The Nine of Hearts

II

The information you give me in your cable that Miss Mabel Rutland and 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.

While these matters were in progress, both Archibald Laing and Edward Layton were admitted freely to the house, and thus they had equal chances. But when the lady whom two men are in love with makes up her mind, the chances are no longer equal. It was not without a struggle that Archibald Laing abandoned his pretensions. From what afterwards transpired, he could not have loved Mabel with less strength than Edward Layton did. It was no small sacrifice on his part to relinquish his hopes of winning Mabel for his wife, more especially when her father was on his side. There were interviews of an affecting nature between him and Mabel. There were interviews, also, between him and Edward Layton. The two men had been friends long before they came into association with Mabel Rutland, and it speaks well for the generosity and nobility of their natures that this affair of the heart-the like of which has been the cause of bitter feuds from time immemorial-did not turn their friendship into enmity. In the estimate of their characters at this period Archibald Laing showed the higher nobility, for the reason that it devolved upon him to make a voluntary and heart-rending sacrifice. He informed the young lady's parents that he gave up all hope of obtaining their daughter's hand, and at the same time he declared that if it ever lay in his power to render Mabel or Edward Layton a service, he would not hesitate to render it, whatever might be the cost. Nobly has he redeemed this pledge.

He suffered much-to such an extent, indeed, that he determined to leave the country, and find a home in another land. He bade the Rutlands farewell by letter, and sailed for America, where he settled, and realized an amazing fortune.

The field was thus left free for Mabel and Edward. Mr. Rutland was seriously displeased. He had been thwarted in a wish that was very dear to him, and he was not the kind of man to forget the defeat. Although Edward Layton was allowed to come to the house, Mr. Rutland received him without favor, and it was only upon the imploring and repeated solicitations of his wife and daughter that he consented to an engagement between the young people. It was a half-hearted consent, and caused them some unhappiness. More than once he declared in their presence, and in the presence of his wife, that if anything ever occurred which would cast the slightest shadow of doubt or dishonor upon Edward Layton, no power on earth should induce him to allow the marriage to take place. It was not necessary for him to impress upon them that, above everything else in the world, he was jealous of his good name. They knew this well enough, and were in a certain sense proud in the knowledge, because the stainless reputation he bore reflected honor upon themselves. But they did not see the cloud that was hanging above them. It gathered surely and steadily, and brought with it terrible events, in the whirlpool of which the happiness of Mabel and Edward was fated to be ingulfed.

The cause lay not in themselves. It lay in Eustace Rutland. It was he who was responsible for all.

He was in London, in partial disgrace with his father. He was without a career; he had already contracted vicious and idle habits; he was frequently from home; and although his father questioned him severely, he would give no truthful account of his movements and proceedings. Some accounts he did give, but his father knew instinctively that they were false or evasive. As he could obtain no satisfaction from his son, Mr. Rutland, aware of the perfect confidence which existed between Eustace and Mabel, applied to her for information; but she would not utter one word to her brother's hurt. Her father could extract nothing from her, and there gradually grew within him an idea that there was a conspiracy against him in his own home, a conspiracy in which Edward Layton was the principal agent. It was natural, perhaps, that he should think more hardly of this stranger than of his own children.

Had he set a watch upon his son, he might have made discoveries which would have been of service to all, and which might have averted terrible consequences. But proud and self-willed as he was, it did not occur to him to do anything which in his view savored of meanness. His son Eustace went his way, therefore, to sure and certain ruin. When he was absent from home he corresponded regularly with his sister, and Mr. Rutland sometimes demanded to see this correspondence.

"You can make nothing of it, papa," said Mabel. "Eustace and I do not correspond like other people."

He insisted, nevertheless, upon seeing these letters, and Mabel showed them to him. As he could not understand them, he demanded that she should read them intelligibly to him; but it being a fact that there was always something in Eustace's correspondence which would deepen his father's anger against him, the young girl refused to read them. This, as may be supposed, did not tend to pacify Mr. Rutland. It intensified the bitterness of his heart towards those whom he believed were conspiring against him. He applied to Edward Layton.

"You are in my daughter's confidence," he said to the young man, "and as you have wrung from me a reluctant consent to an engagement with her, I must ask you to give me the information which she withholds from me."

He met with another rebuff. Edward Layton declared that he would it violate the confidence which Mabel had reposed in him. At one time Mr. Rutland said to Edward Layton,

"My son has been absent from home for several days. Have you seen him?"

"Yes, sir," replied Edward, "I have seen him."

But he would say nothing further.

He was in a most painful position. Mabel had extracted from him a solemn promise that he would reveal nothing without her consent, and he was steadfastly loyal to her. He had another reason for his silence, and, in the light of that reason, and of the feelings which Mr. Rutland harbored towards him, he felt that the happiness he hoped would be his was slipping from him.