“Were the shutters closed?” he asked Miss Trelawny in a casual way as
though he expected the negative answer, which came. All this time Doctor Winchester was attending to his patient; now
dressing the wounds in the wrist or making minute examination all over
the head and throat, and over the heart. More than once he put his
nose to the mouth of the senseless man and sniffed. Each time he did
so he finished up by unconsciously looking round the room, as though in
search of something. Then we heard the deep strong voice of the Detective:

“So far as I can see, the object was to bring that key to the lock of
the safe. There seems to be some secret in the mechanism that I am
unable to guess at, though I served a year in Chubb’s before I joined
the police. It is a combination lock of seven letters; but there seems
to be a way of locking even the combination. It is one of Chatwood’s;
I shall call at their place and find out something about it.”  Then
turning to the Doctor, as though his own work were for the present
done, he said:

“Have you anything you can tell me at once, Doctor, which will not
interfere with your full report? If there is any doubt I can wait, but
the sooner I know something definite the better.”  Doctor Winchester
answered at once:

“For my own part I see no reason in waiting. I shall make a full
report of course. But in the meantime I shall tell you all I
know—which is after all not very much, and all I think—which is less
definite. There is no wound on the head which could account for the
state of stupor in which the patient continues. I must, therefore,
take it that either he has been drugged or is under some hypnotic
influence. So far as I can judge, he has not been drugged—at least by
means of any drug of whose qualities I am aware. Of course, there is
ordinarily in this room so much of a mummy smell that it is difficult
to be certain about anything having a delicate aroma. I dare say that
you have noticed the peculiar Egyptian scents, bitumen, nard, aromatic
gums and spices, and so forth. It is quite possible that somewhere in
this room, amongst the curios and hidden by stronger scents, is some
substance or liquid which may have the effect we see. It is possible
that the patient has taken some drug, and that he may in some sleeping
phase have injured himself. I do not think this is likely; and
circumstances, other than those which I have myself been investigating,
may prove that this surmise is not correct. But in the meantime it is
possible; and must, till it be disproved, be kept within our purview.”
Here Sergeant Daw interrupted:

“That may be, but if so, we should be able to find the instrument with
which the wrist was injured. There would be marks of blood somewhere.”

“Exactly so!” said the Doctor, fixing his glasses as though preparing
for an argument. “But if it be that the patient has used some strange
drug, it may be one that does not take effect at once. As we are as
yet ignorant of its potentialities—if, indeed, the whole surmise is
correct at all—we must be prepared at all points.”

Here Miss Trelawny joined in the conversation:

“That would be quite right, so far as the action of the drug was
concerned; but according to the second part of your surmise the wound
may have been self-inflicted, and this after the drug had taken effect.”

“True!” said the Detective and the Doctor simultaneously. She went on:

“As however, Doctor, your guess does not exhaust the possibilities, we
must bear in mind that some other variant of the same root-idea may be
correct. I take it, therefore, that our first search, to be made on
this assumption, must be for the weapon with which the injury was done
to my Father’s wrist.”

“Perhaps he put the weapon in the safe before he became quite
unconscious,” said I, giving voice foolishly to a half-formed thought. “That could not be,” said the Doctor quickly. “At least I think it
could hardly be,” he added cautiously, with a brief bow to me. “You
see, the left hand is covered with blood; but there is no blood mark
whatever on the safe.”

“Quite right!” I said, and there was a long pause. The first to break the silence was the Doctor. “We shall want a nurse here as soon as possible; and I know the very
one to suit. I shall go at once to get her if I can. I must ask that
till I return some of you will remain constantly with the patient. It
may be necessary to remove him to another room later on; but in the
meantime he is best left here. Miss Trelawny, may I take it that
either you or Mrs. Grant will remain here—not merely in the room, but
close to the patient and watchful of him—till I return?”

She bowed in reply, and took a seat beside the sofa. The Doctor gave
her some directions as to what she should do in case her father should
become conscious before his return. The next to move was Superintendent Dolan, who came close to Sergeant
Daw as he said:

“I had better return now to the station—unless, of course, you should
wish me to remain for a while.”

He answered, “Is Johnny Wright still in your division?”

“Yes! Would you like him to be with you?”  The other nodded reply. “Then I will send him on to you as soon as can be arranged. He shall
then stay with you as long as you wish. I will tell him that he is to
take his instructions entirely from you.”

The Sergeant accompanied him to the door, saying as he went:

“Thank you, sir; you are always thoughtful for men who are working with
you. It is a pleasure to me to be with you again. I shall go back to
Scotland Yard and report to my chief. Then I shall call at Chatwood’s;
and I shall return here as soon as possible. I suppose I may take it,
miss, that I may put up here for a day or two, if required. It may be
some help, or possibly some comfort to you, if I am about, until we
unravel this mystery.”

“I shall be very grateful to you.”  He looked keenly at her for a few
seconds before he spoke again. “Before I go have I permission to look about your Father’s table and
desk? There might be something which would give us a clue—or a lead
at all events.”  Her answer was so unequivocal as almost to surprise
him. “You have the fullest possible permission to do anything which may help
us in this dreadful trouble—to discover what it is that is wrong with
my Father, or which may shield him in the future!”

He began at once a systematic search of the dressing-table, and after
that of the writing-table in the room. In one of the drawers he found
a letter sealed; this he brought at once across the room and handed to
Miss Trelawny. “A letter—directed to me—and in my Father’s hand!” she said as she
eagerly opened it. I watched her face as she began to read; but seeing
at once that Sergeant Daw kept his keen eyes on her face, unflinchingly
watching every flitting expression, I kept my eyes henceforth fixed on
his. When Miss Trelawny had read her letter through, I had in my mind
a conviction, which, however, I kept locked in my own heart.