Before commencing an account of what has been done, and what discovered, I cannot refrain from writing one sentence. Success has crowned our efforts.
There is no need here to minutely describe our proceedings on Monday and Tuesday. Sufficient to say that I was in constant communication with Fowler--who As a most trustworthy fellow, and shrewd to the tips of his nails--and that I had occasion on Tuesday to again assume my disguise. On Tuesday night I saw Dr. Daincourt, and was glad to learn from him that there was an improvement in Miss Rutland's condition.
"Due," he observed, "in a great measure to certain assurances I imparted to her in a voice so distinct and cheerful as to impress itself upon her fevered imagination."
"That is good news," I said. "You are administering what she requires--medicine for the mind."
I come now at once to the account of one of the most exciting days--the Derby Day of 1885--I have ever passed through. Fowler was in my house at seven o'clock in the morning, and brought with him a suit of clothes which he wished me to wear. He had forewarned me that he intended to make a change in his own appearance, and I was therefore not surprised when he presented himself in the guise of a well-to-do farmer who had come to London to see the Derby.
"Miss White is going, sir," he said, "and we are going, too. I have been living in the house with her these last two days, and it is important that she should not recognize me. I have a piece of satisfactory information for you. It is an even bet that before this day is out I bring you face to face with Mr. Eustace Rutland."
"If you do," said I, "you will lose nothing by it. Bring me into the same room as that young man, and I will wring from him what I desire to know."
"Don't get excited, sir," said Fowler. "Keep cool. You have had a good night's rest, I hope?"
"Yes, I slept well."
"That's right. Make a hearty breakfast, as I am going to do. We shall need all our strength. It is going to be a heavy day for us."