Edward Layton were once engaged to be married is of the utmost interest
to me. You will doubtless in your letters explain more fully what you
know, but I do not wait for letters from you. Time is too precious for
me to lose an hour, a moment. I feel confident, before you enlighten me
upon this point, that I shall ferret out something of importance which
may lead to the end we both desire. I may confess to you at once that
the case has taken complete hold of me, and that, without any prospect
of monetary compensation, I should devote myself to it. That Edward
Layton is bent upon sacrificing himself in some person's interests
seems to me to be certain. It would take something in the shape of a
miracle to convince me that he is guilty of the crime of which he is
charged. I have elected myself his champion, and if it be in the power
of man to bring him out of his desperate strait with honor, I resolve,
with all the earnestness of my heart and with all the strength of my
intellect, to accomplish it. The intelligence that Mr. James Rutland is
uncle to the young lady to whom Edward Layton was engaged may be of use
to me. I do not yet despair of obtaining useful information from him.
My inquiry respecting the Nine of Hearts was not idly made. This
particular playing-card, which was found in the pocket of Layton's
ulster, and of which he had no knowledge, is, I am convinced, an
important feature in the case.
I have already enlisted the services of three or four agents, and as
I intend to spare no expense, it may be that I shall call upon your
bankers for a further sum of money, which I feel assured you will not
begrudge.
Certain events are working in my favor. Of those that do not
immediately bear upon the matter I shall make no mention, but those
that do shall find a record here.
For some portion of the day after my interview with Edward Layton
in prison, I was, apart from my practical work, engaged upon the
consideration of the question whether I should call upon Miss Mabel
Rutland, at 32 Lavender Terrace, South Kensington. I went there in
a cab, and reconnoitred the house outside, but I did not venture to
enter it. It is one of a terrace of fourteen mansions, built in the
Elizabethan style. No person could afford to reside there who was
not in a position to spend a couple of thousand a year. The natural
conclusion, therefore, is that Miss Rutland's people are wealthy.
That in the absence of some distinct guide or clew or information I
should have been compelled to present myself at the address, for the
purpose of seeking an interview with the young lady to whom Edward
Layton's letter was addressed, was certain; but chance or destiny came
here to my assistance.
Dr. Daincourt called upon me at between ten and eleven o'clock in the
night.
"I make no apology for this late visit," he said; "I have something of
importance to communicate.
"When you spoke to me last night about the jury, you gave me the list of
names to look over. I glanced at them casually, and gathered nothing
from them, until Mr. Laing's cable message arrived from America.
That incident, of course, impressed upon my mind the name of Mr.
James Rutland. It was strange to me; I was not acquainted with any
person hearing it. But it is most singular that this afternoon I was
unexpectedly called into consultation upon a serious case--a young
lady, Miss Mabel Rutland, who has been for some time in a bad state.
The diagnosis presents features sufficiently familiar to a specialist,
and also sufficiently perplexing. Her nerves are shattered; she is
suffering mentally, and there is decided danger."
"Miss Mabel Rutland," I said, mechanically, "living at 32 Lavender
Terrace, South Kensington."
"You know her?" exclaimed Dr. Daincourt, in astonishment.
"I have never seen her," I said, "but I know where she lives."
"Is she related," inquired Dr. Daincourt, "to the one juryman who held
out upon Edward Layton's trial?"
"There is no need for secrets between us," I replied; "but it will be
as well to keep certain matters to ourselves."
"Certainly. I will not speak of them to any one. It is agreed that what
passes between us is in confidence."
"Miss Mabel Rutland is niece to the Mr. James Rutland who was on the
jury."
"That is strange," exclaimed Dr. Daincourt.
"Very strange," I said; "but I shall be surprised if, before we come to
the end of this affair, we do not meet with even stranger circumstances
than that. Proceed, I beg, with what you have to tell me concerning
Miss Rutland."
"Well," said Dr. Daincourt, "her parents are in great distress about
her. I saw and examined her, and I am much puzzled. There is nothing
radically wrong with her. There is no confirmed disease; her lungs
are sufficiently strong; she is not in a consumption, and yet it may
be that she will die. It is not her body that is suffering, it is her
mind. Of course I was very particular in making the fullest inquiries,
and indeed she interested me. Although her features are wasted, she
is very beautiful, and there _rests_ upon her face an expression of
suffering exaltation and self-sacrifice which deeply impressed me. In
saying that this expression rests upon her face, I am speaking with
exactness. It is not transient; it does not come and go. It is always
there, and to my experienced eyes it appears to denote some strong
trouble which has oppressed her for a considerable time, and under
the pressure of which she has at length broken down. I could readily
believe what her parents told me, that there were times when she was
delirious for many hours."
"Has she been long ill?" I inquired.
"She has been confined to her bed," replied Dr. Daincourt, "since the
26th of March."
"The 26th of March," I repeated; "the day on which Mrs. Edward Layton
was found dead."
Dr. Daincourt started. "I did not give that a thought," he said.
"Why should you?" I remarked. "I may confess to you, doctor, that I
apply almost everything I hear to the case upon which I am engaged. I
shall surprise you even more when I ask you whether, during the time
you were in 32 Lavender Terrace, you heard the name of Edward Layton
mentioned?"
"No," replied Dr. Daincourt; "his name was not mentioned. Bainbridge, I
know that you are not given to idle talk; there is always some meaning
in what you say."
"Assuredly," I said, "I am not in the mood for idle talk just now.
Events are marching on, doctor, and I am inclined to think that we are
on the brink of a discovery. You have not yet told me all I wish to
know concerning Miss Mabel Rutland. What members of the family did you
see?"
"Her mother, her father, and herself," replied Dr. Daincourt.
"Do those comprise the whole of the family?"
"I do not know; I did not inquire."
"Give me some description of her parents."
"Her father," said Dr. Daincourt, "is a gentleman of about sixty years
of age."
"Is there any doubt in your mind that he is a gentleman?"
"Not the slightest."
"Attached to his daughter--entertaining an affection for her?"
"I should certainly say so, but at the same time not given to
sentimental demonstration."
"As to character, now?" I asked. "What impression did he leave upon
you?"
"That he was stern, self-willed, unbending. Hard to turn, I suspect,
when once he is resolved."
"Like his brother," I observed, "Mr. James Rutland, who was on Layton's
trial. Those traits evidently run in the family. Now, as to his wife?"
"A gentle and amiable lady," said Dr. Daincourt, "some eight or ten
years younger than her husband; but her hair is already grayer than
his; it is almost white."
"She and her daughter resemble each other," I remarked.
"Yes; and there is also on the mother's face an expression of devotion
and self-sacrifice. Her eyes continually overflowed when we were
speaking of her daughter."
"Not so the father's eyes?"
"No; but he showed no want of feeling."
"Still, doctor," I said, "you gather from your one visit to the house
that he is the master of it--in every sense, I mean."
"Most certainly the master."
"Ruling," I remarked, "with a rod of iron."
"You put ideas into my head," said Dr. Daincourt, in a somewhat
helpless tone.
"If they clash with your own, say so."
"They do not clash with my own, but I am not prone so suddenly to take
such decided views. I should say you are right, Bainbridge, and that in
his house Mr. Rutland's will is law."
"Would that be likely," I asked, "to account in any way for the
expression of self-sacrifice you observed on the faces of mother and
daughter?"
"It might be so," said Dr. Daincourt, thoughtfully.
"Proceed, now," I said, "and tell me all that passed."
"But little remains to tell," said Dr. Daincourt. "I informed the
parents that their daughter was suffering more from mental than from
physical causes; that it was clear to me that there was a heavy trouble
upon her mind, and that, until her trouble was removed, there was but
faint hope of her getting well and strong. 'I am speaking in the dark,'
I said to the parents, 'and while I remain in ignorance of the cause,
it is almost impossible for me to prescribe salutary remedies.' 'Can
you do nothing for her?' asked the father. 'Can you not give her some
medicine?' 'Yes, I can give her medicine,' I replied, 'but nothing that
would be likely to be of benefit to her. Indeed, the medicine already
in her room is such as would be ordinarily prescribed by a medical man
who had not reached the core of the patient's disease.' 'If she goes
on as she is going on now,' said the father, what will be the result?'
'Her strength is failing fast,' I replied; 'what little reserve she has
to draw upon will soon be exhausted. If she goes on as she is going
on now, I am afraid there will be but one result.' The mother burst
into tears; the father fixed his steady gaze upon me, but I saw his
lips quiver. 'We have called you in, Dr. Daincourt,' he said, 'because
we have heard of wonderful cures you have effected in patients who
have suffered from weak nerves.' 'I have been happily successful,'
I said, in effecting cures, but I have never yet succeeded where a
secret has been hidden from me.' At these words the mother raised
her hands imploringly to her husband. 'Do you think that a secret is
being hidden from you in this case?' asked the father. 'It is not for
me to say,' I replied; 'it is simply my duty to acquaint you with the
fact that your daughter's disease is mental, and that her condition
is critical. Until I learn the cause of her grief, I am powerless to
aid her.' 'Will you oblige me by calling to-morrow?' asked the father,
after a slight pause. 'Yes,' I said, preparing to depart, 'I will call
in the afternoon, and, if you wish, will see your daughter again.' He
expressed his thanks in courteous terms, and I took my leave. I should
have come here earlier, Bainbridge, to relate this to you, but I have
had other serious cases to attend to. A doctor's time is not his own,
you know."
"I have something to tell you, doctor," I said, "with reference to your
new patient, which will interest you. Mabel Rutland was once engaged
to be married to Edward Layton, and I believe there was a deep and
profound attachment between them."
"You startle me," he said, "and have given me food for thought."
When he bade me good-night, it was with the determination to extract,
if possible, from Mabel Rutland's parents some information respecting
her mental condition which might be used to her benefit. For my part,
I must confess to the hope, unreasonable as it may appear, that he may
also be successful in obtaining some information which will assist me
in the elucidation of the mystery upon which I am employed.
_Cable message from Mr. Bainbridge, London, to Archibald Laing, U. S_.
"Give me what particulars you can of Miss Mabel Rutland and her
parents, and of her brothers and sisters, if she has any."
_Cable message from Air. Archibald Laing, U. S to Mr. Bainbridge,
London_.
"Miss Mabel Rutland has no sisters. She has only a twin-brother,
Eustace, to whom she was passionately attached and devoted. This
brother and sister and their parents comprise the family. Mr.
Rutland is of an implacable and relentless disposition, impatient
of contradiction, and obstinate to a degree. These qualities were
exercised in my favor some years ago, when I paid court to Miss
Rutland, in the hope of making her my wife. Her father would have
forced her into a marriage with me, but when I could no longer doubt
that she loved Edward Layton, I preferred to retire rather than render
her unhappy. By so doing, I think I won her esteem, and it is for her
sake I wish Layton to be cleared of the charge brought against him.
It is my belief that she still loves him, and she must be suffering
terribly. If Layton is convicted, it will break her heart. I know
very little of her brother Eustace. He was at Oxford when I was in
London, and I met him only once or twice. Mrs. Rutland is a sweet lady,
gentle-mannered, kindly-hearted, and I fear domineered over by her
husband."
III.
I thank you for the information contained in your last cable. It gives
me an insight into the generous motives which have prompted you to
step forward on Edward Layton's behalf, and I am gratified in being
associated with you in the cause. When a counsel finds himself _en
rapport_ with his client, it is generally of assistance to him he works
with a better spirit.
Three days have passed since I wrote and despatched to you the second
portion of the narrative of my proceedings and progress. I was waiting
anxiously for something to occur--I could not exactly say what--which
would serve as an absolute stepping-stone. Something _has_ occurred
which, although I have not yet discovered the key to it, will, I
believe, prove to be of the utmost importance. You will understand
later on what I mean by my use of the word "key;" and when I tell you
that this which I call the stepping-stone is nothing more or less than
the Nine of Hearts, you will give me credit for my prescience on the
first production of that card in the Criminal Court. I felt convinced
that it would be no insignificant factor in the elucidation of the
Layton mystery.
I may say here that the progress we have made is entirely due to Dr.
Daincourt. What I should have done had he not been unexpectedly called
in to our assistance, it is difficult to say. I should not have been
idle, but it is scarcely likely that, within so short a time, my
actions would have led to the point we have now reached. Dr. Daincourt
has allowed himself to be prompted by me to a certain extent, and
his interest in his beautiful patient has been intensified by the
friendship existing between us, and by the esteem we both entertain for
Edward Layton.
In accordance with the promise Dr. Daincourt gave to Mr. Rutland,
he called upon, that gentleman on the day following his first visit
to the house. During the interval Miss Rutland's condition had not
improved; it had, indeed, grown worse. There was an aggravation of the
feverish symptoms, and her speech was wild and incoherent. Perhaps it
would be more correct to say that it was wild and incoherent to those
who were assembled at her bedside. I hold to the theory that there
is a method in dreams, and I also hold to the theory that there is a
method in the wildest utterances produced by the wildest delirium. I
speak, of course, as a lawyer. Dr. Daincourt's position with respect to
Miss Rutland was that of a physician. Had _I_ heard the words uttered
by Miss Rutland in her fevered state, I do not doubt that my legal
training would have enabled me to detect what was hidden from Dr.
Daincourt and the young lady's parents.
During this second visit to Miss Rutland, her father requested Dr.
Daincourt to give him a private interview, in the course of which
he elicited from the doctor an accentuation of the views which Dr.
Daincourt had expressed on the previous day. Mr. Rutland made a vain
attempt to combat these views. He would have been glad to be assured
that his daughter was suffering from a physical, and not from a mental
malady; but Dr. Daincourt was positive, and was not to be moved from
his conviction. He emphasized his inability to treat the case with
any hope of success, and he repeated his belief, if Miss Rutland were
allowed to continue in her present condition without any effort being
made to arrive at the cause of her mental suffering, that there could
be but one result--death before the end of the year.
At the commencement of this interview between Mr. Rutland and Dr.
Daincourt, Mrs. Rutland was not present; but after it had lasted some
twenty minutes or so, her anxiety became so overpowering that she
knocked at the door of the room in which the conversation was taking
place, and begged to be admitted. The issue at stake was so grave that
Mr. Rutland could not refuse, and thus it was that she was present when
Dr. Daincourt spoke in plain terms of the serious condition of his
beautiful patient. The mother's distress was pitiable, but it appeared
to produce no impression upon her husband.
"And yet," said Dr. Daincourt, in narrating the affair to me, "I am
sure that Mr. Rutland was inwardly suffering, and I am also sure that
he has a sincere affection for his daughter."
The interview terminated by Mr. Rutland requesting Dr. Daincourt to
call again the next day, to which request the doctor gave a reluctant
assent.
He called on the following day, with the same result. Again he saw the
patient; again he had an interview with Mr. Rutland, at which Mrs.
Rutland was present; again he emphasized his view of the young lady's
condition; and again Mr. Rutland requested him to pay another visit
upon his daughter. Dr. Daincourt objected. He told Mr. Rutland that,
as matters stood, his visits were useless, and that in the absence of
necessary information it was his distinct wish to be relieved from them.
"And I feel it my duty," he said to the father, "to inform you that if
you intend to do nothing further than it seems to me is your present
intention, you are playing with your daughter's life."
These were grave words to use, but Dr. Daincourt is no ordinary
man. His knowledge and experience lead him intuitively to correct
conclusions, and in his professional capacity be will not be trifled
with.
"In these circumstances," he said to Mr. Rutland, "I must beg of you to
summon some other physician in whom you have greater confidence."
"I have the fullest confidence in you," said Mr. Rutland.
"You have not shown it," was Dr. Daincourt's rejoinder. "It is
as though you have determined that you, and not I, shall be your
daughter's physician."
However, he allowed himself to be prevailed upon to pay Miss Rutland
yet another visit. But he gave his consent only upon the express
stipulation that it should be his last, unless Mr. Rutland placed him
in possession of information which would enable him to fully understand
the case.
I come now to this fourth interview, which was pregnant with results.
Upon presenting himself at the house he was received by Mrs. Rutland,
who said to him,
"My husband has consented that I should tell you all you desire to know
with respect to our dear child."
"You have prevailed upon him to consent," said Dr. Daincourt.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Rutland, "I have, thank God! prevailed upon him to
consent. Dear doctor, you will save my child, will you not?"
"I will do all that lies in my power," said Dr. Daincourt.
"What is it you wish to know?" asked Mrs. Rutland.
"Everything that concerns your daughter," said Dr. Daincourt, "with
respect to her disposition, habits, likings, and affections. She has
a terrible weight upon her mind, and you must certainly have some
suspicion of the cause. You may have more than a suspicion, you may
have a positive knowledge. You must hide nothing from me. Unless you
are prepared to be absolutely and entirely frank in your disclosures,
I cannot undertake to continue my visits. You are her mother--you love
her tenderly?"
"I love her with all my heart and soul," said Mrs. Rutland, weeping.
"If my daughter is taken from me, I shall not care to live!"
"In deep sincerity, then," said Dr. Daincourt, "I declare to you that
you may be acting as your daughter's enemy instead of her friend if you
do not open your heart and mind to me freely and without restraint.
Relate as briefly as you can, without omitting important points, the
story of her life."
It was a simple, touching story which Mrs. Rutland disclosed, fragrant
with all that is sweetest in woman. The Rutlands have but two children,
Mabel and Eustace, who came into the world within a few minutes of
each other. Between these children existed a most profound and devoted
love, and to tear Eustace away from Mabel was like tearing the girl's
heartstrings. The lad's love was the weaker of the two, as is usually
the case, but he nevertheless adored his sister, who repaid him tenfold
for all the affection he lavished upon her. They grew up together,
shared each other's pleasures, had secret and innocent methods of
communicating with each other which afforded them intense delight, and
were inseparable until they reached the age of eighteen, when Eustace
went to college. Hitherto his studies had been conducted at home, a
home of peace and harmony and love; for, stern and implacable as Mr.
Rutland was, he loved his children and his wife; but he loved something
else equally well--his honor and his good name. While Eustace was
absent at college, he and Mabel corresponded regularly.
"But," said the mother, "neither my husband nor myself was ever able
to understand Eustace's letters to his sister. They were always
written in the form of mystery-letters. It had been their favorite
amusement when they were children to discover and invent new methods of
corresponding with each other, of which only they possessed the secret.
'There, mamma,' Mabel would say, with a laugh, giving me one of my dear
Eustace's letters from college, 'read that!' But it might as well have
been written in Greek for anything that I could make of it. Words and
figures were jumbled together, without any meaning in them that I could
discover, and the entire page was a perfect puzzle. Then Mabel would
take the letter from me, and read it off as easily as possible; and I
remember her saying once, 'If Eustace and I ever have any real secrets,
mamma, we shall be able to tell them to each other through the post,
without any person in the world being one bit the wiser.' Little did
I think that the time would arrive when her words would bear a fatal
meaning."
Eustace, then, being at college, and Mabel at home, it unfortunately
happened that the lad fell into evil ways. He got mixed up with bad
companions. The hours that should have been employed in study were
wasted in gambling and dissipation, and his career at college was by no
means creditable. His father had set his heart upon Eustace obtaining
honors at Oxford, and he was sorely and bitterly disappointed when
the reports of his son's proceedings reached him. Unfortunately these
reports did not come to his ears until much mischief had been done, and
it was at about this time that Eustace returned home, declaring that he
would never go back to college.
At about this time, also, momentous events were occurring in Mabel's
life. A beautiful girl, with an amiable and sweet disposition, with
most winning ways, and with a wealthy father moving in a good social
position, it was not to be wondered at that she had suitors for her
hand; but there were only two whose affection for her was regarded
seriously by the family. One of these was Mr. Edward Layton, the other
Mr. Archibald Laing.
Mabel's father favored the suit of Archibald Laing; Mabel's uncle,
the gentleman who was upon the jury in the trial, favored the suit of
Edward Layton. He was never weary of sounding the young man's praises,
and it may be that this rather strengthened Mabel's father against
Edward Layton. However, the young lady had decided for herself. She
had given her heart to Edward Layton, and there grew between them an
absorbing and devoted attachment.