"Meanwhile I had completed my college career, but had not returned to New Orleans because of my deep disappointment upon learning that my sweetheart had married another man. At this time I was in Paris, when one day I received a piteous letter from the girl-wife telling me that the blow had fallen, that the Montalbon had produced her marriage certificate and claimed her husband, thus dishonoring the daughter of her enemy. The letter also begged my forgiveness for the wrong done to me. I read between the lines and recognized the cry of a broken heart, the bleat of a lamb left to die on the frozen plain. I hurried home with but one thought uppermost, to have revenge upon my cousin. I arrived too late. Not only was the girl dead, but my cousin had disappeared.
"I heard that he had gone out West, and thither I followed him. I would get track of him from time totime, but it seemed fated always that he should have just left a place when I confidently expected to come up with him. Thus five years passed, and at last I did meet him. I at once charged him with his crime, and asked for revenge. He laughed at me and refused to fight. I then warned him that I should take his life at the first chance that offered, when I could do so either under seeming provocation, or else where I could not be suspected."
"Are you not admitting," interrupted Mr. Barnes, "that you harbored a murderous spirit?"
"Mr. Barnes, if all men were punished for their thoughts, the criminal class would be greatly enlarged. You cannot call me to account for anything except my acts. At last my chance came. I followed him one dark night as he went off prospecting in an entirely new direction; we were in a mining country. He tramped most of the night and I pursued. By dawn we were miles away from a habitation. I then made myself known to him, and once more asked him to fight it out. He saw that I was in earnest, and that he was simply compelled to battle for his life. Under these circumstances of course he fought, as the worst coward must do, when driven to desperation. He decided to use pistols, though I wished to try our cause with knives. I confess that I wanted the satisfaction of stabbing him again and again. I wanted to see his life's blood flow at each stroke. It seemed to me tame to stand off at a distance and send one little leaden ball in his direction. Still I admitted his right of choice, and determined to aim as accurately as possibleand to send my bullet straight. You see I did not think of my own life. I had made this vengeance my one object, and after accomplishing that, I thought there would be nothing more for me to do. Consequently I expected to kill him easily, and I did not care if his bullet found my heart or not. Perhaps I hoped it would. Just as we were standing up and preparing to fight, something occurred that almost completely unnerved me and changed the whole result. He lowered his pistol and said:
"'Wait a moment; I have a favor to ask. I feel certain that you will kill me. You have been seeking my life so long, that I am sure you will get it. It is fate. But I too have suffered in the last five years. The favor that I ask is, that if I die you will promise to get my child out of that fiend's clutches.'
"'Your child,' I gasped. 'I thought it died.'
"'That was the Montalbon's lie. The little girl lived, and she took it. I have made a will in favor of my child, leaving her all my wealth; you will find it in my coat. Oddly enough, I named you as executor. I knew that you had loved the mother, though, as God is my judge, I did not know it when I married her. But I am ready if you are.'
"Thus we stood up and fired at each other. The startling news just received made my aim bad, for instead of hitting him in the heart, as I could easily have done, my bullet struck him in the head. He fell, and I rushed towards him, to discover whether he was badly hurt. He was bleeding profusely, and I hastily bandaged up thewound, and so stopped the flow of blood. I then went on to the next mining camp beyond. We returned with a litter, and took him back. There was a man amongst us who claimed that he had studied medicine, and he attended my cousin. He removed the bullet, and found that the wound was not very deep, but the skull was fractured. He was ill for two months, and then slowly recovered his health. But his reason was entirely gone. I took him to New Orleans and placed him in an asylum, and there he has been ever since."
"Very good, Mr. Mitchel," said Mr. Barnes. "But what proof have you that you are not the father, and the lunatic the innocent cousin, as so many believe?"
"Why, in the first place, though we had the same name, we are totally unlike in feature. I think Mr. Neuilly will admit that he would not have recognized me, and he knew the guilty man. However, we will take that up later. I have no fear of not proving my identity. Too many people in New Orleans know me. To continue my tale, I determined to get possession of the child. I knew that the Montalbon would resist, and that I would find it difficult to prove my story. More than all, I knew that I could not obtain legal possession of her without disclosing the secret of her birth, which I wished to avoid for her own sake, as well as for her mother's. I therefore stole her openly in the streets. Detectives were sent out to search for me, but perhaps Mr. Barnes will testify that I am not much afraid of detectives. Perhaps, too, he will understand better now why I know something about detectivemethods. I led them a dance for two years, until in disgust they abandoned the search. Then I went abroad, for I must tell you that as long as I was hounded I remained close at hand. I enjoyed the excitement. It made me forget, or at least it gave me occupation. I remained in Europe until my recent return to New York. It was not very long after that, when I received the letter from the Montalbon, and the photograph which I showed to you. I recognized the picture, though of course I should not have known the signature, which was Rose Mitchel. I did not fear the woman, but I expected some enjoyment at her discomfiture when I should tell her to do her worst. I was not prepared for what occurred. When she met me she began by saying:
"'I have not the least idea of attempting to blackmail you, though perhaps I could do that. But I have that to sell which I think you would be glad to buy.' I asked what it was, and she told me:
"'A certificate of marriage between your cousin and the child's mother. A certificate of marriage between him and myself, antedating that, and another certificate of marriage between myself and another man who was alive at the time that I inveigled your cousin into marrying me.'"
"Great heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Neuilly; "if she had those papers they would prove that her marriage to your cousin was illegal, and that would make the marriage to Rose's mother perfectly regular."
"Exactly so. I paid the woman ten thousand dollars,or the equivalent of that sum, for those documents. Were they not worth it?"
"Indeed, indeed they are. I would have given twice the sum."
"Now let me show you the audacity of the woman. She told me that in case I should refuse to pay her price, she intended to claim me as her husband, exhibiting her certificate, and leaving me to prove, if I could, that she had married my cousin and not myself. This, you see, would have been most unpleasant, and as the papers were well worth the price, in clearing the name of my cousin and his wife and child, I paid over the money."
"I must again ask you," said Mr. Barnes, "for proof that you are not the woman's husband."
"Does not the fact that she sold me those papers indicate that?"
"Not at all," replied the detective. "Supposing you to be really her husband, wishing to be married to Miss Remsen, you would readily pay the woman her price for the paper which proved that your marriage to her had been fraudulent. You might have found it difficult to prove the existence of her first husband without knowing his name, even though she had given you the hint that there was such a person."
"I declare, Mr. Barnes, you are a doubting Thomas. But I will give you one more bit of evidence." He went to his desk and returned with some papers. "Here is a confession which I exacted from the woman at the time that I made the bargain with her. You see, it confirms mystory. But eventhatyou might think manufactured. Here perhaps is better proof. This," handing it to Mr. Neuilly, "is the certificate of the marriage between my cousin and the Montalbon. As is sometimes done, you see, the woman has pasted the likenesses of herself and my cousin upon the paper. Now, Mr. Neuilly, I ask you, is not that the man who was known to you?"
"You are quite right, Mr. Mitchel. I recognize the face perfectly. This is the man I have all along supposed to be a consummate villain. Now I must confess that he was more sinned against than sinning. His one crime was drinking, and the entanglement which wrecked his wife's life and his own was but a wicked plot of which he was innocent. I am glad that it is so, as it leaves the dear little girl without the danger of hereditary taint."
"Come, Mr. Barnes," said Mr. Mitchel, "what have you to say now?"
Mr. Barnes's reply was calculated to startle his hearers, but seemed to have little effect. He said:
"Mr. Mitchel, who do you think killed Rose Mitchel?"
"I don't think I am bound to answer," replied Mr. Mitchel, quickly.
"I wish you a good-afternoon," said the detective, dryly. "Will you go with me, Mr. Neuilly?"
Before the old gentleman could reply Mrs. Mitchel interposed:
"Don't go, Mr. Neuilly. You have seen nothing of Rose yet, and besides we would like you to attend our reception to-night."
"Ha! Ha! Mr. Barnes! Is she not worthy of being my wife? She takes your witness away from you, for I think you will stay, will you not, Mr. Neuilly?"
"It will be a joy to do so. Mr. Barnes, under the circumstances I know you will excuse me, and forgive me, will you not?"
"Certainly. You are right to stay. I will leave you all to your happiness. And I hope it will last. Good-day," with which he left them.
"Really it is too bad," said Mr. Mitchel, "but these detectives are always so sanguine. Just think of it, Queen, he thinks, or he thought, perhaps, would be more correct, that you were a murderer's wife. What do you say, eh?"
For answer she kissed him gently on the forehead, and then went out and brought back Rose.
Immediately after the wedding Mr. Mitchel and his bride started west, intending to spend their honeymoon in the Yosemite Valley, having promised Mrs. Remsen and Dora, however, to join them in the White Mountains before the end of the season. About the first of July the Remsens and the Van Rawlstons went to Jefferson, New Hampshire, a small town along the base of the Pliny Range of mountains, from which a magnificent view of the Presidential Range, only ten miles away, is to be obtained. About the middle of the month Mr. Randolph determined to visit the same place, and was intensely disgusted on alighting from the stage, which reaches the Waumbeck Hotel about eight o'clock at night, to be greeted familiarly by Mr. Alphonse Thauret. It was evident that his rival did not intend to lose any chance to win the hand of Dora Remsen.
If one has anything of the artistic in his nature he could scarcely fail to enjoy himself at Jefferson. The town is practically a single road, well up the side of the mountain range. Thus the hotels all look out over a long and beautiful valley. From the piazza of the Waumbeck, on a clear day, no less than thirty-five mountain peaks canbe easily counted, the Green Mountains over in Vermont being visible as a distant line of blue, and not in the total.
Of course the most conspicuous and most admired peak is Mount Washington. One who has not visited the region might suppose that he would soon become sated with the sight of the same mountains day after day. This is a great error. All the mountains, and especially Mount Washington, are ever presenting new aspects. All changes of atmosphere produce corresponding variations. The shadows of passing clouds, the effects at sunrise or at sunset, the moonlight, the partly cloudy weather when the top of the mountain is hidden, the mists, and the rain, all offer such totally different coloring and picturesque effects that the artistic eye is never tired.
Dora was an artist in every fibre of her being, as one would know who listened to her talking to Mr. Randolph half an hour after his arrival, as they sat together on the piazza. In his delight to be with her and to hear her, he would have forgotten the very existence of Mr. Thauret were it not that he sat near them in the rotunda at the end of the piazza, and so shared the entertainment that she offered.
"What a pity," she was saying, "that you did not come up yesterday. You have missed the grandest sights that mortal ever beheld. I suppose on your trip up you saw nothing beautiful in the rain-storm that we had this afternoon?"
"Nothing whatever," said Mr. Randolph. "However it may have been here among the mountains, the rain didnot make the valleys more attractive. Indeed I thought it simply a beastly day."
"What a mistake that you were not here instead of in the horrid cars. Why, I tell you that I haven't words with which to describe the magnificent pictures that I have enjoyed. Yet I am about to try. You must not lose it all, you know. May I tell you about it?"
"Assuredly; I shall be delighted."
"Well, then, to begin; look out over the valley. What do you see?"
"The moonlight shedding a beautiful ray over the lake."
"Exactly," said Dora, laughing heartily. "That is just the funny mistake I thought you would make. That is not a lake at all. It is mist, or clouds rather. In the morning if I had not told you, you would have been astonished to find that your lake is all trees and meadows. To begin, then; about four o'clock it began to cloud up. That was very interesting. The sun was shining brightly here, but we could see that it was raining hard over in the direction of Lancaster. Slowly it began to come toward us. Some of the boys made wagers as to how soon it would rain here. Then one of the proprietors came out, and surprised us all by saying that it would probably rain over on the Presidential Range before it did here. This seemed extraordinary to us, you know, because why should it skip right over us and go to the big mountains?"
"Well, did it? It does seem impossible."
"That is exactly what occurred. You see, it is likethis: Whenever a storm comes from Lancaster way, the clouds when they get here are divided by the Pliny Range, and pass on either side, leaving us dry. Then they strike against the sides of the Presidential Range, and roll back into our valley. It was a curious sight, I assure you, to see the clouds flying in exactly opposite directions."
"Well, but after all, there could not have been any great beauty in the rain. It must have blotted out all the view."
"Yes, but think how odd it was to find all these tremendous peaks suddenly gone. Not a mountain in sight in any direction. But then, the thunder. Oh! that was grand. The way it rolls about and reverberates gives one a good idea of a great battle. There was something afterwards that carried out this similarity, too, which I wish I could describe. It was after the storm had passed and the bright-setting sun shone forth. Try to see the picture. Imagine yourself sitting just where I am now, and looking toward the Presidential Range, the sun setting red behind us. Mount Washington had shaken the clouds from his head, and was encircled by a gorgeous halo, in the form of a brilliant double rainbow. One end of it seemed to come up right out of the valley there, whilst the other disappeared behind Starr King Mountain. The flying clouds, still black and heavy, whirled swiftly along, hanging low, and, with the sun approaching the horizon, made shifting shadows across the base of Mount Washington, whilst between the rifts the red rays of the sun striking different parts made beauteous timings among thegreen and the brown of trees and rock. Oh, if an artist could only have seen that. But then it would have been useless, for the hand of man could not paint such grandeur. It was in the foreground that the resemblance to the battle-field was to be seen again. Every here and there stray bits of clouds disentangled themselves from the treetops and rose up smoke-like till one could imagine them to be from thousands of camp-fires. Oh! it was simply wonderful."
"It was indeed," said Mr. Thauret; "and your description brings it all back again to me."
"Then the beautiful long twilight," Dora continued, almost unheeding, "that was lovely. Slowly these stray bits of mist met and joined others, till as the darkness came and the moon brightened, that beautiful sheet of water, for after all your lake is real water, accumulated, and there it is. At least you can enjoy that."
He did. But what he enjoyed more was the simple happiness of being with her. After a short time, however, he was deprived of that, for Mrs. Remsen claimed his attention, and took him up to the ball-room to introduce him to some of the many young women who were dancing with each other and with boys of fourteen for want of better partners.
If Mr. Thauret annoyed Mr. Randolph by being at this resort, the former gentleman was none the more pleased at his arrival. Being left alone with Dora, and construing her present mood to be one favorable to his wooing, he determined to speak to her before the other man might finda chance. Moving his chair nearer hers, he began, getting to his subject without much circumlocution.
"Miss Dora," said he, "do you recall a conversation that I had with you one day? I mean about loneliness, and the longing one has for companionship?"
"Oh, yes," said she, frankly, "why? Do you wish to continue it now?"
"If you please. You remember you said you would be better able to do so after your sister's marriage."
"Because I thought that I would miss her so much and be lonely myself, was not that it? Well, of course I have missed Queen very much, but I have scarcely been lonely. You have taken care of that, and I am sure that I am very grateful to you. You have been very nice to me."
"You think so? You admit that?" He spoke eagerly.
"Why, yes! Why not, since it is true?"
"Of course, but then you know so many young ladies hide their feelings. I mean suppression of all emotion is considered so necessary in a woman in these days."
"Suppression!" and she laughed heartily. "Now do you think that I could ever be suppressed?"
"No, indeed, and certainly I hope that you never will be. But if you have not been lonely, perhaps you have thought some of that other subject, love, I mean."
"Oh! That!"
"Yes. That is one question, supreme to me, about which I wish to have your views. Do you think you would be happier or unhappier,—if you were married?"
"That is a question. It would depend upon—my husband, would it not?"
"Suppose that we were——"
"Don't call names, please. I couldn't suppose such a thing. I have promised not to."
"Promised not to, I don't understand?"
"I mean that I have made a bet. You don't think I am horrid to bet, do you? Of course you don't. Well, I have made a curious bet with Bob, Mr. Mitchel, you know. I call him Bob now, and I used to do it sometimes before. That was when I wanted him to do anything for me. It made him feel like one of the family. Well, to tell you about my bet. You see, sometimes, when Emily was out, Bob would play make love to me. He said it would be good practice for me; would teach me the ways of the world and all that sort of thing. Oh! Bob is a curious man, but he is great sport. Don't you like him?"
"Immensely. But you have not told me yet about your bet."
"I am coming to it. Well, one day when he was making love to me, and I was doing my best, suddenly he burst out laughing, and said: 'Dora, I'll bet you'll be engaged within six months of our marriage.' 'How much?' said I. 'As much as you like,' said he. I asked him if he would make it a thousand dollars, and he whistled and called me a little gambler. But I don't think it was gambling, because I was to have a certainty. Of course I wanted the stake to be a large one. So itwas agreed, and he wrote it down on paper. I'll show it to you sometime if you like. If I am not engaged before the 1st of January, Bob will have to pay me a thousand dollars."
"And you mean to win that bet?"
"Indeed I do. I am young and can afford to wait that long, I am sure. There will be time enough afterwards to get a husband."
"Then it would not make any difference how anxious a suitor might be to have his reply at once?"
"No, certainly not. If a man did not love me enough to wait a few months for his answer I should think myself well rid of him. Besides it would give me a chance to study him."
"Suppose—but no—I do ask you. Miss Dora—Dora—I love you madly, passionately, and——"
"Well, don't say any more. If that is true, and you love me madly, passionately, why then you will surely wait till January for your answer." This was said rather curtly, and Mr. Thauret's hopes sank, but rose again to fever heat as she said, very softly: "There, I did not mean to hurt you. You must not think me hard. But I must win that wager. Not so much for the money as for the gratification of proving to Bob that I have some control over myself. Surely, if you truly love me you will not begrudge me that satisfaction?"
"No, no, sweet one. Have your own way. I'll wait. Only say that there is some chance of my succeeding."
"Why, of course, every one has a chance. But I mustnot tell you how great yours is, because if I did I would not be winning my bet fairly. And I must say good-night," with which she left him. Her last words lingered with him, and he took comfort. For what could she mean but that his chances were good, since if otherwise, how could the telling prevent her from winning her wager? Nevertheless, as the weeks went on, he tried many times to get a more definite reply from her, but never succeeded. Still he hugged the cherished hope to his heart and waited as patiently as man could.
Randolph was simply miserable all the time. Whenever he was with Dora she was good to him, kind to him, and often used tender tones that thrilled his heart. But he too failed to get anything from her, save the old request that he should be patient and wait. He too waited, but not patiently.
Meanwhile, in New York, Mr. Barnes was still burrowing into everything that seemed to have any connection direct or otherwise with the mystery, or mysteries, that baffled him. Of one thing he had satisfied himself beyond all doubt. That was that Mr. Fisher had not been implicated in the train robbery. His spy had found that he had been absent from the city during three days at the time of the crime, but this very fact had been shown to be his safeguard. By some skilful work the man discovered, that during that time he had simply been off shooting ducks, in a part of the country where it would have been impossible for him to be an accomplice. This simple fact should not have been hard to discover, were itnot that Fisher had kept his trip a secret. This for some time puzzled the detective, but finally he followed him out of the city, and practically accompanied him on a similar outing, after which he learned that his sister was morbidly opposed to all killing, whether for sport or for a livelihood. It was to humor this idea that her brother made his excursions in secret. The spy learned from the man from whom the dogs were hired that Mr. Fisher had used them in December. So that left him out of the score, or at least so it seemed. It was still possible that he was implicated in the ruby robbery, though save that he was present there seemed nothing against him. Mr. Barnes did not entirely leave him out of the account.
Thus practically the detective made no progress, and was chagrined to be compelled to admit it. Finally, however, an idea occurred to him, upon which the more he dwelt, the more fascinated he became with it. To put it into practice, however, he felt that he must await the return of Mr. Mitchel. He thought he would injure his cause by seeking him and so disturbing him during his pleasure trip.
The Mitchels did not keep their promise to go to the White Mountains, but on the contrary prolonged their western travel, so that it was November before they were at home again, and temporarily quartered at the Fifth Avenue. A few days after, Mr. Barnes sent up his card, and as usual, was cordially received.
"Any news of my wife's ruby?" asked Mr. Mitchel, grasping the detective warmly by the hand.
"No, Mr. Mitchel. I am sorry to say that I am utterly unable to prove any of my theories about that. But I have come to a set determination, and one that to you may seem a peculiar one. I have come to ask your assistance in the murder case."
"Why, certainly, I will help you. Did I not tell you so at the very outset? Have I not always been willing to talk freely to you?"
"You have, but as long as I thought that you yourself might have committed the crime, how could I come to you to ask you to assist me?"
"Then I am to understand that at present you do not suspect me?"
"I have come to that conclusion at last, and wish now that I had done so sooner."
"Would you mind telling me why you have altered your mind? You have told me so much that seemed to implicate me, that I am curious to hear the other side."
"Certainly. I overheard your wager. Then came the robbery, and then the murder. Later there was a second jewel robbery; all of these crimes occurred within the limit which you set. One of them of course you committed. It seems more probable that you stole the single ruby, for in doing that you committed a crime for which you could not be punished, especially since you have married the lady. Even before, she would willingly have testified that it was understood between you, and that it was simply a trick to win a wager. Is not that correct logic?"
"Correct logic? Yes. Of course I admit nothing as to facts."
"Either or both of these robberies are secondary to the murder. That I have determined to unravel if I can. At present I think the train robber and the murderer was one and the same person. Now, there is one clue which I have not been able to follow, but which, if pursued, I am certain will lead me straight to the criminal."
"And that is?"
"The button which I found in the room. That is significant. It is too great a coincidence that it should match your set, not to have an explanation that would shed light upon this case."
"How do you expect me to assist you in that direction?"
"As long as I thought you guilty, I believed that you had lied when you said that the seventh button of the set was the Shakespeare pin which your wife had. That is why I thought it of importance to recover it; sufficiently so, to send my spy, Lucette, into the house with instructions to obtain it if possible. Now that I believe you innocent of the murder, this thought has recently come to me. When I first told you about this button, before you would speak about it, you asked me to allow you to examine it. After doing so, you gave it back to me, with a cheerful smile. If that button had been evidence against you, I see now that it would have required a powerful nerve to appear so unconcerned, and especially to return it to me. The question then that I wish youto answer is, what was it that you saw on that button, which satisfied you that it was not of your set?"
"In the first place, Mr. Barnes, I knew that there were but three like it, the other three having different heads, and the seventh being the Shakespeare button. Thus as I knew that all the buttons were in my possession, I felt safe."
"But in the second place," said the detective, "there was a distinct difference between the buttons, and by that you were even more assured. Am I not right?"
"Mr. Barnes, you deserve to succeed, and I hope you will. I will aid you all that I can. You are right. There is a difference in the buttons. Have you yours with you?"
"Yes, here it is;" saying which, he took it from his pocket-book.
"Keep it a moment. When Miss Remsen ordered these buttons, she directed that a tiny initial should be adroitly carved in the hair of each of the Romeo and Juliet buttons. In the former she ordered an "R." She calls me Roy. And in the others a "Q." I call her Queen. This would escape ordinary observation, but after seeing it with a lens, one may readily find it with the naked eye afterwards. Now take this lens and examine your button, just at the base of the hair, near the neck. So! What do you find?"
"By heavens," exclaimed the detective, "This is most important. This is a Juliet, and if one of your set, it should have a "Q," on it. I believe that there was anattempt to make that letter, but the tool must have slipped, and so it is a poor result, a chip in fact, which mars the continuity of the letter. I doubt if with the eye alone as you looked at it that day, when I first showed it to you, that you saw any letter at all."
"You are correct. I simply looked for the "Q," and not finding it, was satisfied."
"This is serious. This button evidently was made by the same hand that made yours. It was spoiled, and another cut to replace it. The man who carved it, or the person who became possessed of it, must and shall explain to me how it came into the room where the murder was done. You must tell me now where these buttons were bought."
"I will do so upon one condition."
"Name it."
"That whatever you discover, you will tell me before you act, and that you will not act before January 1st unless absolutely necessary."
"You mean as to making an arrest?"
"That is precisely what I mean. You need not fear to make the promise. I will guarantee that your man shall not escape. I know him."
"You know him?" Mr. Barnes was astonished that Mr. Mitchel should make such an admission.
"Yes, I know him. That is, I am morally certain that I know him. I will tell you at once, that having the knowledge that I myself was innocent, I have had an advantage over you, and I have been hunting down thisman all these months. I have good circumstantial evidence against him, but not enough to warrant an arrest; at least not yet. If you could follow this clue, and find that it leads to the same man, we could convict him."
"Will you give me the name of the man whom you suspect?"
"No! That would materially weaken our case. We must get the same result without collusion. No, you work alone and work quickly, for I particularly wish the case to be completed by January 1st."
"Why so?"
"It is the day upon which my wager is to be decided, and I shall give a dinner party, at which I anticipate some fun. By the way, don't forget that you won a dinner from me on a wager. Accept an invitation to dine with me January 1st, and if you can then convict our man, you shall be most welcome."
"I shall bend every energy to that end. But now tell me the name of the jeweller from whom the buttons were procured."
Mr. Mitchel then wrote down the name of a Paris firm, also giving their address. Handing the slip of paper to Mr. Barnes, he took another sheet and continued writing.
"Why, Mr. Mitchel," exclaimed Mr. Barnes, "This is the same firm from whom your jewels were bought; those I mean, which are similar to the stolen set. I have already communicated with these people, and they sent me word that they knew nothing."
"Yes, I know. That was by my instruction," saying which Mr. Mitchel smiled, and Mr. Barnes once more discovered that he had been fighting against a man who thought of everything. "You see," continued Mr. Mitchel, "I knew that you saw the name of the jewellers on the bill of sale. What more probable than that you should apply there for information? Now, my one object throughout has been, not to defeat justice, but to have time enough elapse for me to win my wager. Therefore, I immediately sent a cable to these persons, 'Answer nothing signed Barnes till you hear from me.' Rather a long cable despatch, but then I don't mind a few dollars. Of course, my letter to them made them shut their mouths to you. It was very simple. However, I myself have not been able to get satisfactory facts from them, and I think it needs a person actually on the ground to ferret out this thing. I believe you are just the man for the case. This letter will give you their assistance, and here is a check for five hundred dollars for expenses."
Mr. Barnes would have refused, but Mr. Mitchel insisted, that from that time on, Mr. Barnes should consider himself regularly employed on the murder case, "though, of course," said Mr. Mitchel, jocularly, "you are still free to work out the robberies."
The two men shook hands at parting, and one would have said that they were separating after a mutually satisfactory interview.
The 1st of January arrived, and Mr. Mitchel had heard nothing from Mr. Barnes. Inquiry at his office was met by the simple statement, that "The chief is out of town." When he would be back, or where a communication would reach him, could not be learned. A few days before, however, a formal engraved invitation to the dinner party had been mailed to his home address. Mr. Mitchel was annoyed at not having any notification of whether or not the detective would be present. However, he was compelled to go ahead, and depend upon the slight chance that at the last moment he would appear upon the scene. He hoped that this would occur, as otherwise, his scheme for the evening would be incomplete.
The dinner was to be served at ten o'clock that night at Delmonico's, where a private room had been engaged. It lacked ten minutes of the hour for sitting down, and all the guests had arrived, except Mr. Barnes. These were: Mr. Van Rawlston, Mr. Randolph, Mr. Fisher, Mr. Neuilly, who had decided to spend the winter in New York, Mr. Thauret, and several other gentlemen.
It lacked barely half a minute of ten when Mr. Barneswas announced, and entered in handsome evening dress. Mr. Mitchel's face wore a look of triumph as he saw him, and he hurried forward to receive him. Every one present understood why the detective was invited, for it was by this time well known that a wager was to be decided at twelve o'clock. After the exchange of greetings, Mr. Mitchel gave the waiters the order to open the doors of the dining-room, and in the moment's interval managed to get a word with the detective.
"Tell me quickly, have you succeeded?"
"Yes, thoroughly."
"Good! Write the man's name on a card, and I will give you one upon which I have written the name of my man."
Mr. Barnes did so. Then they exchanged cards, glanced at them, and grasped each other's hands significantly. The cards bore the same name. With the others they went into the dining-room. Mr. Thauret found himself seated next to Mr. Barnes, whilst on the other side of the detective sat Mr. Fisher.
It need scarcely be said that the dinner was enjoyable and enjoyed, though it must be admitted that all awaited anxiously the hour of twelve. It will be as well perhaps, therefore, to come immediately to thedénouement, for which all were assembled. The last course had been served, and coffee and nuts were on the table, when the clock chimed the hour for which all were anxious. Promptly at the first stroke Mr. Mitchel arose. There was a silence till twelve was tolled and then he began:
"Gentlemen, you have all kindly accepted my invitation to see me win a rash wager made thirteen months ago. It is odd, perhaps, that I should have won—for I announce that I have won—when we remember that the time was thirteen months, which number, as we all know, superstitious persons are inclined to connect with misfortune. To show, however, that I do not harbor such childish ideas, I purposely made the time of that length, and, to-night, at the decisive moment, we are thirteen." Here he paused a moment, and one might have noticed that several persons quickly counted those present to test the fact. Continuing, he said: "The superstition in connection with thirteen at dinner is a well-defined one, and the supposition is that one of the number will die within the year. I offer as a toast, therefore, 'Long life to all present—who deserve it.'" The last clause after a slight hesitation, made a decided effect. However, the toast was drunk in silence.
"As some present may not entirely understand what my wager was, I must explain that thirteen months ago to-night I was in a Pullman sleeper with my friend, Mr. Randolph. Mr. Barnes here had just accomplished a neat capture of the criminal Pettingill, who has since been convicted. The papers were praising him, and Mr. Randolph did so to me in glowing terms. I ventured the assertion that detectives run down their prey largely because the criminal class lack intelligence sufficient to compete with their more skilled adversaries. I offered to wager that I could commit a crime within a month andnot be detected within a year thereafter. The amount was to be a thousand dollars, and was accepted by Mr. Randolph. I stipulated for conviction, though had I been arrested within the stated period and convicted afterwards, I should have considered that I had lost the wager. That is why I awaited the arrival of Mr. Barnes so anxiously. I had not seen him for some time, and it was possible that at the last moment he might be prepared to arrest me upon evidence that would later convict me. However, gentlemen, I have escaped both arrest and conviction, yet I committed the crime as wagered."
"You must prove that," said Mr. Randolph; "and, according to our agreement, it must have been a crime which was much talked about!"
"Quite right, my friend, but I shall be able to demonstrate all that. By a curious coincidence a robbery was committed on the very night and upon the same train upon which we made our wager, whilst another robbery was committed almost at the moment when the stipulated month expired. Thus two crimes transpired within the time allowed me, and with both of these my name has been connected in the mind of the detective, Mr. Barnes. Now, that you all may better understand the circumstances, I must go to what I might call the beginning. Years ago certain circumstances in my earlier life gave me an intimate acquaintance with the methods used by detectives, and I then acquired the idea which led me into this undertaking,—that where the criminal has succeeded in escaping actual watching during the commission of hiscrime, so that there is no witness to the act, the detective is almost powerless until he learns the object for which the crime was undertaken. Am I not right, Mr. Barnes?"
"To know the object of a crime, of course, is a great assistance, but much would depend upon the attendant circumstances."
"True. The object then is important. From this point I reached the conclusion that if a man approached another, totally unknown to him, at night in a lonely neighborhood, struck him on the head, killing him, and then, unseen, reached his own home, it would rest entirely with himself whether or not he would ever be caught. I wanted a chance to try this experiment; that is, to commit a crime solely to test the ability of the detectives to discover me afterwards. The difficulty was that a gentleman of honor would scarcely wish to engage in such a reprehensible piece of business. For years, therefore, I could think of no way to have my wish, till the merest chance threw the opportunity within my grasp. Waiter, fill up the glasses."
He paused a moment while this was being done. The men went around with champagne, and when Mr. Thauret was reached he asked to have his Burgundy glass filled also. Mr. Mitchel was again speaking when the waiter returned with the red wine, and did as requested. Mr. Barnes also presented his glass for the same liquor, saying in an undertone to Mr. Thauret, "I cannot take too much champagne."
"One of my hobbies," continued Mr. Mitchel, "as you all know, is the collection of jewels. A few years ago Iheard that a magnificent set was offered for sale. A rich East Indian nobleman, so the story goes, had procured the gems as a present to his wife. They were of the choicest quality, and of each exactly two, matched precisely in size, cutting, and coloration. In time he had two daughters, twins, the mother dying at their birth. Eventually these girls grew up and were married, the ceremony being a double wedding. The father took the set of jewels and divided them, giving to each girl, one of each. This greatly diminished their value, for the matching of gems adds to their price. Reverses of fortune tempted one of these women to offer her jewels for sale. They were taken to a Paris dealer, who chanced to be a man through whom I had made many purchases. He undertook not only to dispose of the gems, but to reproduce them with a high order of imitation, so that the woman retained the original settings and continued to wear what her friends supposed to be the genuine gems. I bought the unset stones. Subsequently her sister, learning the secret, and seeing that there was a way by which the jewelry could be retained, whilst the jewels themselves could be turned into money, engaged the same dealer to serve her in a similar way. Of course, I was doubly anxious to obtain this second lot, for by doing so I enhanced the values of those which I had already. I therefore bought them also."
He paused a moment, to allow the company to recover from the surprise at learning that the stolen jewels were his.
"This lot was sent to me through the Bostoncustom-house. I instructed the dealer to do this, because I had found that goods can be received with less delay in Boston than in New York. Being notified by my broker there that they were ready for delivery, I went to Boston and obtained them. I placed the wallet in a peculiar satchel which had been made to order for me, and carried it to my room at the Hotel Vendome. Later in the day, I met Mr. Randolph, and went with him to a theatre. He was to return to New York by the midnight express, and I went with him to the depot. As we stood awaiting our turn to purchase tickets, you may imagine my utter astonishment to see a woman pass and board the train, having my satchel in her hand. There could be no mistake whatever, because the satchel was peculiar, both in shape and color. Of course I saw at once I had been robbed. It was useless to go back to my hotel, for that would be time wasted. If by any miracle there were two such satchels, mine was safe in the hotel. I therefore astonished Mr. Randolph by offering to accompany him, and I did so, occupying the same section with him. Whilst I was thinking what action I should pursue, knowing that once the train started my thief would be safe as far as New Haven, Mr. Randolph began to praise Mr. Barnes, and like a flash it came to me that this was my chance. I would rob the thief of my own property. Thus if caught I could not be imprisoned, whilst if not I would not only win my wager, but I would have the excitement and the satisfaction for which I had wished. One thing threatened to upset my plans. Mr. Barnes byan odd chance came aboard the same coach, was given the section next to ours, and overheard our conversation. This of course I could not have counted upon."
"You did take it into your account though," interrupted Mr. Barnes.
"You mean that I refused to tell Mr. Randolph what I meant to do, saying that I might be overheard, and that I might even be talking for the benefit of a listening detective? True, but I had no idea that this was so. It was merely extreme precaution, and only shows that we can never be too cautious in an endeavor to keep a secret. Later, however, I heard you get up, and peeping through the curtains, I saw you sitting up, or rather lying in a berth opposite, with the curtains drawn. I at once supposed that you must be a detective. My companion was soon asleep, but with a hundred thousand dollars worth of jewels in the balance, I could not sleep. I was busy wondering what I should do. I think though that I must have dozed, for I know that I was startled to discover suddenly that we were not moving. I looked out of our section window—fortunately I was next to it—and found that we had run into the depot at New Haven. Like a flash it came to me that the thief might leave the train here. I was about to get up, when to my astonishment I noticed a man sneaking along by the side of the train. I was on the side opposite to that from which the passengers would alight, and the suspicious actions of the man forced me to watch him. He passed so close to me that I could have touched him had my window beenopen, and as he did so the light of an electric lamp disclosed the fact that he had my satchel. The thief had been robbed already. The man approached a coal-bin, and stooping, shoved the satchel behind it. Then he returned to the train and came aboard. I said to myself 'That fellow is an artist. He will remain on board till the robbery is discovered, if necessary, and even allow himself to be searched. Then he will quietly come back and get the satchel and jewels.' Thus it was my cue to act quickly. But if I left the train I knew that the detective would see me. I therefore gently raised the sash, and deftly let myself to the ground out of the window. I quickly took the satchel, ran to the end of the depot, and found a place where I could shove it far under the platform. Then I climbed back into the berth, and after that I assure you I slept very well."
The company applauded this description of how the robbery had been committed, and Mr. Mitchel bowed.
"Wait, my friends, we are not through yet. The woman who had robbed me had the supreme audacity to report her loss, or perhaps we should say, that she was so angry that she became desperate. I have reason to believe that she had an accomplice in this man, and that suspecting him of robbing her, she would have been willing to give testimony against him if caught, and trust to escape herself, by turning State's evidence. When we were running in to New York, Mr. Barnes directed that all should be searched. I enjoyed that, I assure you. It seemed so amusing to look in New York for what I knewwas in New Haven. At the same time I was anxious to get back to New Haven as quickly as possible. With that end in view I invited Mr. Barnes to breakfast with me. I tried to make it appear that I was anxious to have him agree to be the only detective on my track, but in reality I wished to discover whether he would be able at once to place a spy at my heels; that is, whether he had a man at the Grand Central already. This I found was the case. I therefore was obliged to go to my hotel as though having no desire to leave town again. Then, subsequently, I eluded this man by the convenient bridges across the Elevated railroad. I went to New Haven, found the satchel, and then deposited it at a hotel nearby for safe keeping. My object in this was plain. I knew that the robbery would get into the newspapers, and that by behaving suspiciously at the hotel,—of course I was disguised,—attention would be attracted there. This did happen, and the result was that the jewels were given into the custody of the police authorities, the very safest place for them, so far as I was concerned. Gentlemen, that is the story of the crime which I committed. I have only to show my receipt from the Boston custom-house, and my bill-of-sale from the Paris dealer to be able to recover my property. Are you satisfied, Mr. Randolph?"
"Entirely. You have won fairly, and I have a check for the amount with me, which you must accept with my congratulations upon your success."
"I thank you very much," said Mr. Mitchel, taking the check; "I take this because I have immediate use for it,as you will learn directly. Now I must tell you the true story of the other robbery."
At this all were very much astonished. Mr. Thauret appeared a trifle nervous. He placed one hand over the top of his claret glass, and let it rest there a moment, after first having taken a sip from it.
"You all recall the fact that I was sick in Philadelphia," continued Mr. Mitchel, "at the time of the Ali Baba festival. I flatter myself that that was the most artistic thing that I have done throughout this whole affair. Any one seeing me would have been satisfied that I was truly ill, yet, in point of fact, my cough was brought on by drugs administered to me by my physician at my express desire, and for purposes which I had explained to him. I guessed that I had been followed to Philadelphia, and took care that I should not be too closely watched, as Mr. Barnes knows. Yet I expected that after the affair, Mr. Barnes himself would come to Philadelphia to see me, and my artificially-produced illness was to baffle him. But I am anticipating events. After the train robbery the woman was murdered. By what seemed an odd chance she was in the same house where my wife then lived. I knew that I had been followed from the theatre to that house on the night of the murder. I knew that other circumstances pointed strongly to my guilt. But I had the advantage over the detective, for I knew that the man who had stolen the jewels from the woman, not finding them when he returned to New Haven, must have been furious. Judging the woman by himself, hewould suppose that at least it was possible that she had taken them from the satchel herself. Then on that slim chance might he not have returned to the woman, and, admitting the theft of the satchel, have endeavored to make her confess that she still had the jewels? Failing in this, might he not either in a fit of anger or to prevent her from 'peaching,' as they call it, have cut her throat?"
"You are wrong there, Mr. Mitchel," said the detective. "The woman was killed whilst she slept. There was no struggle."
"Even so, we can imagine the sneak going into the house and killing her that he might search for the gems undisturbed, and also to rid himself of a companion for whom he no longer had any need. At least, that was the view that I took of it, and, more than that, I felt convinced that I knew the man."
At this moment, Mr. Thauret nervously reached forth his hand towards his glass of wine, but before he could get it Mr. Barnes had taken it up and drained it to the bottom. Mr. Thauret seemed livid with wrath, and a dramatic incident occurred, unobserved by the rest of the company. Mr. Thauret turned towards Mr. Barnes and seemed on the point of making a demonstration, when that gentleman just tipped back his chair slightly, and meaningly exposed to the view of his neighbor the gleaming barrel of a revolver, which he held in his hand below the table. This only occupied a moment, and immediately afterwards both men seemed, like the others, simply interested listeners to the narrative.
"When I say that I thought that I knew the man," continued Mr. Mitchel, "I make a statement which it may interest you to have me explain. In the first place, I saw the fellow who hid the satchel at the New Haven depot. Still I obtained but a momentary glimpse of his face, and would not have been sure of identifying him. I will call your attention now to the fact that very slight incidents sometimes lead the mind into a suspicion, which, followed up, may elucidate a mystery. Prior to the train robbery I had met a man at my club one night, or rather I had seen him playing a card game, and I conceived the notion that the fellow was cheating. Within a few days of the robbery I met this man again, on which occasion Mr. Barnes was present, and an interesting conversation occurred. I was standing aside, pretending to be otherwise engaged, but really puzzling over the face of this man, which now seemed to me strikingly familiar. Of course I had seen him at the club, yet despite me, there was an intuitive feeling that I had seen him elsewhere also. In a moment I heard him admit that he had been aboard of the train on the night of the robbery, and that he had been the first one searched. Awhile later he offered to wager Mr. Barnes that various theories which had been advanced as to the thief's method of secreting the jewels, were all erroneous. This one remark satisfied me that the thief stood before me. I had not then heard of the murder. Now it must be remembered that I was ensnared in the meshes of circumstantial evidence myself, so that, besides any duty that I might owe to society, it became ofvital importance to my own safety that I should be in a position to prove this man guilty. I formed a rather bold plan. I made a friend of the fellow. I invited him to my room one night, and then accused him of having cheated at the card game. He at first assumed a threatening attitude, but I retained my composure, and perhaps startled him by proposing to form a partnership by which we could fleece the rich club men. I hinted to him that I really possessed less money than I am credited with, and that what I did have I had taken at the tables on the Continent. He then admitted that he had a 'system,' and from that time we posed as good friends, though I do not think he ever fully trusted me. I learned from him that his partner in the game where I caught him cheating was entirely innocent, and made him promise not to play with him again, for I had discovered that the detectives had been told of this game, and therefore knew that they would be watching both men when playing cards. I preferred to be the partner myself upon such occasions. Having somewhat won the fellow's confidence, I was ready for my great scheme in baffling the detective so that I might win my wager, and at the same time entrap my suspect. I had conceived the Ali Baba festival. I showed Mr. Barnes one day the ruby which I afterwards presented to my wife. At the same time I told him, that if he should come to the conclusion that I was innocent of the train robbery, he might as well remember that I would still have to commit the crime as agreed upon. Then I arranged that the festival should occur on NewYear's night, the very day on which my month would expire. I knew that all this would lead the detective to believe that I meant to rob myfiancée, a crime for which I might readily have escaped punishment, with her assistance. There he misjudged me. I would not for treble the sum have had her name mixed up in such a transaction. She knew absolutely nothing of my intentions, though being at that time in ignorance of the details of the train robbery, I left her mind in a condition not to offer resistance to the thief, who she might suppose to be myself. Then, after laying my trap, at the last moment, I baited it by asking myfiancéeto wear the ruby pin in her hair. I went to Philadelphia, and feigned sickness. Then I eluded the spy and came on myself. Mr. Barnes I supposed would be present, and I had arranged so that if so, he would necessarily be in one of the dominos of the forty thieves. I had invited my suspect to assume the role of Ali Baba, but he shrewdly persuaded some one else to take the costume, himself donning one of the Forty Thieves' dresses. This compelled me to go around speaking to every one so disguised, and to my satisfaction, by their voices, I discovered my man and also Mr. Barnes. In the final tableau, Mr. Barnes, who evidently was watching Ali Baba, attempted to get near him, and by chance was immediately behind my man. Fearing that he would interfere with my plans, I fell in just behind him. My design was to tempt the fellow to steal the ruby, which, if he did, would satisfy at least myself that my suspicions were correct. It was, perhaps, a mad scheme, but itsucceeded. I had so arranged that every one should pass the Sultan and make obeisance. In doing this, as myfiancéewas seated on the floor, the ruby in her hair would be just at hand, and one who knew its high value could easily take it. I fully expected my man to do this, and I saw him gently withdraw it. Immediately Mr. Barnes stepped forward to seize him, but I held the detective from behind, then threw him into the advancing crowd, and, in the confusion, escaped from the house."
Mr. Mitchel paused, and silence prevailed. All felt, rather than knew, that a tragedy might be at hand. Mr. Thauret however, in a moment said:
"Are you not going to tell us the name of this sneak thief?"
"No," quickly responded Mr. Mitchel. "But you are wrong to call my suspect a sneak thief. If crime were a recognized business, as gambling in Wall Street is now considered, this man would be counted 'a bold operator.' I confess that I admire him for his courage. But it would scarcely do for me to mention his name, when I am not in the position to prove that he is the guilty man."
"I thought you said that you saw him steal the ruby?" said Mr. Thauret.
"I did, but as I myself had been suspected of that, my unsupported word would be inadequate. Let me tell you what I have done in the matter since. The most important step for me, perhaps, was to prevent the sale of the gem. This was not difficult, as it is known the world over. I warned all dealers, and let my man know that Ihad done so. Next, I wished to delay adénouementuntil to-night, the time when my wager with Mr. Randolph would be settled. I soon discovered that my suspect would not be averse to a marriage with a rich American girl. He questioned me adroitly as to the fortune which would come to my little sister-in-law, and I replied in such a way that I knew he would bend his energies in that direction. Then I did that, which, perhaps, I should not have done, but I felt myself master of the situation and able to control events. I made a wager with Dora that she would not remain unengaged until to-night, and I stipulated that should she have offers she should neither accept nor reject a suitor. I also told her, though I declined to fully explain how, that she would materially assist me in winning my wager."
This explains what Dora meant when she asked Mr. Randolph if money would count with him against her love. When she accepted the wager with Mr. Mitchel she had been feeling resentfully towards Mr. Randolph, who, as long as he suspected his friend of the graver crimes, hesitated to become connected with him by marriage. This made him less attentive to Dora, so that she had not thought of him as a suitor when making the bet. When he declared himself she recognized her predicament and was correspondingly troubled, yet determined to win, and so acted as related.
By this time, though Mr. Mitchel had not mentioned the name of the criminal, several present knew to whom he was alluding. Mr. Randolph said impetuously:
"Then that explains——" here he stopped, confused.
"Yes," said Mr. Mitchel, smiling, "that explains everything that has perplexed you. Be reconciled for the time you have been made to wait, for you will now not only win the lady, but you will recover this check, for I must pass it over to her as a forfeit. Gentlemen, shall we drink to the health and success of Mr. Randolph?"
This was done in silence. The guests felt a constraint. They knew that more was yet to come and anxiously waited for it.
Mr. Mitchel continued: "Gentlemen, that ends my story, except that I engaged Mr. Barnes to take up the threads of evidence which I gave him, and to disentangle them if he could. Shall we hear his report?"