aggregators (such as bookfinder.com), which is where I got my copy of the “Revised and reset” 1949 edition.

What is now generally understood is that d’Agapeyeff wasn’t really a cryptographer per se: he had previously written a similar book on cartography for the same publisher, and so thought to tackle cryptography.

On the very last page of the text (p.144), d’Agapeyeff dropped in a little cipher challenge, saying “Here is a cryptogram upon which the reader is invited to test his skill.

75628 28591 62916 48164 91748 58464 74748 28483 81638 18174
74826 26475 83828 49175 74658 37575 75936 36565 81638 17585
75756 46282 92857 46382 75748 38165 81848 56485 64858 56382
72628 36281 81728 16463 75828 16483 63828 58163 63630 47481
91918 46385 84656 48565 62946 26285 91859 17491 72756 46575
71658 36264 74818 28462 82649 18193 65626 48484 91838 57491
81657 27483 83858 28364 62726 26562 83759 27263 82827 27283
82858 47582 81837 28462 82837 58164 75748 58162 92000

This modest little cryptogram, now known as “the d’Agapeyeff Cipher“, has somehow remained unbroken for 70 years, and is often to be found alongside the Voynich Manuscript on lists of cipher enigmas.

The first thing to note is that adjacent columns are formed alternately from 67890 and 12345 characters respectively: which is a huge hint that what we are looking at is (in part, at least) a grid cipher, where each pair of numbers gives a position in a grid. If so, then we can throw away the “patristrocat” spaces between the blocks of numbers and rearrange them as pairs.

75 62 82 85 91 62 91 64 81 64 91 74 85 84 64 74 74 82 84 83 81 63 81 81 74
74 82 62 64 75 83 82 84 91 75 74 65 83 75 75 75 93 63 65 65 81 63 81 75 85
75 75 64 62 82 92 85 74 63 82 75 74 83 81 65 81 84 85 64 85 64 85 85 63 82
72 62 83 62 81 81 72 81 64 63 75 82 81 64 83 63 82 85 81 63 63 63 04 74 81
91 91 84 63 85 84 65 64 85 65 62 94 62 62 85 91 85 91 74 91 72 75 64 65 75
71 65 83 62 64 74 81 82 84 62 82 64 91 81 93 65 62 64 84 84 91 83 85 74 91
81 65 72 74 83 83 85 82 83 64 62 72 62 65 62 83 75 92 72 63 82 82 72 72 83
82 85 84 75 82 81 83 72 84 62 82 83 75 81 64 75 74 85 81 62 92 00 0[0]


The first hint that the order of these might have been scrambled (‘transposed’) comes from the two sets of tripled letters: 75 75 75 and 63 63 63. Five centuries ago, even Cicco Simonetta and his Milanese cipher clerks knew that tripled letters are very rare (the only one in Latin is “uvula“, ‘little egg’). The second hint that this is a transposition cipher is the total number of characters (apart from the “00” filler at the end): 14×14. If we discard the filler & rearrange the grid we get:-

75 62 82 85 91 62 91 64 81 64 91 74 85 84
64 74 74 82 84 83 81 63 81 81 74 74 82 62
64 75 83 82 84 91 75 74 65 83 75 75 75 93
63 65 65 81 63 81 75 85 75 75 64 62 82 92
85 74 63 82 75 74 83 81 65 81 84 85 64 85
64 85 85 63 82 72 62 83 62 81 81 72 81 64
63 75 82 81 64 83 63 82 85 81 63 63 63 04
74 81 91 91 84 63 85 84 65 64 85 65 62 94
62 62 85 91 85 91 74 91 72 75 64 65 75 71
65 83 62 64 74 81 82 84 62 82 64 91 81 93
65 62 64 84 84 91 83 85 74 91 81 65 72 74
83 83 85 82 83 64 62 72 62 65 62 83 75 92
72 63 82 82 72 72 83 82 85 84 75 82 81 83
72 84 62 82 83 75 81 64 75 74 85 81 62 92

This is very probably the starting point for the real cryptography (though the presence of tripled characters in the columns implies that it probably isn’t a simple “matrix-like” diagonal transposition. Essentially, it seems that we now have to solve a 14×14 transposition cipher and a 5×5 substitution cipher simultaneously, over a relatively small cryptogram – an immense number of combinations to explore.

However, we know that d’Agapeyeff wasn’t a full-on cryptographer, so we should really explore the psychological angle before going crazy with an 800-year-long brute-force search. For a start, if you lay out the frequencies for the 5×5 letter grid (with 12345 on top, 67890 on the left), a pattern immediately appears:-

** .1 .2 .3 .4 .5
6. _0 17 12 16 11
7. _1 _9 _0 14 17
8. 20 17 15 11 17
9. 12 _3 _2 _1 _0
0. _0 _0 _0 _1 _0

Here, the 61 (top-left) frequency is 0, the 73 frequency is 0, and the final nine frequencies are 3, 2, 1, 0; 0, 0, 0, 1, 0. I think this points to a 5×5 mapping generated by a keyphrase, such as “Alexander d’Agapeyeff is cool” (for example). To make a keyphrase into a 5×5 alphabet, turn all Js into Is (say), remove all duplicate letters (and so it becomes ALEXNDRGPYFISCO), and then pad to the end with any unused characters in the alphabet in sequence (BHKMQTUVWZ)

* 1 2 3 4 5
6 A L E X N
7 D R G P Y
8 F I S C O
9 B H K M Q
0 T U V W Z

For a long-ish (but language-like) keyphrase, rare characters would tend to get moved to the end of the block: which is what we appear to see in the frequency counts above, suggesting that the final few letters are (for example) W X Y Z or W X Z.

Yet 61 and 73 have frequency counts of zero, which points to their being really rare letters (like Q or Z). However, if you read the frequency counts as strings, 61 62 63 = 0 17 12, while 73 74 75 = 0 14 17: which perhaps points to the first letter of the keyphrase (i.e. 61) being a rare consonant, and the second pair being Q U followed by a vowel. Might 73 74 75 76 77 be QUIET or QUITE?

I don’t (of course) know: but I do strongly suspect that it might be possible for a cunning cryptographer to crack d’Agapeyeff’s keyphrase quite independently of his transposition cipher. It can’t be that hard, can it? ;-p

———-
Update: a follow-up post is here