The Nine of Hearts

"Well," were his first words, "have you made anything of the letters which I left with you last night?"

"I was employed only upon one," I said, "which kept me up until six o'clock this morning. I don't begrudge the time or the labor, because I have discovered the clew to Master Eustace Rutland's communications to his sister."

"That means," said Dr. Daincourt, excitedly, "that you have discovered the mystery of the Nine of Hearts."

"In so far," I replied, "as respects the playing-cards found in Miss Rutland's desk-yes, I have discovered that part of the mystery; but I have not yet discovered the mystery of the particular Nine of Hearts which was found in the pocket of Edward Layton's ulster."

I showed Dr. Daincourt the result of my labors on the previous night, and he was delighted and very much interested, but presently his face became clouded.

"I am still disturbed," he said, "by the dread that the task you are engaged upon may bring Miss Rutland into serious trouble."

"I hope not," was my rejoinder to the remark, "but I shall not allow considerations of any kind to stop me. Edward Layton is an innocent man, and I intend to prove him so."

"If he is innocent," said Dr. Daincourt, "then Miss Rutland must also be innocent."

"Undoubtedly," I said, with a cheerful smile, which did much to reassure the worthy doctor.

"Have you opened the two sealed letters," asked Dr. Daincourt, "which I brought from Mrs. Rutland's house?"

"No," I replied. "I have devoted myself only to the first of the opened letters found in Miss Rutland's desk. I shall proceed immediately with the second, and then I shall feel myself warranted in opening and reading the letters which arrived for Miss Rutland during her illness. By-the-way, doctor, I have had a singular dream, and upon your entrance I was endeavoring to track it. It was a dream of ladies' hands, covered with rings."

"Any bodies attached to the hands?" inquired Dr. Daincourt, jocosely.

"No; simply hands. They seemed to pass before my vision, and to rise up in unexpected places pretty, shapely hands. But it was not so much the hands that struck me as being singular as the fact that they were covered with rings of one particular kind."

"What kind?"

"I must have seen thousands of rings upon the shapely fingers, and there was not one that was not set with diamonds and turquoises."

A light came into Dr. Daincourt's face.

"And you mean to tell me that you can't discover the connection?"

"No I can't for the life of me discover it."

"That proves," said Dr. Daincourt, "how easy it is for a man engaged upon a serious task to overlook important facts which are as plain as the noonday sun."

"What facts have I overlooked, doctor?"

"Have you the newspapers in the room containing the reports of the trial?"

"Give me the one containing the report of the third day's proceedings?"

I handed it to him, and he ran his eyes down the column in which the evidence of the waiter in Prevost's Restaurant was reported.

"The waiter was asked," said Dr. Daincourt, "whether the lady who accompanied Edward Layton were married, and whether there were rings upon the lingers of her ungloved hand?"

"Yes, yes," I cried, "I remember! And the waiter answered that she wore a ring of turquoises and diamonds. Of course-of course. That explains my dream."

"Yes," said Dr. Daincourt, "that explains it."

"I need no further assurance," I said, "to prove that it was Miss Rutland who was in Edward Layton's company on the night of the 25th of March, but I wish you to ask her mother whether the young lady possesses such a ring, and is in the habit of wearing it. Your face is clouded again, doctor. You fear that I am really about to bring trouble upon Miss Rutland. You are mistaken I am working in the cause of justice. If I prove Edward Layton to be innocent, no shadow of suspicion can rest upon Miss Rutland. You must trust entirely to me. Can you not now understand why Edward Layton refused to be defended by a shrewd legal mind? He would not permit a cross-examination of any of the witnesses which would bring the name of Mabel Rutland before the public. To save her honor, to protect her from scandal and calumny, he is ready to sacrifice himself. He shall not do so. I will prevent it. Your patient is in a state of delirium, you tell me. She knows nothing of what passes around her, she recognizes no one, she has not heard of the peril in which Edward Layton stands. Say that she remains in this state of ignorance until Edward Layton is sentenced and hanged for a crime which he did not commit-say, then, that she recovers and hears of it-reads of it-why, she will go mad! It would be impossible for her to preserve her reason in circumstances so terrible. There is a clear duty before us, Dr. Daincourt, and we must not shrink from it. I need not urge upon you to use your utmost skill to restore Mabel Rutland to health, and to the consciousness of what is passing around her. If before Edward Layton is put again upon his trial I do not clear him, I shall not hesitate to make some kind of appeal to Miss Rutland which, even should she remain delirious, shall result in favor of the man who is so nobly and rashly protecting her good name."

"Remember," said Dr. Daincourt, gravely, "that she is in great danger."

"You man that she may die soon?"

"Yes."

"But not suddenly?" I asked, in alarm.

"I think not suddenly."

"Still," I said, "there is a chance of her being restored to health?"

"Yes, there is a chance of it."

"If the worst happens," I said, "is it likely that she would recover consciousness before her death?"

"It is almost certain that she would."

"Then it would be necessary," I said, "to take her dying deposition. Doctor, it is my firm conviction that the man and the woman who entered Edward Layton's house after midnight on the 25th of March were not Edward Layton and Mabel Rutland."

"But the coachman drove them home!" exclaimed Dr. Daincourt.

"So he said."

"And took them from Prevost's Restaurant."

"So he said. Recall that part of the coachman's evidence bearing upon it. He says that Edward Layton, accompanied by a lady, issued from the restaurant at five minutes to twelve; that Layton appeared excited; which he, the coachman, attributed to the fact of his having taken too much wine. To rebut this we have the evidence of the waiter, who declared that Layton simply tasted the wine that was ordered. He could not have drunk half a glass. The man and the woman who came from the restaurant jumped quickly into the carriage, and but one word, 'Home!' was uttered in a thick voice. Now, Layton, in his ridiculously weak cross-examination, put two questions to the witness. 'Did it occur to you,' he asked, 'or does it occur to you now, that the voice which uttered that word was not my voice?' The witness replied that it had not occurred to him. Then Layton said, 'You are certain it was my voice?' And the witness replied, 'Yes, sir.' To me, these two questions put by Layton are convincing proof that it was not he who entered the carriage from Prevost's Restaurant."

"But he wore his ulster," said Dr. Daincourt.

"Here, again," I said, "we have evidence which, to my mind, is favorable. The waiter testifies that when Layton entered the room in which the supper was ordered he took off his ulster and hung it on a peg in the wall, at some distance from the table at which he sat. Moreover, he sat with his back to the coat. Layton, in his cross-examination, asked the waiter, 'Did I put the overcoat on before I left the room?' The waiter replied, 'Yes.' The judge intervened with the rebuke, 'You have said in examination that you did not see the prisoner and his companion leave the room.' And the witness replied, 'But when I returned, after being away for three or four minutes, monsieur was gone, and the coat was also gone.' The prisoner put his last question to the waiter, 'You did not see me put on the overcoat?' And the witness answered, 'No.' Doctor, I see light. Bring me news of the ring set with turquoises and diamonds. I shall be at home the whole of the evening."

After Dr. Daincourt's departure I made a hurried breakfast, went through my correspondence, and resumed my task of examining Eustace Rutland's letters to his sister. The second opened communication was exactly of the same shape and form as the first which I had deciphered. I give here an exact copy of it:

The notation of the nine figures, representing the nine pips in the playing-card, in Eustace's first communication, was 6, 2, 7, 3, 9, 1, 4, 5, 8. Taking as my guide the alphabetical letter A, I found that the notation in Eustace Rutland's second communication was 3, 6, 1, 5, 2, 9, 4, 8, 7. I placed the playing-card, with its pips cut out, over the paper, and the following was revealed:

"Of-street-at-night-chester corner o'clock-nine-Tuesday."

Arranging these words according to the new notation of figures, they formed this sentence:

"At corner of Chester Street Tuesday night nine o'clock."

"Now," thought I, "this may have been an appointment."

If so-and nothing was more likely-I could derive no assistance from it. It conveyed no information, and contained nothing which would assist me in my inquiries. It was very likely that I should light upon something further, and I proceeded with my task. The figure immediately following the alphabetical letter A was 12, which meant, if I were on the right track, that the second sentence in this communication was composed of twelve words. I followed the same process I had previously employed, and the twelve words formed themselves thus: