"As you say, all were searched. The first was Mr. Thauret. Nothing was found. Let us suppose a case. This man Thauret was in the same carriage with the woman Rose Mitchel. When the train stopped at New Haven, suppose that he took the satchel, left the train and passed it to you through the window of your section, thinking that only his carriage would be searched. After his own examination, he left the train at Stamford. Why may he not have tapped upon your window and have received back the satchel?"
"That would make him my accomplice. You are wrong. I do not know the man at all."
"You admitted having met him when Miss Dora Remsen introduced him to you."
"Once only. At a gaming table. That is why I was displeased to see him in the home of my intended. Passing the robbery then, for despite my denial you may think your explanation correct, and a jury might agree with you, let us come to the murder. Do you suppose a man would make a wager to commit a crime, and then go to the extreme of killing a woman."
"I do not! But having committed the robbery, and then having discovered that this woman, who you say has blackmailed you, had actually taken an apartment in the same building with your affianced, you may have gone there to urge her to leave, and have killed her to save yourself."
"Plainly you do not know me. There is one point in what you say which is interesting. Did I understand that this woman had an apartment in the Thirtieth Street building."
"Certainly, and you knew it."
"You are mistaken. Let us return to the jewels. You think that these are the missing gems. If I prove to the contrary, will you agree not to place me under arrest?"
"With pleasure," said the detective, feeling safe in the idea that what Mr. Mitchel offered to do was an impossibility.
"Thank you. That gives me my freedom, in exchange for which courtesy I promise you all the assistance in my power in finding the murderer." Saying which Mr. Mitchel touched an electric-button and when it was answered sent a message up-stairs asking Mr. Charles tocome down. In a few moments, that gentleman appeared.
"Mr. Charles," said Mr. Mitchel, "would it be possible for me to enter these vaults without your knowledge?"
"It would be impossible for any one to enter here without my knowledge," said Mr. Charles.
"You keep my key, do you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have I ever taken it out of this building."
"No, sir."
"Then you think it impossible that I should have been able to have a duplicate key, and to have entered here without your knowledge?"
"An utter impossibility, sir."
"Can you remember when I was here last?"
"Certainly. It was about two weeks ago, when you told me that you were going to Boston."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Charles. That is all." Mr. Charles retired and Mr. Mitchel looked at Mr. Barnes with a smile, saying:
"You see you are wrong again. The jewels were stolen yesterday morning, and I have not been to this place since, and therefore could not have placed them in this box. Are you satisfied?"
"No. If you were able to commit the robbery on the train, whilst I watched your section all night, and to have succeeded in getting the jewels away although you were searched, you are ingenious enough to have found a way of getting here without the knowledge of Mr. Charles.Or, he may be paid to lie for you. I feel too sure that these are the gems, to be so readily convinced to the contrary."
"So you did watch me that night. Well, I am sorry you had so much trouble. I must give you further proof? Very good. Examine these." He took out a package of letters and from them extracted a bill-of-sale, dated five years previous, in which was once more an accurate description of the jewels and case. In addition there was pinned to it a receipt from the New York Custom House for the duties paid, which paper was also dated back. This was evidence which Mr. Barnes could not refute. Plainly this particular set of jewels belonged to Mr. Mitchel.
"That is sufficient. It would be folly to arrest you when you could show those documents to any judge and be released. At the same time, I shall not forget the coincidence of these two lists, and that one of the button."
"By the way, Mr. Barnes, would you mind saying where you found that button?"
"In the room where the woman was murdered."
"No wonder you valued it. I am surprised that you should have presented it to Miss Remsen." There was a twinkle in Mr. Mitchel's eye which annoyed Mr. Barnes, but he made no reply. Mr. Mitchel continued:
"In consideration of your not placing me under arrest, Mr. Barnes, I will give you a hint. I made that wager with my friend Randolph yesterday morning, that is tosay December 2d. I have until January 2d, to commit the crime about which the bet was made. Should you come to the conclusion that I am not guilty of either of those now engaging your attention, it might enter your head that I still have a crime on hand, and it might pay you to watch me. Do you catch the idea?"
"There is little danger of your committing any crime during the next month without my knowing of it," said Mr. Barnes.
"Now let us change the subject. Do you see this ruby?" taking a large ruby from the case before them. "I am thinking of having it set as a present to Miss Remsen. Will she not be envied when she wears it?"
Upon leaving the vaults Mr. Mitchel and the detective parted company, the former going down to Tiffany's where he left the ruby with instructions as to how he wished it set. On the following morning Wilson's report to Mr. Barnes stated that Mr. Mitchel had spent the afternoon at the Union League Club, and had accompanied hisfiancéeto a private ball in the evening.
On the morning of the 5th, as Mr. Mitchel was dressing, a card was brought to him which bore the name of his friend, Mr. Randolph, and that gentleman a few minutes later entered. Mr. Mitchel was cordial in his greeting and extended his hand, but Mr. Randolph refused it saying:
"Excuse me, Mitchel, but I have come to see you about that wager I was stupid enough to make with you."
"Well, what of it!"
"I did not suppose that you would go so far."
"So far as what?"
"Why haven't you read the papers?"
"No! I never do! I am above that class of literature."
"Then with your permission I will read one to you."
"Go ahead, I am all attention." Mr. Mitchel seated himself in his most comfortable armchair, and Mr. Randolph without removing his overcoat, sat in another. Taking a morning paper from his pocket he read the following:
"The inquest upon the body of the mysterious woman found murdered in the Thirtieth Street apartment-house was resumed yesterday at the coroner's office. Mr. Barnes, the well-known detective, testified that he had been upon the Boston Express at the time of the robbery of the jewels. That he had an interview with the woman at which she gave the name Rose Mitchel, and made an appointment with him at her residence. He called at the time agreed upon, nine o'clock on the morning of the 3d, and discovered her lying in bed with her throat cut. One singular fact brought out by the detective's testimony is that the woman's name had been deliberately cut from every garment. This may indicate that Rose Mitchel is an assumed name.
"The doctors who performed the autopsy, declare it as their opinion that the woman was attacked whilst she slept. Otherwise there would have been more blood stains found, as the jugular vein and carotid artery were both cut. They think that the assassin used an ordinary pocket knife, because the wound though deep, is not very large.
"A curious story was obtained from the janitor. The woman Mitchel had been in the house about three weeks. She was not a tenant, but occupied the apartments ofMr. and Mrs. Comstock, who are absent in Europe. The woman gave him a letter purporting to be written by Mrs. Comstock, instructing the janitor to allow the bearer to occupy the apartment until suited elsewhere, and also asking that the janitor's wife would see that she had proper attendance. The janitor did not doubt the authenticity of the letter, but it now appears from the testimony of a relative of the Comstocks, who is well acquainted with Mrs. Comstock's writing, that this letter is a forgery.
"After a little further evidence of no special importance the inquest was adjourned until to-day. It is plain that the detectives are all at sea in this case. A startling piece of evidence has now been obtained by a reporter which may serve as a clue. It is no less than the discovery of the lost jewels. It will be remembered that Mr. Barnes was on the train, and ordered that the passengers should be searched. Nothing was found, from which it seemed safe to presume that there were two persons connected with the theft. One of these secured the plunder and handed it through a window of the car to his accomplice outside. A reporter went over the route yesterday, beginning his investigation in New Haven. He went the rounds of the hotels, endeavoring to discover if any suspicious person had been noticed in the city. At one of the last which he visited, which is about five minutes walk from the railroad depot, the clerk remembered a man who did act strangely. It seems that this man came into the hotel at about noon on the third, registered, asked that his satchel should be placed in the safe, went out and had notreturned since. The reporter at once guessed that this was the missing satchel, and so stating, the chief of police was sent for, and in his presence it was opened. In it was found a red Russia leather case containing unset jewels of such size and lustre that one can well believe that they are worth a hundred thousand dollars as claimed. That these are the missing gems is plainly indicated by the fact that the jewel-case has the name of MITCHEL stamped upon it. Unfortunately there was nothing about the satchel, or in it, which gives any clue to the thief himself. The clerk, however, remembers him distinctly, and from his description the detectives hope soon to have him under lock and key."
"What have you to say to that, Mitchel?"
"Why, it is just that kind of thing that made me give up reading the newspapers. A sensational description of a mysterious robbery and murder. Yet if one reads the papers he must submit to that almost every day."
"Do you mean that this particular case has no interest to you?"
"Why should it interest me? Because I happened to be on the train and was compelled to submit to being searched by an order from a blundering detective?"
"There is more reason than that for attracting your attention. Any man with a grain of sense, and with the knowledge of your wager, must see your hand in this?"
"In which, the robbery, or the murder?"
"My God, I don't know. You and I have been the best of friends ever since we first met. I have stood byyou and believed in you in spite of all that your enemies have said against you. But now——"
"Well?"
"Well, I don't know what to think. You bet me that you would commit a crime. In a few hours there is a robbery, and a little later a woman is killed in the very house where the Remsens lived. It is known,—there is another account in another paper here—it is known that you were in that house for an hour, after 11:30 at night, and that whilst you were there a woman was heard to scream from that apartment where the corpse was found. Then here they find the jewels, and the case had your name on it."
"The woman's name you mean. The paper made that deduction I think."
"That is true. I did not think of that. Of course it was her name, but don't you see I am all muddled up and excited. I came here to ask you to say outright that you have had nothing to do with this thing."
"That is impossible."
"What, you refuse? You will not claim that you are innocent? Then you practically admit that you are guilty!"
"I do not. I neither deny nor admit anything. Do you remember our wager? I told you then that this crisis would arise. That you would hear of some crime and come to ask me about it. I warned you that I would refuse to enlighten you. I simply keep my word."
This was followed by a silence. Mr. Randolph seemed much disturbed. Jamming his hands into his pockets hewent and looked out of the window. Mr. Mitchel looked at him for some minutes with a smile of amusement hovering about his lips. Suddenly he said:
"Randolph, does your conscience trouble you?"
"Most decidedly!" answered his companion sharply, turning towards him.
"Why not go and unburden your soul to the police?"
"I think it is my duty to do so. But I feel like a coward at the idea. It seems like betraying a friend."
"Ah! You still count me your friend. Then, my dear friend, for I assure you I value your good will, I will show you how to act so as to satisfy your conscience, and yet not injure me."
"I wish to heaven you would."
"Nothing easier. Go to Mr. Barnes and make a clean breast of all that you know."
"But that is betraying you to the police."
"No; Mr. Barnes is not the police—he is only a private detective. If you remember, he is the very one about whom we were talking when the wager was made. You were boasting of his skill. It should satisfy you then to have him on my track, and it will satisfy me, if you agree to talk with no other. Is it a bargain?"
"Yes, since you are willing. I must tell some one in authority. It is impossible for me to withhold what may be the means of detecting a criminal."
Mr. Randolph, upon leaving the hotel, went in search of Mr. Barnes. Meanwhile that gentleman was holding a conversation with Wilson.
"You say," said the detective, "that Mr. Mitchel gave you the slip again yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes. He doubled so often on his tracks on the elevated road that at last he eluded me, getting on a train which I failed to board. You see it was impossible to tell, till the moment of starting, whether he would take a train or not. He would mix with the crowd and seem anxious to get on, and then at the last moment step back. I had to imitate him at the other end of the coach, and finally he got on just as the guard at my end slammed the gates."
"This was at Forty-second Street?"
"Yes. He took the down train."
"Did he notice you in any way?"
"I suppose so; but no one would have guessed it. He appeared entirely ignorant of the fact that he was followed, so far as watching me was concerned."
"You are not to blame. Go back to his hotel, and do the best you can. Leave the rest to me. I will discover where it is he goes on these mysterious trips."
Left to himself Mr. Barnes's thoughts took this form:
"Wilson is no match for Mr. Mitchel, that is evident. I wonder whether there is any real object in this game of hide and seek; or whether it is simply an intimation to me that he cannot be shadowed? If the latter—well, we shall see. Now let me think about those jewels found in New Haven. They tally exactly with the description. Their discovery complicates the case once more. I had almost concluded that those in the safety vaults were the ones stolen, and that as they really belong to Mr. Mitchel,as proven by his receipts, he stole them to win his wager. In this way he ran no risk, since, if the crime were brought home to him, he could not be imprisoned, though he would lose the bet. Now here is another set, evidently the right ones. Mr. Mitchel was plainly surprised at sight of the list which I found. I am sure he did not know of its existence. Therefore he may equally as well have known nothing about this duplicate set of jewels. In that case the occurrence of the train robbery on the very night of the wager, may be simply a coincidence. He says that the dead woman was a blackmailer, and that he gave her the address of his Paris jeweller. May he not have bought his set from that very man, and may not this woman have stolen the duplicate set recently, and brought them to this country? Plainly the Paris jeweller must be looked up. I have his name which I copied from the bill of sale. If this line of argument is true, some one has followed this woman from France, in order to rob her, after allowing her to accomplish the risky business of smuggling. Is that person our friend Thauret? Along this line of argument we arrive at the conclusion that Mr. Mitchel has not yet committed his crime. He hinted that I should remember this if I should exculpate him from those already committed. But do I? Why did he show me that ruby and say that he meant to present it to his sweetheart? Will he give it to her, and then rob her of it? If so, will she be in the plot, and make a hue and cry, so that the papers may make a noise? That was a part of the agreement in making his bet. But after all,what about that button? No explanation explains, which does not throw a light upon that."
Here Mr. Barnes was interrupted by the announcement that Mr. Randolph wished to speak with him. It must be remembered that Mr. Randolph was not aware of the fact that the conversation in the sleeping-car had been overheard. Brought face to face with Mr. Barnes he felt confused, and hesitated.
"Mr. Randolph, I believe," said the detective, glancing at the card which had been sent in. "Be seated. You have come to see me about this Mitchel case?" The rising inflection with which the last word was spoken seemed almost unnecessary to Mr. Randolph. For if the man could ask such a question, he might as well have made it a positive statement. This assumption of knowledge made him more than ever confident of the skill of detectives, and especially of the one before him.
"You know that?" said he. "Would you mind telling me how?"
"We detectives are supposed to know everything, are we not?" This was said with an affable smile, but the answer plainly indicated that Mr. Barnes preferred not to be interrogated. Mr. Randolph therefore concluded to hurry through with his unpleasant business.
"Mr. Barnes, I have a confession to make, and——"
"I must interrupt you, to remind you that whatever you say is unsolicited, and that if you incriminate yourself, the evidence will be used against you."
"Thank you for your warning, but I have come herethat I may not be incriminated. The facts in brief are simply these." Then he narrated as accurately as he could recall them, all the circumstances in connection with the wager. Mr. Barnes listened as though it was all a new story to him. He even jotted down a few notes on a bit of paper as though for reference. At the conclusion he said:
"This is a most astounding tale, Mr. Randolph. It is very difficult to believe that a man like Mr. Mitchel, who certainly seems to be a gentleman, would undertake to become a criminal simply to win a sum of money. Now you must have been thinking this over, and if so, you have some explanation to offer. Would you mind telling it to me?"
"I should be glad to do so," Mr. Randolph spoke eagerly. In his heart he was fond of his friend, and therefore his theory was one which in a measure would excuse him. He was delighted to have the chance of confiding his views to the detective. "You see," he continued, "it is one of the most difficult things in the world to say who is, and who is not perfectly sane. Some experts contend that nine tenths of the people in the world are affected by mania in some form or other. I hold that any man who makes a collection of any kind of things, using them for other than their legitimate uses, is in a measure insane."
"Do you mean legally insane? That is to say irresponsible?"
"As to responsibility, I cannot say. But I think such amania might tempt a man to an illegal act. I must explain my idea further. Postage stamps undoubtedly have a very important value. One who collects them after they have been cancelled, paying many times their face value for them, is in my opinion somewhat crazy, since he pays a fictitious price for what has no intrinsic value."
"You might say the same thing of paintings. The intrinsic value represented in canvas and oil is little, yet thousands of dollars are paid for pictures."
"That, too, is an insanity, one of course which cannot be indulged in by any save the rich. But it is not the same as with the old stamp craze. Pictures remind us of nature, and appeal to the senses of all mankind, by recalling recollections brought into being by the scene presented. There is therefore a legitimate use for paintings, and a reasonable price as compensation for the work and genius of the artist is perhaps permissible. But should a man pay a fortune for a single canvas and then hang it in a room in his own house where it will be seen by few save himself, that man I should consider demented. So with jewels——"
"Ah! What of them?"
"Jewels have a market value, and a place in the world. But when a man goes about buying up every magnificent specimen that can be found, and then locks his treasures up in a safe, he is simply a crazy man pure and simple."
"What has all this to do with the case in hand?"
"Everything. My friend is a crank on the subject of jewels. Sensible, and entertaining on any other topic, ifyou mention the name of any kind of jewel, he is off in a minute, giving a long history of this or that celebrated stone. His especial craze in this connection, is to relate the crimes that have surrounded every stone of any great price. He has made my blood curdle at his ghastly tales of cruel murder, committed to gain possession of diamonds and rubies."
"Then your conclusion is, that by filling his mind with such thoughts he may have accustomed himself to the idea of crime in connection with jewels?"
"Exactly. The worst of it is, that we may become habituated to anything. For instance, all ordinary men are abashed in the presence of the dead. No matter how strong-minded a man may be, or how much he may scoff at the idea of ghosts and the like, he will prefer company if he must sit up with a corpse. More than that, the slightest sound in the room, as the moving of the ice in the ice box, will cause a shiver to pass through him. Yet physicians who study frequently in the dissecting-room, come to have that contempt of a dead body that a butcher has for the meat which he sells."
"Your argument is not bad, Mr. Randolph. It is not impossible that your friend might be generous and gentle, and yet with a mania for the possession of jewels, and with the knowledge of all the crimes that have been committed to gain them, the temptation to kill or steal would perhaps become over-powering, where his passion sees an opportunity to be satisfied. It is an odd world."
"Do you think, that in a case of that kind, the manwould be excusable on the plea of mania? Legally I mean?"
"Well no, I do not! Psychologically I admit that you may be correct, and I can sympathize with a man who became a criminal in such a way. But legally, he would be culpable. At least I think so. The question to be answered is, did your friend steal those jewels? You slept with him that night, what do you think?"
"I don't know what to think. He could not have left the berth without climbing over me, and though I sleep soundly, that ought to have awakened me. Then besides, if he did get out and take the things, where could he have hidden them, and how did they get to New Haven? By the way, I suppose you have the description of the man who left the satchel at the hotel? Does it tally with that of my friend?"
"I can't say. It is rather vague. The clerk says the man was of medium size, with red hair and beard, whilst the porter who saw him also, is equally positive that he had black hair and no beard. The last fits Mr. Mitchel better than the first, but it is a description which would do as well for a thousand men found in a walk along Broadway."
"I almost think that after all the thief is some one else."
"Let us hope so, Mr. Randolph. I will say this much, if there is any comfort in it for you. At present there is not enough evidence against him to warrant his arrest."
The detective said this with a purpose. By relievingthis man's mind, he hoped to make him more communicative. After a pause he asked:
"You have known Mr. Mitchel for a number of years, I believe?"
"No, not more than a year and a half. He has not been in New York two years."
"Oh! I see. A Boston man?"
"No, I think he came from New Orleans."
A curious sensation passed over Mr. Barnes. There is a superstitious belief, much esteemed by many, that a shudder or chill of this character means that some one is walking over the spot where the person affected is to be buried. Therefore an uncanny thought accompanies it. With Mr. Barnes it is different. He is free from all such notions, yet insensibly he is moved when this occurs to him, because it has so often happened that at the time he just hit upon a clew. Therefore he stopped to consider. All that Mr. Randolph had said was that Mr. Mitchel, he thought, had come from New Orleans. In a moment it flashed across Mr. Barnes's mind that the dead woman had told him that she had lived in New Orleans. Was there any significance in this fact? Did the man and the woman know each other in the southern city?
"How do you know that he is a Southerner?" asked Mr. Barnes.
"Oh! That was easily discovered by his accent," replied Mr. Randolph. "Besides he claims to be from the South, though I think he is rather inclined not to speakof his home. I have an indistinct recollection of his telling me once that he was born in New Orleans and that he had some painful recollection of the place. That is the only time that he ever alluded to it, however."
"I would like to ask you a question about another man, Mr. Randolph. I wonder whether you have met him. His name is Thauret?"
"Alphonse Thauret? Yes I know him, and I do not like him."
"Why not?"
"I don't exactly know. Perhaps it is only a prejudice. Still we are apt to form quick estimates of men, and I have distrusted this man from the first instant that I met him."
"Distrusted him?"
"Yes. I may be entirely wrong, and perhaps I should not tell you the story, but I will do so. It was at one of my clubs about two weeks ago. Some gentlemen were playing whist, and this Thauret was of the number. Others were looking on. The stakes were small, still there was money up. Thauret and his partner seemed to have a great deal of luck. Ordinarily of course, two packs are used, but for some reason there was but one that night, so that the bottom card would be the trump. Now it is pretty well known, that as the cards run in whist, each trick containing four of a suit mainly, it is a mathematical certainty that if the pack is shuffled twice only, and the dealer is skilful enough to handle the pack so that the two halves split each other exactly bothtimes, the result will be that the majority of trumps will go to himself and partner. Cutting does not alter this fact at all. Now what I observed was, that Thauret dealt in that way every time. He and his partner won about two hundred dollars during the evening. I think he cheated."
"Who was his partner?"
"I do not know."
"Was Mr. Mitchel present that night?"
"Yes, and agreed with me that the man is a card sharp. Yet of course we may be doing him an injustice. After all, we only know that he shuffled his cards twice, and played in good luck. I have since seen him lose at the same game."
"Well, I am much indebted to you, Mr. Randolph, for the information which you have given me. I will say that if I can prove that your friend had no hand in this affair I shall be most happy."
The detective arose and Mr. Randolph accepted the action as a hint that he was dismissed. After his departure Mr. Barnes sat down again. In his mind he wondered whether this partner in the card game might have been the accomplice of Thauret in the jewel robbery, and whether he was the man who left the jewels in the hotel at New Haven. Why he should have done so however, was a mystery.
A few minutes later Mr. Barnes left the building, and walked rapidly towards Third Avenue, where he took the elevated road, getting out at Seventy-sixth Street.Going eastward a few houses he rang the bell of one, and was shown into a modestly-furnished parlor. A few minutes later a comely young woman of about twenty-four or five entered. The two talked together in low tones for some time, and then the girl left the room returning in street attire. Together they left the house.
Four days later, Mr. Barnes received a note which simply said, "Come up." He seemed to understand it, however, and was quickly on his way to the house on Seventy-sixth Street. Once more the girl joined him in the parlor.
"Well," said Mr. Barnes, "have you succeeded?"
"Why, of course," replied the girl. "You never knew me to make a failure, did you? You don't class me with Wilson, I hope?"
"Never mind about Wilson; tell me your story."
"Very good. Don't be impatient. You know me, I take my own way of doing things. Well, you left me in Madison Square Park. I sat on a bench and watched Wilson. Two hours later a man came out of the hotel and Wilson followed him. It made me laugh to see the gawk skulking along in the rear. He's no artist. Why, any booby could tell in a minute that he was on the trail."
"I told you to omit remarks about Wilson."
"I know, but I choose to tell you about him, because I make you appreciate me more. So there he was chasing after your man Mitchel. You see I have found out his name. You didn't tell me, but that could not trouble me long, you know. It was real fun. One minute Wilson wouldbe actually running to keep up, and all of a sudden Mitchel would stop so short, that Wilson would almost bump into him. Of course he knows Wilson by this time, and just has fun with him. I wanted to get one good square look at him myself. I jumped on a car and reached Third Avenue ahead of them. I ran upstairs to the platform of the elevated station, and hid in the waiting-room. Soon up came Mitchel, and away he goes to the end of the platform. Wilson stopped in the middle and tried to look natural, which of course he didn't. When the train came along, I got aboard and walked through till I found my man and down I sat right opposite to him. I just studied his face, you bet."
"Yes, Miss, and he studied yours. You are a goose, and you disobeyed orders. I told you not to let that keen devil see you at all."
"That's all right. It came out straight enough. At Forty-second Street he got out, and so did Wilson, and so didn't I."
"Why not?"
"Because then he might have suspected me. No, sir; I rode on up to Forty-seventh Street, crossed over, took a train down, and was waiting in the station when Mitchel came along the second time. This time he was alone, evidently having eluded Wilson at Thirty-fourth Street. He took the down train. So did I, this time keeping out of sight. He went straight to his lay, and I after him. It is a house in Irving Place. Here is the number." She handed a card to Mr. Barnes.
"You have done well," said he, taking it, "but why did you not report to me at once?"
"I am not through yet. When I take up a case I go to the end of it. Do you suppose I would track that man, and then let you turn Wilson on him again? Not much. Next day I called at the house and rang the bell. A servant girl opened the door. I asked to see the mistress. She asked what I wanted, and I told her that I had been sent for to take a situation. She looked surprised, because of course she had not been notified that she was to be discharged. I quickly went on to say that I would not like to make her lose her place, and asked what sort of people they were who lived in the house. I got her talking and soon found out that it is a kind of private boarding-school, and that there is a child there, a girl of fourteen named Rose Mitchel, and that your man is her father. How does that strike you?"
"My girl, you are a genius. But still you knew this the day before yesterday. Why did you not report?"
"I went down again yesterday to try to learn more. I sat out in the park and watched the young girls when they came out for an airing. I could not find a chance to speak to the girl, but I found out which is she by hearing the others call her name. I had my camera along, and I took her portrait for you. What do you say now. Have I wasted my time?"
"Not at all. You are clever, but you will never be great, because you are too conceited. However I havenothing but praise for you this time. Get me the picture."
The girl went upstairs and returned with a small, rather dim photograph of a young, pretty girl, and gave it to Mr. Barnes. About half an hour later he left the house.
Two days after the events just related, Emily Remsen's maid announced that she had just received news that her mother was very ill, and that she had been notified to go to her at once. Her mother, she said, lived in Elizabeth, New Jersey. She wished to go at the earliest possible moment, and begged that her cousin, Lucette, should be allowed to attend to her duties till her return, which she hoped would be in a very few days. Asked if her cousin was competent, she said yes, and especially apt at arranging the hair, having served an apprenticeship with a French hair-dresser. Indeed the girl's real name was Lucy, but she had changed it to Lucette, to pretend that being French she was necessarily a good maid.
In Miss Remsen's mind this changing of her name was nothing in the girl's favor; but as her own maid was thus suddenly taken from her, and as this other was offered at once, she agreed to the proposal.
Lucette arrived during the afternoon, and Miss Remsen was delighted with her. Expecting a talkative, intrusive person, assuming Frenchified mannerisms, she was surprised to find a quiet unpretentious creature, who immediately showed herself to be well acquainted with theduties required of her. Within the first twenty-four hours she found herself so much better served than by her absent maid, that she almost wished that the mother would require her for a long time. Dora, too, was charmed with Lucette.
"Queen," said she the next afternoon, "what do you think of your new maid?"
"Who?—Lucette?" answered the sister. "O I think she does very well."
"Does very well? Why, Queen, she is a jewel. If you do not appreciate her, I wish you would bequeath her to me when Sarah returns."
"O ho! So my young miss wants a maid to herself, does she?"
"O no! Not especially, but I want to keep Lucette in the family. She is a treasure. Dressing the hair is not her only accomplishment either, though I never saw yours look more beautiful. She has just arranged the table for our 'afternoon tea,' and I never saw anything like it. It is just wonderful what that girl can do with a napkin in the way of decoration."
"O yes," said Emily, "Lucette is clever; but don't let her know that we think so. It might make her less valuable. Now tell me, Dora dear, who is coming this afternoon?"
"Oh! The usual crush I suppose."
"Including Mr. Randolph?"
"Queen, there is a mystery about him. Let me tell you. In the first place, he has not been here for over aweek, and then yesterday I saw him coming down Fifth Avenue, and, would you believe it? just as I was about to bow to him, he turned down a side street."
"He did not see you, my dear, or he surely would have spoken. He would have been too glad."
"Well, if he did not see me, he must have suddenly contracted near-sightedness; that is all I have to say."
Shortly after, company began to arrive, and very soon the rooms were filled by a crowd which is aptly described by the term used by Dora. One goes to these affairs partly from duty and partly from habit. One leaves mainly from the instinctive sense of self-preservation inherent in all.
Dora was besieged by a number of admirers, and took pleasure in avoiding Mr. Randolph, who was assiduous in his attentions. He seemed anxious to get her off into the seclusion of a corner, a scheme which the young lady frustrated without appearing to do so.
Mr. Thauret was also present, though he did not remain very long. He chatted a short time with Emily on conventional subjects, and then worked his way to the side of Dora, where he lingered longer. He said several pretty things to her, such as she had heard already in different forms from other men, but with just a tone, which seemed to indicate that he spoke from his heart rather than from the mere passing fancy of pleasing. It was very skilfully done. There was so little of it, that no one, certainly not an inexperienced girl like Dora, could suspect that it was all studied. Yet after he had gone,and the company was thinning out, Mr. Randolph found his long-sought opportunity, and sat down for atête-à-têtewith Dora. He began at once.
"Miss Dora, why do you allow a cad like that Frenchman to make love to you?"
"Are you alluding to my friend, Mr. Thauret?" She accentuated the word "friend" merely to exasperate Mr. Randolph, and succeeded admirably.
"He is not your friend. In my opinion, he is nobody's friend but his own."
"That has been said of so many, that it is no new idea."
"But do be serious, Miss Dora. You must not allow this fellow to worm his way into your circle, and more than all, you must not allow him to make love to you."
"You surprise me, Mr. Randolph. I had no idea that Mr. Thauret was making love to me. I could relate everything that he said, and it would scarcely bear out your assumption."
"That is only his cunning. He is too shrewd to speak plainly, so soon"; and yet this young philosopher was not wise enough to see that he was damaging his own cause by putting ideas into the girl's mind which had not yet entered there.
"Why, Mr. Randolph, you are really becoming amusing. You are like Don Quixote fighting windmills. You imagine a condition, and then give me a warning. It is entirely unnecessary, I assure you. Mr. Thauret was not acting in any such way as you impute to him."
"You are not angry with me, I hope. You know what prompted me to speak?"
"No, I fear I am not so clever as you at reading other people's motives."
"But surely you must have guessed that——"
"Guessed what?" Dora looked at him so candidly, that he was abashed. It was his opportunity to declare himself, and he might have done so, had not Mr. Mitchel entered the room at that moment. Seeing him, Mr. Randolph thought of the peculiar position he would be in if his friend should be proven to be a criminal. For this reason he hesitated, and thus lost a chance which did not recur again for a very long time. He replied in a jesting tone, and soon after left the house.
The company had departed. Dora had gone to her own room, leaving Mr. Mitchel and Emily alone together.
"Emily, my Queen," said Mr. Mitchel, taking one of her hands caressingly within both of his, as they sat upon atête-à-têtesofa, "I almost believe that I am dreaming when I think that you love me."
"Why so, Roy?"
"Listen, little woman. I am in an odd mood to-night, and I wish very much to talk to you. May I?"
For answer she touched him lightly, lovingly, on the face with her disengaged hand, and bowed assent.
"Then listen while I make my confession. I am different from other men, much as I count you different from all women. I have met many, in all the capitals ofEurope, and here in my own country. I have never been affected by any, as I was by you. In the first instant of meeting you, I had chosen you for my wife. When I asked for you, I had not the least idea that you would refuse, until having spoken, I saw the bold audacity of my words, and for half an instant the idea lived with me that I was too presumptuous."
"You were not, my Roy. Like you I have passed lovers by, as unaffected as by the ocean breezes. When I met you, I said to myself: 'This is my master.'"
"God bless you, Emily. Let me continue. I have chosen you to be my wife. As heaven is my witness, I shall never deceive you in aught. But,—and this is the hard test which your love must endure—I may be compelled at times to keep you in ignorance of some things. Do you think that your love is great enough to believe that when I do so it is from love of you, that I keep a secret from you?"
"Roy, perhaps this is conceit, but if so, still I say it. A weaker love than mine would say to you, 'I trust you, but I love you so that you need not hesitate to share your secrets with me.' I tell you that I trust you implicitly. That I am content to hear your secrets or not, as your own judgment and love for me shall decide."
"I knew that you would speak so. Had you said less I should have been disappointed. I will tell you then at once, that there is a secret in my life which I have shared with no one, and which I am not willing yet to reveal to you. Are you still content?"
"Do you doubt it? Do you think that I would make an assertion only to draw back from my boast as soon as tried?"
"No, my Queen, but it is asking much to ask a woman to marry whilst there is a secret which cannot be told. Especially when there are those who may believe that there is shame or worse, concealed."
"No one would dare to so misjudge you!"
"Indeed, but you are mistaken. There are those who do not count me as irreproachable as I may seem to you. What if I were to tell you that a detective watches me day and night?"
"Oho? That would not frighten me. You have explained all about your wager. I suppose Mr. Barnes is keeping an eye on you. Is that it?"
"Partly that, and partly because he thinks that I am connected with this murdered woman. To a certain extent he is right."
"You mean that you knew her?"
"Yes." Mr. Mitchel paused to see whether she would ask another question after his admission. But she meant all that she had said when asserting that she trusted him. She remained silent. Mr. Mitchel continued: "Naturally Mr. Barnes is desirous of learning how much I know. There are urgent reasons why I do not wish him to do so. You have it in your power to aid me."
"I will do so!"
"You have not heard what it is that I wish."
"I do not care what it is. I will do it if you ask me."
"You are worthy of my love." He drew her gently towards him, and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I say it not in egotism, for I love you as much as man may. Were you unworthy—I should never love again."
"You may trust me, Roy." Her words were simple, but there was a passion of truth contained in their utterance.
"I will tell you at once, what I wish. For it must be done promptly. You must be ready—Who is that?"
Mr. Mitchel spoke the last two words in a sharp tone, rising from his seat and taking a step forward. The large room was but dimly lighted, the gas having been lowered to please Emily who abhorred well-lighted rooms. At the further end some one was standing, and had attracted Mr. Mitchel's attention. It was Lucette, and she replied at once:
"Your mother sent me to know if you are ready for supper, Miss Emily."
"Say that we will be in, in a few minutes," replied Emily, and Lucette left the room.
"Who is that girl?" asked Mr. Mitchel.
Emily explained how the new maid had been engaged and Mr. Mitchel speaking in a tone louder than was really necessary, said:
"She seems to be a quiet, good girl. Rather too quiet, for she startled me coming in so noiselessly. Shall we go in? What I have to tell you will keep. It is something I wish you to do for me the day after to-morrow."
After supper Mr. Mitchel took the two girls and theirmother to the theatre, much to the delight of the latter, who was always shocked whenever Emily went unattended by achaperone. The party walked going and coming, and as Dora and her mother were ahead, Mr. Mitchel had ample opportunity to explain to hisfiancéethe favor which he wished her to do for him. When leaving the house that night he said:
"You will not see me again for a couple of days. Keep well till then."
Lucette, who had overheard this remark, was, therefore, rather astonished to see Mr. Mitchel walk in the next morning as early as ten o'clock. She was still more surprised to have her mistress announce that she was going out. What puzzled her most of all was that Emily went out alone, leaving Mr. Mitchel in the parlor. In fact this seemed to give her so much food for reflection, that as though struck by the conclusions arrived at, she herself prepared to go out. As she was passing along the hall, however, the parlor door opened and Mr. Mitchel confronted her.
"Where are you going, Lucette?"
"I have an errand to do, sir," she replied with a slight tremor.
"Come into the parlor, first. I wish to speak to you." She felt compelled to obey, and walked into the room, Mr. Mitchel opening the door and waiting for her to pass through. He then followed, after closing the door behind him, locking it and taking the key from the lock.
"Why did you do that?" asked Lucette angrily.
"You forget yourself, Lucette. You are a servant, and good servants such as you have proven that you know how to be, never ask questions. However, I will answer you. I locked the door because I do not wish you to get out of this room."
"I won't be locked in here with you. I am a respectable girl."
"No one doubts it. You need not get excited, I am not going to hurt you in any way."
"Then why have you brought me in here?"
"Simply to keep you here till—well, say till twelve o'clock. That is about two hours. Do you mind?"
"Yes, I do mind. I won't be kept in here alone with you for two hours."
"You amuse me. How will you prevent it?"
Lucette bit her lip, but said nothing. She saw that there was no help for her. She might scream, of course, but Mrs. Remsen and Dora had gone out before Emily. She and Mr. Mitchel were alone in the apartment. She might attract the attention of the janitor, or of people in the street. As this idea occurred to her she glanced toward the window. Mr. Mitchel divined her thoughts in a moment.
"Don't try screaming, Lucette," said he, "for if you do, I will be compelled to gag you. You will find that very uncomfortable for two hours."
"Will you tell me why you wish to keep me here?"
"I thought I did tell you. The fact is, I do not wish you to do that little errand of yours."
"I don't understand you."
"Oh, yes, you do. You are not such a fool as all that. Now, my girl, you may as well bow to the inevitable. Make yourself comfortable till twelve. Read the paper, if you wish. There is an interesting account of the murder case. The woman, you know, who was killed in the flat upstairs. Have you followed it?"
"No, I have not," she replied, snappishly.
"That is strange. Do you know, I took you to be just the person who would have a deep interest in that kind of thing."
"Well, I am not."
For the next two hours not a word passed. Mr. Mitchel sat in a large arm-chair and simply watched the girl with an aggravating smile upon his face. In fact the smile was so aggravating, that after encountering it a few minutes, Lucette did not look at him again, but rivetted her gaze upon the opposite side of the street. At last the clock chimed twelve. Instantly the girl arose.
"May I go now?"
"Yes, Lucette, you may go now—and do your little errand—that is if it is not too late. And by the way, Lucette, Miss Remsen asked me to say to you that she will not need your services after to-day."
"Do you mean that I am discharged?"
"Not exactly that. I said you would not be needed. You see Miss Remsen thinks that you come into and go out of rooms with too little noise. She is very nervous, and it startles her to find you in her presence, without having heard you enter."
"You are a devil!" replied Lucette in a passion, as she darted through the door, which Mr. Mitchel had unlocked, and ran down-stairs and out of the house.
"I was right," thought Mr. Mitchel, as he sat down once more.
Lucette hurried across to Broadway and went into the district telegraph office at the corner. Hastily scribbling a few lines on a blank, she asked for a boy, and gave him a coin with the instruction to "hurry." She then went down to Madison Square and waited there—I was about to write, patiently—but really the word would not apply. She sat on a bench. Jumped up in less than five minutes, walked about for awhile, and then sat down again, repeating this over and over, till it was plain that she was in a bad humor,—a very bad humor.
At last she saw a man approaching her, and hurried to meet him. It was Mr. Barnes. He, too, looked excited.
"Well, what is it? Why are you here?" he asked.
"I am discharged!"
"Discharged? Why?"
"I don't know why, but that devil Mitchel is at the bottom of it. He locked me up for two hours this morning, and then told me Miss Remsen would not need me any further. I felt like scratching his eyes out." She then told the story to the detective, winding up with, "From what I did catch of their conversation last night I think he has made a confidant of his sweetheart. He asked her to help him and just as he was about to tell herwhat to do, somehow he saw me and closed up like a clam. I think now it had something to do with the child."
"By heaven, you are right. I see it all. I had just returned from that house, when I got your note and came up here. I went to the school this morning pretending that I wished to place a child there. Then, after a while, I asked if my friend Mr. Mitchel's daughter, Rose, was not at the school. 'Yes,' replied the woman in charge, 'but she has just left us.' 'Left you,' said I, 'when?' 'About ten minutes ago. Her mother called for her in a carriage and took her away.' Don't you see, whilst you were locked in that room, Miss Remsen went down and removed the child."
"But Miss Remsen is not her mother?"
"No, stupid. Haven't you any sense left at all? Are you going to be a bungler all your life? This comes of your disobedience. You let Mitchel see you in the elevated train, and now you find out how smart you were."
"Nonsense, he never recognized me."
"He did. I was a fool to trust such an important matter to a woman."
"Oh! were you? Well that woman is not such a fool as you think. I have that button back."
"Ah! Good! How did you manage it?"
"They all went to the theatre last night, and I just hunted through Miss Remsen's things till I found it, in one of her jewel-cases. Here it is." Saying which, she handed to the detective the cameo button which he hadfound in the room where the murder had been committed. He saw that it was the same, and was somewhat comforted to have it back.
"Has Mr. Mitchel made Miss Remsen any present lately?" he asked.
"Yes, he gave her a magnificent ruby last night. Miss Remsen told me that it is worth a fortune, and it looks it."
"How was it set?"
"It is made into a pin to be worn in the hair."
"Well, I have no further use for you at present. Go home, and be sure you keep a still tongue in your head. You have done enough mischief already."
"Haven't I done any good? I think you are very mean."
"Yes, you have done some good. But you will find that in this world one failure counts against three successes. Remember that."
It was the morning of the New Year. Mr. Barnes was seated in an arm-chair by his own fireside at his cosy home on Staten Island. In his hand he held a diary, whose pages he was studying intently. Before peeping over his shoulder to read with him, it will be best to give a slight insight into the state of mind which led him to take up the book on this particular day.
After the clever manner in which he had discovered that a young girl existed, whose name was Rose Mitchel, and who was supposed to be the daughter of Mr. Robert Leroy Mitchel, and after the equally clever trick by which the girl was removed beyond his ken, Mr. Barnes had come to one conclusion. This was, that it was necessary to keep such a strict watch upon Mr. Mitchel, that if he had not already committed the crime, about which he had wagered, he should not be able to do so and avoid detection. For Mr. Barnes began to have some feeling in the matter beyond the mere fulfilment of duty. He was being thwarted by this man at every turn, and this made him doubly determined not to allow him to win that bet. Therefore he had removed Wilson from the post of watching Mr. Mitchel, and had replaced him by twomen who were thoroughly skilful. Wilson and another he set to spy upon the movements of Miss Remsen, for he hoped to find the child through her.
Being the first of January, and therefore the last day upon which Mr. Mitchel could commit his crime, within the conditions imposed, always supposing that he had not already done so, Mr. Barnes wished once more to go over the reports sent to him by his various spies, in order that he might be assured that no mistakes had been made.
He began to read at:
"Dec. 15. Mitchel left his hotel early, and went over to Hoffman House. Remained there two hours, and came out accompanied by Thauret. They walked up to the White Elephant, and spent the morning playing billiards. Lunched together at Delmonicocaféand separated at two o'clock. Mitchel then went to his livery stable and obtained a horse and light wagon. They are his property. Drove slowly along Madison Avenue, and stopped at Thirtieth Street apartment-house. S——.
"No sign of Miss Remsen all morning. She has a new maid. Her girl Sarah returned yesterday, but her mistress refused to take her back. Evidently she recognizes that the girl was bribed to go into the country and to recommend Lucette as her cousin. About 2:30, Mitchel drove up in his light wagon. According to orders, I prepared to follow them, that they might not visit the child, eluding us by driving. Obtained a cab, and was waiting in it as the two turned into Madison Avenue and started up-town. Easily kept them in sight,without exciting suspicion, but learned nothing as they simply drove up through the Park, along St. Nicholas Avenue and home again down the Boulevard and Riverside drive. He remained at the Remsens' till ten o'clock. Then went straight to his hotel. W——.
"Dec. 16. Mitchel spent his morning at his club. Afternoon in his hotel. Evening at Miss Remsen's. S——.
"Miss Remsen and her sister spent the morning shopping. The afternoon paying calls. The evening at home. W——.
"Dec. 17. Mitchel's actions same as yesterday, except that Thauret called on him at his hotel during the afternoon and was with him an hour. S——.
"Miss Remsen, her sister, and two other young ladies went to Brooklyn in the afternoon, but simply visited the large stores there. At home in the evening. W——.
"Dec. 18. Mitchel and Thauret together in the morning. Mitchel and Miss Remsen out walking in afternoon. Mitchel and Thauret at club in the evening. I bribed doorman and succeeded in getting in disguised as one of the servants. Mitchel and Thauret played whist, playing as partners. They lost about a hundred dollars. Went home together. S——.
"Miss Remsen indoors all morning. Out on Fifth Avenue with Mitchel in the afternoon. During their absence Thauret called. W——.
"Dec. 19. Mitchel and Thauret played poker all afternoon in one of the rooms of their club. Both lost. There were four others in the game. One of these won heavily.I have discovered that this is undoubtedly the man who was Thauret's whist partner on the night when Randolph thought that he detected them cheating. He also answers the description of the man who left the jewels at hotel in New Haven. His name is Adrian Fisher. In the evening Mitchel and Thauret were in a box at the opera with the Remsen family. S——.
"The Miss Remsens gave an afternoon tea. Mr. Randolph called and remained to dinner. Went to the opera with the ladies in the evening. W——.
"Dec. 20. Mitchel in his hotel all day. He and Thauret went driving in the afternoon. I followed them in a light wagon. At the road house in the Park, they alighted and had a bottle of wine. Talked together earnestly. Saw Mitchel give Thauret a roll of money. In the evening they played whist as partners at the club, and again they lost. S——.
"No sign of the Miss Remsens till afternoon when a young lady called and the three went to matinee at Daly's. Evening they spent at home. W——.
"Dec. 21. Mitchel attended worship at St. Patrick's Cathedral with the two Miss Remsens. Afternoon remained in his hotel. Evening at the Remsens. S——.
"Miss Remsen and her sister at St. Patrick's Cathedral in the morning. At home the rest of the day. W——.
"According to instructions I have made inquiries about Adrian Fisher. He is a man of good family, but poor. Belongs to two fashionable clubs. Plays cards for money frequently. Is a good player and seems to earn a livingoff of his friends. Has no relatives living, except a sister who is a cripple. He is very fond of her and treats her with great kindness. It is a mystery how he manages to support her as comfortably as he does. They live together in a small flat at —— East Fiftieth Street. It was he who introduced Thauret at the club, and had him made a member. He was out of town from Dec. 1st to Dec. 4th. Q——."
At this point of his reading Mr. Barnes laid down his book and thought a moment. These questions occurred to him.
"Is this man Fisher the tool of Thauret? He is poor, and a card-player. He is well born and has a sister to support in a style suitable to her birth. Has Thauret induced him to play, that together they may fleece the other members of the club? It looks like it, but why this sudden intimacy with Mitchel? Or is that less sudden than we know, and have they been long acquainted? Again, is Fisher the man who received the satchel from one of these men, and then took it to the hotel in New Haven? He was out of town at the time. Why did he place the satchel in the hotel, and then abandon it? After securing the plunder, why did he thus lose it? Was he suddenly overtaken by his conscience and becoming aware of the fact that Thauret was using him as a tool in a piece of criminal work, did he take this method of clearing himself, and of allowing the jewels to be returned to their owner as soon as found in the hotel? This would account for Thauret's having left the train at Stamford, intending perhaps to return to New Havenand meet his confederate. Fisher, meanwhile, having abandoned the scheme and returned to New York, Thauret was thwarted. But who killed the woman?" Mr. Barnes resumed his reading.
"Dec. 26. Mitchel arose early, and called for Miss Remsen at eleven o'clock. Together they went to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Van Rawlston, at Fifth Avenue near Forty-eighth Street. They remained nearly an hour, and then separated when they came out. Mitchel eat luncheon at the Brunswick, where he was joined by Thauret. They went to the club in the afternoon and played whist. They lost money. Mitchel paid for both, and took an I.O.U. from Thauret for his share. Randolph was in the game. There is a growing coolness between Randolph and Mitchel. They barely speak when they meet. It is evident that no love is lost between Randolph and Thauret. In the evening the three men were in the Remsens' box at the opera. S——.
"Miss Remsen accompanied Mitchel to Mrs. Van Rawlston's in the morning, and left him when they came out. She made several calls mainly upon well-known fashionable society leaders. Something is evidently on thetapis. It occurred to me that the missing child might have been placed in the care of the Van Rawlstons. Therefore in the afternoon I allowed R—— to follow the young ladies on a shopping expedition, whilst I interviewed the policeman on the beat. He is acquainted with the Van Rawlston's maid, and will send a report to you to-night. The ladies went to the opera in the evening. W——.
"Mr. and Mrs. Van Rawlston have three children, all younger than fourteen, and only one a girl, the youngest. The Miss Remsen who called was a Miss Emily Remsen. She was accompanied by a Mr. Robert Mitchel. They came to beg Mrs. Van Rawlston to allow a society to which the young lady belongs, to give an entertainment in her house. The entertainment is to be New Year's night. Policeman 1666.
"Dec. 23. Mitchel and Thauret went to a costumer's on Union Square. When they had left I called there and said that I was a friend of Mr. Mitchel's and wished a costume made for the same entertainment. The plan worked, and by adroit questioning I discovered that there is to be an Arabian Night festival on the night of the New Year. It is to be a costume masquerade, and Mitchel has promised to send all of the men to his costumer for their dresses. He ordered an Ali Baba dress. Thauret left no order, saying he would not attend. I ordered an Aladdin costume. If you do not decide to attend I can countermand the order, but I thought you might find it advantageous to be present. With Aladdin's wonderful lamp you might shed some light upon the mystery. Pardon the joke. The afternoon and evening were spent by Mitchel and Thauret at their club. Again they played whist and again they lost. S——.
"The young ladies spent the morning at a fashionable dressmaker's on Madison Avenue. I have picked up an acquaintance with a servant girl who lives in one of the flats in Thirtieth Street house, and from her I learn thatMiss Remsen's new maid tells her that the affair at the Van Rawlston house will be a costume masquerade, all parties assuming characters from the Arabian Nights. Miss Emily Remsen will appear as Scheherezade. W——."
Mr. Barnes turned two pages at this point, evidently considering that nothing of special moment was contained in the reports covering the next few days. He began again.
"Dec. 30. Mr. Mitchel came out of his hotel at ten o'clock, and crossed over to Jersey City, taking an express for Philadelphia. I of course took same train. S——.
"The Miss Remsens were at home all day. They are busy on their costumes for the coming entertainment. W——.
"Dec. 31. Telegram from Philadelphia. 'Mitchel at Lafayette Hotel. Is sick in bed. Doctor in attendance. Sent a telegram to Miss Remsen telling her that he cannot be on hand to-morrow night.' S——.
"Thauret went to Union Square costumer yesterday and obtained the Ali Baba costume ordered for Mitchel. He gave the costumer a letter which he had received from Mitchel, dated at Philadelphia yesterday. It reads: 'Friend Thauret, I am suddenly taken ill. Don't let the Remsens know that it is anything serious. Oblige me, if possible, by attending the Arabian Night festival. I enclose my invitation and a note to Mr. Van Rawlston, which will introduce you. You may wear my costume, and the costumer will give it to you if you present this. You were to have gone out of town I know,but if you wish to do me a favor I hope you will change your plans and take my place. I do not wish Miss Remsen to be entirely unattended. Therefore be with her as much as you can. She will be dressed as Scheherezade.