"The key of which is in her room?"
"Yes."
"Bring down the desk and the key. Ask me no questions concerning my motives. I am in hopes that I shall be able to discover the true cause of your daughter's illness, and that will enable me to adopt towards her the only treatment by which it is possible she can recover."
Mrs. Rutland brought down the desk and the key. In the mother's presence Dr. Daincourt opened the desk. There were in it no letters from Edward Layton, but it contained two of what Mrs. Rutland called the mystery-letters which Eustace was in the habit of writing to his sister. These letters were in their envelopes, the post-marks upon which indicated their order of delivery.
Dr. Daincourt could make nothing of them, and Mrs. Rutland could not assist him. They were written upon small single sheets of note-paper, and appeared to be a perfect jumble of incomprehensible words; around the margin of these words were a number of figures and alphabetical letters as incomprehensible as themselves. Searching further in the desk, he made a startling discovery--three playing-cards, each of them being the Nine of Hearts. He asked Mrs. Rutland--who appeared to be almost as startled as he was himself by the discovery--whether she could give him any explanation of the cards, and she said that she could not. Then Dr. Daincourt said that he would take the playing-cards and the letters away with him.
"At the same time," he observed to Mrs. Rutland, "if it is any consolation to you, I undertake your daughter's case, and will do the best for her that lies within my skill and power."
He then went to see Miss Rutland in her bed, wrote out a prescription, gave certain instructions, and left the house.
"I have come to you," said Dr. Daincourt to me, "with these letters and the playing-cards; I will leave them with you. You said that the Nine of Hearts was a tangible link in the chain of Edward Layton's innocence. Is it not most mysterious and strange that three of these identical cards should be found in Miss Rutland's desk, and that one should be found in the pocket of Edward Layton's ulster which he wore on the 25th of March? Does not this circumstance, in conjunction with what you now know of Mabel Rutland's movements on that night, go far to prove that the lady whom Edward Layton met in Bloomsbury Square was none other than his old sweetheart? Heaven knows what conclusions are to be drawn from the coincidence. I will make no comments indeed, I almost tremble to think of the matter. Your legal mind will, perhaps, enable you to deduce something from Eustace's letter to his sister which may be of service to you and Edward Layton. To me they are simply incomprehensible. Before I visit Miss Rutland to-morrow I will call on you. You may have something to say to me. I sincerely trust I shall not be the means of bringing fresh trouble upon her and hers."
With that he wished me good-night, and I was left alone. I set myself sedulously to the task of discovering the key to these mysterious letters. Dr. Daincourt had not opened the two sealed letters which had arrived during Miss Rutland's illness, and I did not immediately do so. I felt a delicacy with respect to Edward Layton's letter to the young lady which he had given me in prison to post for him. I put them aside, and selecting the first of the two letters from Eustace Rutland which had been found in Mabel's desk (judging from the post-marks on their envelopes which of the two she had first received, for they bore no date), I devoted myself to a study of it. This is an exact copy of the singular communication, the size of the paper and the arrangement of the words, and of the figures and alphabetical letters, being faithfully followed:
