Amongst
the suspicions in the mind of the Detective was one, rather perhaps
potential than definite, of Miss Trelawny herself. For several minutes Miss Trelawny held the letter in her hand with her
eyes downcast, thinking. Then she read it carefully again; this time
the varying expressions were intensified, and I thought I could easily
follow them. When she had finished the second reading, she paused
again. Then, though with some reluctance, she handed the letter to the
Detective. He read it eagerly but with unchanging face; read it a
second time, and then handed it back with a bow. She paused a little
again, and then handed it to me. As she did so she raised her eyes to
mine for a single moment appealingly; a swift blush spread over her
pale cheeks and forehead. With mingled feelings I took it, but, all said, I was glad. She did
not show any perturbation in giving the letter to the Detective—she
might not have shown any to anyone else. But to me.... I feared to
follow the thought further; but read on, conscious that the eyes of
both Miss Trelawny and the Detective were fixed on me. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,  I want you to take this letter as an
instruction—absolute and imperative, and admitting of no deviation
whatever—in case anything untoward or unexpected by you or by others
should happen to me. If I should be suddenly and mysteriously stricken
down—either by sickness, accident or attack—you must follow these
directions implicitly. If I am not already in my bedroom when you are
made cognisant of my state, I am to be brought there as quickly as
possible. Even should I be dead, my body is to be brought there. Thenceforth, until I am either conscious and able to give instructions
on my own account, or buried, I am never to be left alone—not for a
single instant. From nightfall to sunrise at least two persons must
remain in the room. It will be well that a trained nurse be in the
room from time to time, and will note any symptoms, either permanent or
changing, which may strike her. My solicitors, Marvin & Jewkes, of 27B
Lincoln’s Inn, have full instructions in case of my death; and Mr.
Marvin has himself undertaken to see personally my wishes carried out. I should advise you, my dear Daughter, seeing that you have no relative
to apply to, to get some friend whom you can trust to either remain
within the house where instant communication can be made, or to come
nightly to aid in the watching, or to be within call. Such friend may
be either male or female; but, whichever it may be, there should be
added one other watcher or attendant at hand of the opposite sex. Understand, that it is of the very essence of my wish that there should
be, awake and exercising themselves to my purposes, both masculine and
feminine intelligences. Once more, my dear Margaret, let me impress on
you the need for observation and just reasoning to conclusions,
howsoever strange. If I am taken ill or injured, this will be no
ordinary occasion; and I wish to warn you, so that your guarding may be
complete. “Nothing in my room—I speak of the curios—must be removed or
displaced in any way, or for any cause whatever. I have a special
reason and a special purpose in the placing of each; so that any moving
of them would thwart my plans. “Should you want money or counsel in anything, Mr. Marvin will carry
out your wishes; to the which he has my full instructions.”

          “ABEL TRELAWNY.”


I read the letter a second time before speaking, for I feared to betray
myself. The choice of a friend might be a momentous occasion for me. I had already ground for hope, that she had asked me to help her in the
first throe of her trouble; but love makes its own doubtings, and I
feared. My thoughts seemed to whirl with lightning rapidity, and in a
few seconds a whole process of reasoning became formulated. I must not
volunteer to be the friend that the father advised his daughter to have
to aid her in her vigil; and yet that one glance had a lesson which I
must not ignore. Also, did not she, when she wanted help, send to
me—to me a stranger, except for one meeting at a dance and one brief
afternoon of companionship on the river? Would it not humiliate her to
make her ask me twice? Humiliate her! No! that pain I could at all
events save her; it is not humiliation to refuse. So, as I handed her
back the letter, I said:

“I know you will forgive me, Miss Trelawny, if I presume too much; but
if you will permit me to aid in the watching I shall be proud. Though
the occasion is a sad one, I shall be so far happy to be allowed the
privilege.”

Despite her manifest and painful effort at self-control, the red tide
swept her face and neck. Even her eyes seemed suffused, and in stern
contrast with her pale cheeks when the tide had rolled back. She
answered in a low voice:

“I shall be very grateful for your help!”  Then in an afterthought she
added:

“But you must not let me be selfish in my need! I know you have many
duties to engage you; and though I shall value your help highly—most
highly—it would not be fair to monopolise your time.”

“As to that,” I answered at once, “my time is yours. I can for today
easily arrange my work so that I can come here in the afternoon and
stay till morning. After that, if the occasion still demands it, I can
so arrange my work that I shall have more time still at my disposal.”

She was much moved. I could see the tears gather in her eyes, and she
turned away her head. The Detective spoke:

“I am glad you will be here, Mr. Ross. I shall be in the house myself,
as Miss Trelawny will allow me, if my people in Scotland Yard will
permit. That letter seems to put a different complexion on everything;
though the mystery remains greater than ever. If you can wait here an
hour or two I shall go to headquarters, and then to the safe-makers. After that I shall return; and you can go away easier in your mind, for
I shall be here.”

When he had gone, we two, Miss Trelawny and I, remained in silence. At
last she raised her eyes and looked at me for a moment; after that I
would not have exchanged places with a king. For a while she busied
herself round the extemporised bedside of her father. Then, asking me
to be sure not to take my eyes off him till she returned, she hurried
out. In a few minutes she came back with Mrs. Grant and two maids and a
couple of men, who bore the entire frame and furniture of a light iron
bed. This they proceeded to put together and to make. When the work
was completed, and the servants had withdrawn, she said to me:

“It will be well to be all ready when the Doctor returns. He will
surely want to have Father put to bed; and a proper bed will be better
for him than the sofa.”  She then got a chair close beside her father,
and sat down watching him. I went about the room, taking accurate note of all I saw. And truly
there were enough things in the room to evoke the curiosity of any
man—even though the attendant circumstances were less strange.