Mr. Gryce grimly assented.
“A letter which, from the drop of blood observable on the written side, must have been lying face up on Mr. Leavenworth’s table at the time of the murder—”
“Just so.”
“And from the uniformity in width of each of these pieces, as well as their tendency to curl up when left alone, must first have been torn into even strips, and then severally rolled up, before being tossed into the grate where they were afterwards found.”
“That is all good,” said Mr. Gryce; “go on.”
“The writing, so far as discernible, is that of a cultivated gentleman. It is not that of Mr. Leavenworth; for I have studied his chirography too much lately not to know it at a glance; but it may be—Hold!” I suddenly exclaimed, “have you any mucilage handy? I think, if I could paste these strips down upon a piece of paper, so that they would remain flat, I should be able to tell you what I think of them much more easily.”
“There is mucilage on the desk,” signified Mr. Gryce.
Procuring it, I proceeded to consult the scraps once more for evidence to guide me in their arrangement. These were more marked than I expected; the longer and best preserved strip, with its “Mr. Hor” at the top, showing itself at first blush to be the left-hand margin of the letter, while the machine-cut edge of the next in length presented tokens fully as conclusive of its being the right-hand margin of the same. Selecting these, then, I pasted them down on a piece of paper at just the distance they would occupy if the sheet from which they were torn was of the ordinary commercial note size. Immediately it became apparent: first, that it would take two other strips of the same width to fill up the space left between them; and secondly, that the writing did not terminate at the foot of the sheet, but was carried on to another page.
Taking up the third strip, I looked at its edge; it was machine-cut at the top, and showed by the arrangement of its words that it was the margin strip of a second leaf. Pasting that down by itself, I scrutinized the fourth, and finding it also machine-cut at the top but not on the side, endeavored to fit it to the piece already pasted down, but the words would not match. Moving it along to the position it would hold if it were the third strip, I fastened it down; the whole presenting, when completed, the appearance seen on the opposite page.
“Well!” exclaimed Mr. Gryce, “that’s business.” Then, as I held it up before his eyes: “But don’t show it to me. Study it yourself, and tell me what you think of it.”
“Well,” said I, “this much is certain: that it is a letter directed to Mr. Leavenworth from some House, and dated—let’s see; that is an h, isn’t it?” And I pointed to the one letter just discernible on the line under the word House.
“I should think so; but don’t ask me.”
“It must be an h. The year is 1875, and this is not the termination of either January or February. Dated, then, March 1st, 1876, and signed——”
Mr. Gryce rolled his eyes in anticipatory ecstasy towards the ceiling.
“By Henry Clavering,” I announced without hesitation.
Mr. Gryce’s eyes returned to his swathed finger-ends. “Humph! how do you know that?”
“Wait a moment, and I’ll show you”; and, taking out of my pocket the card which Mr. Clavering had handed me as an introduction at our late interview, I laid it underneath the last line of writing on the second page. One glance was sufficient. Henry Ritchie Clavering on the card; H——chie—in the same handwriting on the letter.
“Clavering it is,” said he, “without a doubt.” But I saw he was not surprised.
“And now,” I continued, “for its general tenor and meaning.” And, commencing at the beginning, I read aloud the words as they came, with pauses at the breaks, something as follows: “Mr. Hor—Dear—a niece whom yo—one too who see—the love and trus—any other man ca—autiful, so char——s she in face fo——conversation. ery rose has its——rose is no exception———ely as she is, char——tender as she is, s—————pable of tramplin———one who trusted——heart——————. —————————— him to——he owes a——honor——ance.
“If———t believe —— her to——cruel——face,—— what is——ble serv——yours
“H———tchie”
“It reads like a complaint against one of Mr. Leavenworth’s nieces,” I said, and started at my own words.
“What is it?” cried Mr. Gryce; “what is the matter?”
“Why,” said I, “the fact is I have heard this very letter spoken of. It is a complaint against one of Mr. Leavenworth’s nieces, and was written by Mr. Clavering.” And I told him of Mr. Harwell’s communication in regard to the matter.
“Ah! then Mr. Harwell has been talking, has he? I thought he had forsworn gossip.”
“Mr. Harwell and I have seen each other almost daily for the last two weeks,” I replied. “It would be strange if he had nothing to tell me.”
“And he says he has read a letter written to Mr. Leavenworth by Mr. Clavering?”
“Yes; but the particular words of which he has now forgotten.”
“These few here may assist him in recalling the rest.”
“I would rather not admit him to a knowledge of the existence of this piece of evidence. I don’t believe in letting any one into our confidence whom we can conscientiously keep out.”
“I see you don’t,” dryly responded Mr. Gryce.
Not appearing to notice the fling conveyed by these words, I took up the letter once more, and began pointing out such half-formed words in it as I thought we might venture to complete, as the Hor—, yo—, see—utiful——, har——, for——, tramplin——, pable——, serv——.
This done, I next proposed the introduction of such others as seemed necessary to the sense, as Leavenworth after Horatio; Sir after Dear; have with a possible you before a niece; thorn after its in the phrase rose has its; on after trampling; whom after to; debt after a; you after If; me ask after believe; beautiful after cruel.
Between the columns of words thus furnished I interposed a phrase or two, here and there, the whole reading upon its completion as follows:
“—————— House.” March 1st, 1876.
“Mr. Horatio Leavenworth; Dear Sir:
“(You) have a niece whom you one too who seems worthy the love and trust of any other man ca so beautiful, so charming is she in face form and conversation. But every rose has its thorn and (this) rose is no exception lovely as she is, charming (as she is,) tender as she is, she is capable of trampling on one who trusted her
heart a
him to whom she owes a debt of honor a ance
“If you don’t believe me ask her to her cruel beautiful face what is (her) humble servant yours:
“Henry Ritchie Clavering.”
“I think that will do,” said Mr. Gryce. “Its general tenor is evident, and that is all we want at this time.”
“The whole tone of it is anything but complimentary to the lady it mentions,” I remarked. “He must have had, or imagined he had, some desperate grievance, to provoke him to the use of such plain language in regard to one he can still characterize as tender, charming, beautiful.”
“Grievances are apt to lie back of mysterious crimes.”
“I