The second inclosure contains, as I suppose, a wedding present. It is carefully sealed—it feels no bigger than an ordinary letter—and it contains an inscription which your highly-cultivated intelligence may be able to explain. I copy it as follows:
“To be inclosed in another envelope, addressed to Mr. Dunboyne the elder, at Percy’s Private Hotel, London, and delivered by a trustworthy messenger, on the day when Mr. Philip Dunboyne is married to Miss Eunice Gracedieu. Placed meanwhile under the care of Miss Selina Jillgall.”
Why is this mysterious letter to be sent to Philip’s father? I wonder whether that circumstance will puzzle you as it has puzzled me.
I have kept my report back, so as to send you the last news relating to Philip’s state of health. To my great regret, his illness seems to have made a serious advance since yesterday. When I ask if he is in pain, he says: “It isn’t exactly pain; I feel as if I was sinking. Sometimes I am giddy; and sometimes I find myself feeling thirsty and sick.” I have no opportunity of looking after him as I could wish; for Helena insists on nursing him, assisted by the housemaid. Maria is a very good girl in her way, but too stupid to be of much use. If he is not better to-morrow, I shall insist on sending for the doctor.
He is no better; and he wishes to have medical help. Helena doesn’t seem to understand his illness. It was not until Philip had insisted on seeing him that she consented to send for the doctor.
You had some talk with this experienced physician when you were here, and you know what a clever man he is. When I tell you that he hesitates to say what is the matter with Philip, you will feel as much alarmed as I do. I will wait to send this to the post until I can write in a more definite way.
Two days more have passed. The doctor has put two very strange questions to me.
He asked, first, if there was anybody staying with us besides the regular members of the household. I said we had no visitor. He wanted to know, next, if Mr. Philip Dunboyne had made any enemies since he has been living in our town. I said none that I knew of—and I took the liberty of asking what he meant. He answered to this, that he has a few more inquiries to make, and that he will tell me what he means to-morrow.
For God’s sake come here as soon as you possibly can. The whole burden is thrown on me—and I am quite unequal to it.
I received the doctor to-day in the drawing-room. To my amazement, he begged leave to speak with me in the garden. When I asked why, he answered: “I don’t want to have a listener at the door. Come out on the lawn, where we can be sure that we are alone.”