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?"