The chain goes on in endless round,
Its motions slow or fast—
But every link is firmly bound
Twixt present and the past.
For several days after his experiment with that little vial Dr. Seward was too ill to more than raise his head from the pillow. He was a large, portly man and the continued nausea from that sickish odor completely prostrated him.
He would not disclose the cause of his illness to any one, consequently the wildest rumors floated about among his friends and patients and almost every affliction in the calendar, from apoplexy to measles, was ascribed to him. Weeks passed and, although fully restored to health, the sensations he had experienced could never be quite[Pg 169] erased from his memory, and although he frequently awoke in the morning with the grim determination to again examine that brownish powder, night invariably found him as ignorant of its constituents as a good, wholesome fear could make him.
In a moment of almost unprecedented mischief he labeled the bottle with the words "Death to the Inquisitive" and laid it carefully away in a private drawer.
But now that Stella and Sir Frederic was married and they and Mrs. Sinclair were so happily settled over across the water, his desire to penetrate the mystery of Maurice Sinclair's identity returned with all its force.
The bottle was his only clue and that a very unsatisfactory one, as the one found in Stella's room was empty when discovered. He could not compare the contents, so what was the use of risking another journey to the land of spirits, he argued.
But at last science prevailed, and determined not to again defy the enemy alone, he put the vial in his pocket and ordering his carriage drove[Pg 170] swiftly to Guy's Hospital to ask the assistance of his friend, the Superintendent of that Institution, in his perilous undertaking. Dr. Seward related to his friend the particulars of his first experiment and with the unassuming vial between them, they consulted long and earnestly on the best method of attack.
The powder was inflammable in air and must therefore be protected. The first step was to test its solubility, so drawing a small quantity of water from the Burette into an Erhlenmeyer flask, Dr. Seward carefully removed the cork and placing the necks of the two bottles together succeeded in shaking a small quantity of the powder into the water. Then the vial was recorked and set carefully away. The powder did not dissolve and the experimenter waved the flask gently back and forth over the flame of a Bunsen burner while his friend retired to another room to complete a little experiment that he was working on when Dr. Seward arrived.
A moment after, he reentered holding a smoking tube in each hand.
"Well how is it?" he enquired, interestedly, as[Pg 171] he looked about anxiously for a stand to place his test tubes in.
"Insoluble in water," was the answer as Dr. Seward held the flask to the light and scrutinized the particles which were floating, apparently uninjured, in the almost boiling water.
"See here, Doctor," said the Superintendent desperately, "You have more hands than I, just now; Do you mind stepping into the office and bringing me that paper on reactions? You will find it right in my desk."
Dr. Seward rose immediately and passed into the office. Standing by the open desk with the flask raised high in one hand, with the other he turned over a pile of papers in the somewhat disordered receptacle.
At last he saw one, wrinkled and stained, and feeling sure that its demoralized condition was received through the spatters from an evaporating dish or the careless handling of re-agents, only, he unfolded it, and shaking his glasses down upon his nose by a clever movement of the head, glanced carefully over its contents.
[Pg 172]
"Can't you find it?" called his friend from the Laboratory.
But Dr. Seward did not answer.
The Superintendent found his tube stand, and depositing his work in safety, started for the office to assist in the search for the required paper. The two men met in the doorway. For an instant the amazed Superintendent thought his staid and venerable friend had taken leave of his senses, or that the unknown substance he was analyzing had developed some heretofore undiscovered ingredient and the excitement of Dr. Seward's face was promptly reflected on his own.
"What is it?" he asked excitedly,—"What has happened?"
"Where did you get that?" was the doctor's extraordinary reply as he held before his eyes a stained and wrinkled Marriage Certificate.
"That?" said the Superintendent, "let's see, where did I get that?" and he took the paper in his hand and glanced thoughtfully over its contents.
"Ah,—I remember, the Gardener found it by the front gate a year or two ago and I saved it[Pg 173] thinking I would try and find the owner, but some way, it has slipped my mind altogether. But why are you so interested?" he asked, suddenly. "Do you know the parties?"
"I think I do," was Dr. Seward's reply. "Let me take this for a day or two, Doctor," he said, "and I may be able to clear up a sad mystery by means of it."
"Certainly, but come, tell me about it. You have aroused my curiosity."
Thinking there could be no harm, the physician told him the entire story only leaving out his suspicions and Lady Van Tyne's name from the narrative altogether.
The Superintendent was greatly interested, and as the same Gardener was still employed on the premises, he sent for him and requested the particulars of the discovery and the date as near as he could recall it.
Fortunately, as another matter of more importance to the Gardener occurred on the very day of his finding the paper, he was able to readily supply the exact date, and reference to the Hospital books showed plainly that a young women,[Pg 174] enceinte and unconscious, had been found by Dr. Jennings and admitted to the wards that same morning.
One of the nurses recalled her perfectly and mentioned the fact of her being drenched to the skin when found. Her description of the young woman tallied exactly with the picture of Elizabeth Merril which the Doctor had seen at the house in G—— St. Remembering that the only clue upon which the supposed suicide had been identified, was the finding of her shawl upon the bridge, he questioned the nurse further and ascertained the fact that the suffering woman was without a shawl and that the nurse had herself provided one on the afternoon of the patient's departure.
Satisfied that Elizabeth Merril was not only an injured wife and mother, but a living, suffering woman, the now thoroughly interested physician took possession of the paper, and after ascertaining the whereabouts of the officiating clergyman by means of a directory, drove immediately to his address.
The analysis of the brownish powder was for the time forgotten.
Dr. Seward had little difficulty in finding the reverend gentleman of his search, and as briefly as possible he explained his errand, then laying the water stained paper before him, he waited with almost bated breath for the proof of its validity.