Kitabı oku: «The Nine of Hearts», sayfa 5

"Yes," replied Dr. Daincourt, "I recognize the strength of your theory-unless, indeed, you had in your mind the idea that it would be better to throw suspicion upon a third person; say, for the sake of argument, upon the maid."

"That view," said the lawyer, "demolishes itself, for what I would naturally do to divert suspicion from myself, a third person would naturally do to avert suspicion from him or herself."

"True," said Dr. Daincourt; "you seize vital points more readily than I. Have you any theory about the strange lady who accompanied Layton home from Prevost's Restaurant?"

"I have a theory upon the point," replied the lawyer, "which, however, at present is so vague and unsatisfactory that it would be folly to disclose it."

"And the Nine of Hearts," said Dr. Daincourt, "you have not mentioned that lately-have you forgotten it?"

"No," said the lawyer, "it is my firm opinion that round that Nine of Hearts the whole of the mystery revolves."

PART THE THIRD
THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS

"From Mr. Bainbridge, Q. C., to Archibald Laing, Esq.

"Dear Sir, – Last night I received your cable from Pittsburg, and sent you a message in reply, accepting the commission with which you have been pleased to intrust me. This morning I called upon Messrs. Morgan & Co., Bankers, Threadneedle Street, and learned from them that they were prepared to advance me the ten thousand dollars of which you advised me. I drew upon them for that amount, and received from them a notification that they would honor my further drafts upon them the moment they were drawn. I asked them whether, in the event of my desiring to draw say five thousand pounds, I was at liberty to do so. They said yes, for even a larger amount if I required it. I did not explain to them the reason of my asking the question, but I will do so to you. It has happened, in difficult cases, that information has had to be purchased, and that a bribe more or less tempting has had to be held out to some person or persons to unlock their tongues. I have no reason to suppose that anything of the sort will be necessary in this case, but I wish to feel myself perfectly free in the matter. I am satisfied with your bankers' replies, and I shall spare neither money nor exertion in the endeavor to unravel the mystery which surrounds the death of Mrs. Edward Layton.

"It is scarcely possible you can be aware of it, but it is nevertheless a fact that, apart from my professional position in this matter, I take in it an interest which is purely personal, and that my sympathies are in unison with your own. Were it not that I have had some knowledge of Mr. Layton, and that I esteem him, and were it not that I firmly believe in his innocence, I should, perhaps, have hesitated to engage myself in his case, and you will excuse my saying that your liberal views upon the subject of funds might have failed to impress me. It is, therefore, a matter of congratulation that I enlist myself on Mr. Layton's side as much upon personal as upon professional grounds. The time has been too short for anything yet to be done, but it will be a satisfaction to you to learn that I have a slight clew to work upon. It is very slight, very frail, but it may lead to something important. Your desire for a full and complete recital of my movements shall be complied with, and I propose, to this end, and for the purpose of coherence and explicitness, to forward the particulars to you from time to time, not in the form of letters, but in narrative shape. This mode of giving you information will keep me more strictly to the subject-matter, and will be the means of avoiding digression. After the receipt, therefore, of this letter, what I have to say will go forth under numbered headings, not in my own writing, but in that of a short-hand reporter, whom I shall specially employ. I could not myself undertake such a detailed and circumstantial account as I understand it is your desire to obtain. Besides, it will save time, which may be of great value in the elucidation of this mystery.

"I am, dear sir, faithfully yours,

"HORACE BAINBRIDGE."

I

What struck me particularly in your cable message was that portion of it in which you made reference to a Mr. James Rutland. It happens, singularly enough, that this Mr. James Rutland was on the jury, and that he was the one juryman who held out in Mr. Layton's favor, and through whose unconquerable determination not to bring him in guilty has arisen the necessity for a new trial. Eleven of the jury were for a conviction, one only for an acquittal-this one, Mr. Rutland.

The first thing to ascertain was his address, which you could not give me. However, we have engines at our hand whereby such small matters are easily arrived at, and on the evening of the day after the arrival of your cable message I was put in possession of the fact that Mr. Rutland lives in Wimpole Street. I drove there immediately, and sent up my card.

"I have called upon you, Mr. Rutland," I said, "with respect to Mr. Edward Layton's case, in the hope that you may be able to give me some information by which he may be benefited."

Mr. Rutland is a gentleman of about sixty years of age. He has a benevolent face, and I judged him, and I think judged him correctly, to be a man of a kindly nature. Looking upon him, there was no indication in his appearance of a dogged disposition, and I lost sight for a moment of the invincible tenacity with which he had adhered to his opinion when he was engaged upon the trial with his fellow-jurymen. However, his conduct during this interview brought it to my mind.

"It is a thousand pities," he said, in response to my opening words, "that Mr. Layton refused to accept professional assistance and advice. I was not the only one upon the jury who failed to understand his reason for so doing."

"It is indeed," I observed, "inexplicable, and I am in hopes that you may be able to throw some light upon it. I have come to you for assistance."

"I can give you no information," was his reply; "I cannot assist you."

"May I speak to you in confidence?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "although I have nothing to tell. To any but a gentleman of position I should refuse to enter into conversation upon this lamentable affair; and, indeed, it will be useless for us to converse upon it. As I have already said, I have nothing to tell you."

This iteration of having nothing to say and nothing to tell was to me suspicions, not so much from the words in which the determination was conveyed as from the tone in which they were spoken. It was flurried, anxious, uneasy; a plain indication that Mr. James Rutland could say something if he chose.

"Speaking in confidence," I said, taking no outward notice of his evident reluctance to assist me, "I think I am right in my conjecture that you believe in Mr. Layton's innocence."

"I decline to say anything upon the matter," was his rejoinder to this remark.

"We live in an age of publicity," I observed, without irritation; "it is difficult to keep even one's private affairs to one's self. What used to be hidden from public gaze and knowledge is now exposed and freely discussed by strangers. You are doubtless aware that it is known that there were eleven of the jury who pronounced Mr. Layton guilty, and only one who pronounced him innocent."

"I was not," he said, "and am not aware that it is known."

"It is nevertheless a fact," I said, "and it is also known that you, Mr. Rutland, are the juryman who held out in Mr. Layton's favor."

"These matters should not be revealed," he muttered.

"Perhaps not," I said, "but we must go with the age in which we live. Mr. Layton's case has excited the greatest interest. The singular methods he adopted during so momentous a crisis in his life, and the unusual termination of the judicial inquiry, have intensified that interest, and I have not the slightest doubt that there will be a great deal said and written upon the subject."

"Which should not be said and written," muttered Mr. Rutland.

"Neither have I the slightest doubt," I continued, "that your name will be freely used, and your motives for not waiving your opinion when eleven men were against you freely discussed. We are speaking here, if you will allow me to say so, as friends of the unfortunate man, and I have no hesitation in declaring to you that I myself believe in his innocence."

He interrupted me.

"Then, if you had been on the jury, you would not have yielded to the opinions of eleven, or of eleven hundred men?"

He spoke eagerly, and I saw that it would be a satisfaction to him to obtain support in his view of the case.

"I am not so sure," I said "our private opinion of a man when he is placed before his country charged with a crime has nothing whatever to do with the evidence brought against him. Let us suppose, for instance, that you have been at some time or other, under more fortunate circumstances, acquainted with Mr. Layton."

"Who asserts that?" he cried, much disturbed.

"No person that I am aware of," I replied. "I am merely putting a case, and I will prove to you presently that I have a reason for doing so. Say, I repeat, that under more fortunate circumstances you were acquainted with Mr. Layton, and that you had grown to esteem him. What has that purely personal view to do with your functions as a juryman?"

"Mr. Bainbridge," he said, "I do not wish to be discourteous, but I cannot continue this conversation."

"Nay," I urged, "a gentleman's life and honor are at stake, and I am endeavoring to befriend him. I am not the only one who is interested in him. There are others, thousands of miles away across the seas, who are desirous and anxious to make a sacrifice, if by that sacrifice they can clear the honor of a friend. See, Mr. Rutland, I will place implicit confidence in you. Last night I received a cable from America, from Mr. Archibald Laing."

"Mr. Archibald Laing!" he cried, taken by surprise. "Why, he and Mr. Layton were-"

But he suddenly stopped, as though fearful of committing himself.

"Were once friends," I said, finishing the sentence for him, and, I was certain, finishing it aright. "Yes, I should certainly say so. Read the cable I received." And I handed it to him.

At first he seemed as if he were disinclined, but he could not master his curiosity, and after a slight hesitation he read the message but he handed it back to me without remark.

"Mr. Archibald Laing," I said, "as I dare say you have heard or read, is one of fortune's favorites. He left this country three or four years ago, and settled in America-where, I believe, he has taken out letters of naturalization-and plunged into speculation which has made him a millionaire. No further evidence than his cable message is needed to prove that he is a man of vast means. Why does he ask me to apply to you for information concerning Mr. Layton which I may probably turn to that unhappy gentleman's advantage?"

"I was but slightly acquainted with Mr. Laing," said Mr. Rutland. "He and I were never friends. I repeat once more that I have nothing to tell you."

I recognized then that I was in the presence of a man who, whether rightly or wrongly, was not to be moved from any decision at which he had arrived, and I understood thoroughly the impossible task set before eleven jurymen to win him over to their convictions.

"Can I urge nothing," I said, "to induce you to speak freely to me

"Nothing," he replied.

I spent quite another quarter of an hour endeavoring to prevail upon him, but in the result I left his house no wiser than I had entered it, except that I was convinced he knew something which he was doggedly concealing from me. I did not think it was anything of very great importance, but it might at least be a clew that I could work upon, and I was both discouraged and annoyed by his determined attitude.

On the following morning, having paved the way to further access to Mr. Edward Layton, I visited the unhappy man in his prison. He was unaffectedly glad to see me, and he took the opportunity of expressing his cordial thanks for the friendliness I had evinced towards him. I felt it necessary to be on my guard with him, and I did not, thus early, make any endeavor to prevail upon him to accept me as his counsel in the new trial which awaited him. There were one or two points upon which I wished to assure myself, and I approached them gradually and cautiously.

"Are you aware," I said, "of the extent of the disagreement among the jury?"

"Well," he replied, "we hear something even within these stone walls. I am told that eleven were against me and one for me."

"Yes," I said, "that is so."

"A bad lookout for me when I am tried again. Mr. Bainbridge," he said, "it is very kind of you to visit me here, and I think you do so with friendly intent."

"Indeed," I said, "it is with friendly intent."

"Is it of any use," he then said, "for me to declare to you that I am innocent of the horrible charge brought against me?"

"I don't know," I said, "whether it is of any use or not, because of the stand you have taken, and seem determined to take."

"Yes," he said, "upon my next trial I shall defend myself, as I did on my last. I will accept no legal assistance whatever. Still, as a matter of interest and curiosity-looking upon myself as if I were somebody else-tell me frankly your own opinion."

"Frankly and honestly," I replied, "I believe you to be an innocent man."

"Thank you," he said, and I saw the tears rising in his eyes.

"Do you happen," I said, presently, "to know the name of the juryman who was in your favor?"

"No," he replied, "I am quite ignorant of the names of the jurymen."

"But they were called over before the trial commenced."

"Yes, that is the usual course, I believe, but I did not hear their names. Indeed, I paid no heed to them. Of what interest would they have been to me? Twelve strangers were twelve strangers; one was no different from the other."

"They were all strangers to you?" I asked, assuming a purposed carelessness of tone.

"Yes, every one of them."

"And you to them?"

"I suppose so. How could it have been otherwise?"

"But when they finally came back into court, and the foreman of the jury stated that they could not agree, you seemed surprised."

"Were you watching me?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Do you not think it natural," I said, in reply, "that every person's eyes at that moment should be turned upon you?"

"Of course," he said, recovering himself-"quite natural. I should have done the same myself had I been in a better place than the dock. Well, I was surprised; I fully anticipated a verdict of guilty."

"And," I continued, "although you may not remember it, you leaned forward and gazed at the jury with an appearance of eagerness."

"I remember that I did so," he said; "it was an impulsive movement on my part."

"Did you recognize any among them whose face was familiar to you?"

"No; to tell you the truth, I could not distinguish their faces, I am so short-sighted."

"But you had your glasses hanging round your neck. Why did you not use them?"

It amazed me to hear him laugh at this question. It was a gentle, kindly laugh, but none the less was I astonished at it.

"You lawyers are so sharp," he said, "that there is scarcely hiding anything from you. Be careful what questions you ask me, or I shall be compelled" – and here his voice grew sad-"to beg of you not to come again."

I held myself well within control, although his admonition startled me, for I had it in my mind to ask him something concerning the surprise he had evinced when the Nine of Hearts was produced from the pocket of his ulster; and I had it also in my mind to ask him whether he was acquainted, either directly or indirectly, with Mr. James Rutland. His caution made me cautious; his wariness made me wary; I seemed to be pitted against him in a friendly contest in which I was engaged in his interests and he was engaged against them.

"I will be careful," I said; "you must not close your door against me, although it is, unhappily, a prison door. I am here truly as a sympathizing friend. Look upon me in that light, and not in the light of a professional man."

"You comfort me," he said. "Although I may appear to you careless and indifferent, you know well enough it is impossible that I can be so; you know that I must be tearing my heart out in the terrible position in which I have been forced by ruthless circumstance. Make no mistake I am myself greatly to blame for what has occurred. It has been folioed upon me by my sense of honor and right and truth. Why, life once spread itself before me with a prospect so glad, so beautiful, that it almost awed me! But, after all, if a man bears within him the assurance that he is doing what he is in honor bound to do, surely that should be something! There-you see what you have forced from me. Yes, I did look eagerly forward when I heard that the jury could not agree. At least there was one man there who believed me to be innocent, and without the slightest knowledge of him I blessed him for the belief."

He gazed round with the air of a man who was fearful that every movement he made was watched and observed by enemies, and then he said, in a low tone,

"I need a friend."

I replied, instantly, following the tone that he had used, "I am here; I will be your friend."

"It is a simple service I require," he said; "I have a letter about me which I wish to be posted. What it contains concerns no one whom you know. It is my affair and mine only, and rather than make it another man's I would be burned at the stake, though we don't live in such barbarous times;" and then he added, with a sigh, "But they are barbarous enough."

"I will post the letter for you," I said. He looked me in the face, a long, searching, wistful look, and as he gazed, I saw in his eyes a nobility of spirit which drew me as close to him in sympathy and admiration as I had sever been drawn in my life to any man.

"Dare I trust you?" he said, still preserving his low tone. "But if not you, whom can I trust?"

"You may trust me," I said; "I will post the letter for you faithfully."

"Not close to the prison," he said. "Not in this district. Put it into a pillar-box at some distance from this spot."

"I will do as you desire."

"Honestly and honorably?" he said.

"Honestly," I responded, "and honorably, as between man and man."

"You are a good fellow," he said, "I will trust you. I can never hope to repay yon, but one day, perhaps, you may live to be glad that you did me even this slight service." And he slipped the letter into my hand, which I as secretly slipped into my pocket. Then I said,

"May I come to see you again?"

"Do. You have lightened the day for me-and many a day in addition to this!"

Soon afterwards I left him. I was honorably careful in the carrying out of his directions. I did not take the letter from my pocket until I was quite three miles from the prison, and then I put it into a pillar-box but before I deposited it there, I looked at the address. Layton had not extracted a promise from me that I should not do so, and I will not say, therefore, whether, if he had, I should have violated it. I was engaged, against his will and wish, in his vital interests, and I might have broken such a promise however that may be, my surprise was overwhelming when I saw that his letter was addressed to "Miss Mabel Rutland, 32 Lavender Terrace, South Kensington."

Rutland! Why, that was the name of the one juryman who had held out upon Layton's trial, and from whom I had vainly endeavored to obtain some useful information! Of all the cases I have been engaged in, this promised to be not only the most momentous, but the most pregnant and interesting. Rutland! Rutland! Had it been a common name, such as Smith or Jones, I might not have been so stirred. It was no chance coincidence. I was on the track, and with all the powers of my intellect I determined to carry it to a successful issue.

Cable message from Mr. Bainbridge, London, to Mr. Archibald Laing, U. S.

"Who is Miss Mabel Rutland, and is there any relationship between her and Mr. James Rutland? Also, in what relation does she stand to Edward Layton? Can you give me any information respecting the Nine of Hearts?"

Cable message from Mr. Archibald Laing, U S., to Mr. Bainbridge, London.

"Miss Mabel Rutland is the niece of Mr. James Rutland. She and Mr. Edward Layton were once engaged to be married. The breaking off of the engagement caused great surprise, as they were deeply in love with each other. I do not understand your reference to the Nine of Hearts."

Cable message from Mr. Bainbridge to Mr. Archibald Laing.

"The Nine of Hearts I refer to is a playing-card. I have reasons for asking."

Cable message from Mr. Archibald Laing to Mr. Bainbridge.

"I know nothing whatever concerning the Nine of Hearts."