"Dear Sir:—"As we have previously advised you the Montezuma Emerald was shipped to you on the tenth instant. On the following day the man from whomwe had bought it was found dead in Dover Street, London, killed by a dagger-thrust between the shoulders. The meagre accounts telegraphed to the papers here, state that there is no clue to the assassin. We were struck by the name, and remembered that the deceased had urged us to buy the emerald, because, as he declared, he feared that a man had followed him from Mexico, intending to murder him to get possession of it. Within an hour of reading the newspaper story, a gentlemanly looking man, giving the name of Miguel Palma, entered our store, and asked if we had purchased the Montezuma Emerald. We replied negatively, and he smiled and left. We notified the police, but they have not yet been able to find this man. We deemed it our duty to warn you, and did so by cable."
"Dear Sir:—
"As we have previously advised you the Montezuma Emerald was shipped to you on the tenth instant. On the following day the man from whomwe had bought it was found dead in Dover Street, London, killed by a dagger-thrust between the shoulders. The meagre accounts telegraphed to the papers here, state that there is no clue to the assassin. We were struck by the name, and remembered that the deceased had urged us to buy the emerald, because, as he declared, he feared that a man had followed him from Mexico, intending to murder him to get possession of it. Within an hour of reading the newspaper story, a gentlemanly looking man, giving the name of Miguel Palma, entered our store, and asked if we had purchased the Montezuma Emerald. We replied negatively, and he smiled and left. We notified the police, but they have not yet been able to find this man. We deemed it our duty to warn you, and did so by cable."
The signature was that of the firm from which Mr. Barnes had received the cable in the morning. The plot seemed plain enough now. After the fruitless murder of the man in London, the Mexican had traced the emerald to Mr. Mitchel, and had followed it across the water. Had he succeeded in obtaining it? Among the things found on the corpse was an empty jewel-case, bearing the name of the Paris firm. It seemed from this that the gem had been stolen. But, if so, this man, Miguel Palma, must be made to explain his knowledge of the affair.
Once more visiting the Imperial, Mr. Barnes made inquiry, and was told that Mr. Palma had left the hotel on the night of the previous Thursday, whichwas just a few hours before Mr. Mitchel had undoubtedly reached there alive. Could it be that the man at the Morgue had been he? If so, why was he visiting that place to view the body of his victim? This was a problem over which Mr. Barnes puzzled, as he was driven up to the residence of Mr. Mitchel. Here he found Williams, and imparted to that faithful servant the news of his master's death, and then inquired for the address of the family abroad, that he might notify them by cable, before they could read the bald statement in a newspaper.
"As they only sailed a week ago to-day," said Williams, "they're hardly more than due in London. I'll go up to the master's desk and get the address of his London bankers."
As Williams turned to leave the room, he started back amazed at the sound of a bell.
"That's the master's bell, Inspector! Some one is in his room! Come with me!"
The two men bounded up-stairs, two steps at a time, and Williams threw open the door of Mr. Mitchel's boudoir, and then fell back against Mr. Barnes, crying:
"The master himself!"
Mr. Barnes looked over the man's shoulder, and could scarcely believe his eyes when he observed Mr. Mitchel, alive and well, brushing his hair before a mirror.
"I've rung for you twice, Williams," said Mr. Mitchel, and then, seeing Mr. Barnes, he added, "Ah, Mr. Barnes. You are very welcome. Comein. Why, what is the matter, man? You are as white as though you had seen a ghost."
"Thank God, you are safe!" fervently ejaculated the detective, going forward and grasping Mr. Mitchel's hand. "Here, read this, and you will understand." He drew out the afternoon paper and handed it to him.
"Oh, that," said Mr. Mitchel, carelessly. "I've read that. Merely a sensational lie, worked off upon a guileless public. Not a word of truth in it, I assure you."
"Of course not, since you are alive; but there is a mystery about this which is yet to be explained."
"What! A mystery, and the great Mr. Barnes has not solved it? I am surprised. I am, indeed. But then, you know, I told you after Goldie made a fizzle of our little joke that if I should choose to play the principal part you would not catch me. You see I have beaten you this time. Confess. You thought that was my corpse which you gazed upon at the Morgue?"
"Well," said Mr. Barnes, reluctantly, "the identification certainly seemed complete, in spite of the condition of the face, which made recognition impossible."
"Yes; I flatter myself the whole affair was artistic."
"Do you mean that this whole thing is nothing but a joke? That you went so far as to invent cables and letters from Paris just for the trifling amusement of making a fool of me?"
Mr. Barnes was evidently slightly angry, and Mr. Mitchel, noting this fact, hastened to mollify him.
"No, no; it is not quite so bad as that," he said. "I must tell you the whole story, for there is yet important work to do, and you must help me. No, Williams, you need not go out. Your anxiety over my absence entitles you to a knowledge of the truth. A short time ago I heard that a very rare gem was in the market, no less a stone than the original emerald which Cortez stole from the crown of Montezuma. The emerald was offered in Paris, and I was notified at once by the dealer, and authorized the purchase by cable. A few days later I received a despatch warning me that there was danger. I understood at once, for similar danger had lurked about other large stones which are now in my collection. The warning meant that I should not attempt to get the emerald from the Custom-House until further advices reached me, which would indicate the exact nature of the danger. Later, I received the letter which was found on the body now at the Morgue, and which I suppose you have read?"
Mr. Barnes nodded assent.
"I readily located the man Palma at the Imperial, and from his openly using his name I knew that I had a dangerous adversary. Criminals who disdain aliases have brains, and use them. I kept away from the Custom-House until I had satisfied myself that I was being dogged by a veritable cutthroat, who, of course, was the tool hired by Palma to rob,perhaps to kill me. Thus acquainted with my adversaries, I was ready for the enterprise."
"Why did you not solicit my assistance?" asked Mr. Barnes.
"Partly because I wanted all the glory, and partly because I saw a chance to make you admit that I am still the champion detective-baffler. I sent my wife and daughter to Europe that I might have time for my scheme. On the day after their departure I boldly went to the Custom-House and obtained the emerald. Of course I was dogged by the hireling, but I had arranged a plan which gave him no advantage over me. I had constructed a pair of goggles which looked like simple smoked glasses, but in one of these I had a little mirror so arranged that I could easily watch the man behind me, should he approach too near. However, I was sure that he would not attack me in a crowded thoroughfare, and I kept in crowds until time for dinner, when, by appointment, I met my neighbor Mordaunt, and remained in his company until I reached my own doorway late at night. Here he left me, and I stood on the stoop until he disappeared into his own house. Then I turned, and apparently had much trouble to place my latch-key in the lock. This offered the assassin the chance he had hoped for, and, gliding stealthily forward, he made a vicious stab at me. But, in the first place, I had put on a chain-armor vest, and, in the second, expecting the attack to occur just as it did, I turned swiftly and with one blow with a club I knocked the weapon from thefellow's hand, and with another I struck him over the head so that he fell senseless at my feet."
"Bravo!" cried Mr. Barnes. "You have a cool nerve."
"I don't know. I think I was very much excited at the crucial moment, but with my chain armor, a stout loaded club in one hand and a derringer in the other, I never was in any real danger. I took the man down to the wine-cellar and locked him in one of the vaults. Then I called a cab, and went down to the Imperial, in search of Palma; but I was too late. He had vanished."
"So I discovered," interjected Mr. Barnes.
"I could get nothing out of the fellow in the cellar. Either he cannot or he will not speak English. So I have merely kept him a prisoner, visiting him at midnight only, to avoid Williams, and giving him rations for another day. Meanwhile, I disguised myself and looked for Palma. I could not find him. I had another card, however, and the time came at last to play it. I deduced from Palma's leaving the hotel on the very day when I took the emerald from the Custom-House, that it was prearranged that his hireling should stick to me until he obtained the gem, and then meet him at some rendezvous, previously appointed. Hearing nothing during the past few days, he has perhaps thought that I had left the city, and that his man was still upon my track. Meanwhile I was perfecting my grandcoup. With the aid of a physician, who is a confidential friend, I obtained a corpse from one of the hospitals,a man about my size, whose face we battered beyond description. We dressed him in my clothing, and fixed the dagger which I had taken from my would-be assassin so tightly in the backbone that it would not drop out. Then one night we took our dummy to the river and securely anchored it in the water. Last night I simply cut it loose and let it drift down the river."
"You knew of course that it would be taken to the Morgue," said Mr. Barnes.
"Precisely. Then I dressed myself as a blind beggar, posted myself in front of the Morgue, and waited."
"You were the beggar?" ejaculated the detective.
"Yes. I have your quarter, and shall prize it as a souvenir. Indeed, I made nearly four dollars during the day. Begging seems to be lucrative. After the newspapers got on the street with the account of my death, I looked for developments. Palma came in due time, and went in. I presume that he saw the dagger, which was placed there for his special benefit, as well as the empty jewel-case, and at once concluded that his man had stolen the gem and meant to keep it for himself. Under these circumstances he would naturally be angry, and therefore less cautious and more easily shadowed. Before he came out, you turned up and stupidly brought a cab, which allowed my man to get a start of me. However, I am a good runner, and as he only rode as far as Third Avenue, and then took the elevated railroad,I easily followed him to his lair. Now I will explain to you what I wish you to do, if I may count on you?"
"Assuredly."
"You must go into the street, and when I release the man in the cellar, you must track him. I will go to the other place, and we will see what happens when the men meet. We will both be there to see the fun."
An hour later, Mr. Barnes was skilfully dogging a sneaking Mexican, who walked rapidly through one of the lowest streets on the East Side, until finally he dodged into a blind alley, and before the detective could make sure which of the many doors had allowed him ingress he had disappeared. A moment later a low whistle attracted his attention, and across in a doorway he saw a figure which beckoned to him. He went over and found Mr. Mitchel.
"Palma is here. I have seen him. You see I was right. This is the place of appointment, and the cutthroat has come here straight. Hush! What was that?"
There was a shriek, followed by another, and then silence.
"Let us go up," said Mr. Barnes. "Do you know which door?"
"Yes; follow me."
Mr. Mitchel started across, but, just as they reached the door, footsteps were heard rapidly descending the stairs. Both men stood aside and waited. A minute later a cloaked figure boundedout, only to be gripped instantly by those in hiding. It was Palma, and he fought like a demon, but the long, powerful arms of Mr. Barnes encircled him, and, with a hug that would have made a bear envious, the scoundrel was soon subdued. Mr. Barnes then manacled him, while Mr. Mitchel ascended the stairs to see about the other man. He lay sprawling on the floor, face downward, stabbed in the heart.
A SINGULAR ABDUCTION
Mr. Barneswas alone in his sanctum when an elderly gentleman of cultured manners was ushered in. The visitor sank into a seat and began his appeal at once.
"Oh, Mr. Barnes," said he, "I am in great distress. I hardly dared to hope that assistance was possible until I met my friend, Mr. Leroy Mitchel. You know him?" Mr. Barnes assented with a smile. "Well," continued the old gentleman, "Mr. Mitchel said that you could surely assist me."
"Certainly. I will do all that is in my power," said the detective.
"You are very kind. I hope you can aid me. But let me tell you the story. I am Richard Gedney, the broker. Perhaps you have heard the name?" Mr. Barnes nodded. "I thought so. 'Old Dick,' they call me on the street, and sometimes 'Old Nick,' but that is only their joke. I do not believe they really dislike me, though I have grown rich. I have never cheated any one, nor wronged a friend in my life. But that is immaterial, except that it makes it hard to understand how anyone could have done me the great injury of stealing my daughter."
"Stealing your daughter?" interrupted the detective. "Abduction?"
"Abduction I suppose is your technical term. I call it plain stealing. To take a girl of fourteen away from her father's home is stealing, plain and simple."
"When did this occur?"
"Two days ago. Tuesday morning we missed her, though she may have been taken in the night. She was slightly ill on Monday evening, and her maid sent for our doctor, who ordered her to be put to bed and kept there. Next morning, that is, Tuesday, he called early, as he was going out on his rounds. He was admitted by the butler and went straight up to her room. He came down a few minutes later, rang the door-bell to call a servant, and reported that the child was not in her room. He left word that she must be put back to bed and that he would return in an hour. The butler gave the message to her maid, who became alarmed, as she supposed her mistress to be in bed. A search was begun, but the child had vanished."
"How is it, Mr. Gedney, that the doctor did not speak to you personally instead of to the servant?"
"I cannot too much condemn myself. You see, I am an old whist player, and the temptation to play made me linger so late with some friends on Monday night that I preferred to remain in Newark where I was, and so did not reach home till teno'clock Tuesday morning. By that time the misfortune had occurred."
"Have you made no discoveries as to what has become of her?"
"None. We have sent to all of our friends in the vain hope that she might have arisen early and gone out, but no one has seen her. She has disappeared as thoroughly as though she had been swallowed by an earthquake. Here, however, is a letter which reached me this morning. I cannot tell whether there is anything in it, or whether it is merely a cruel joke perpetrated by some crank who has heard of my loss." He handed the letter to the detective, who read as follows:
"Your daughter is safe if you are sensible. If you want her back all you have to do is to state your figures. Make them high enough, and she'll be with you. Put a 'Personal' in theHeraldfor D. M., and I will answer."
"Mr. Gedney," said Mr. Barnes, "I am afraid this is a serious case. What has been done has been so thoroughly well accomplished that I believe we have no fool to deal with. His is a master hand. We must begin our work at once. I will take this up personally. Come, we must go out."
They proceeded first to theHeralduptown office, and Mr. Barnes inserted the following advertisement:
"D. M. Communicate at once, stating lowest terms.Gedney."
"D. M. Communicate at once, stating lowest terms.Gedney."
"Now we will go to your home, Mr. Gedney," said Mr. Barnes, and thither they went.
Seating himself in a comfortable leather chair in the library, Mr. Barnes asked that the butler should be called. The man entered the room, and it was apparent at once that here was a good servant of the English type.
"Moulton," began Mr. Barnes, "I am a detective. I am going to find out where your young mistress has been taken."
"I hope so, sir," said the butler.
"Very well," said the detective. "Now answer a few questions explicitly, and you may give me great assistance. On Tuesday morning you admitted the doctor. At what time was it?"
"It was about eight o'clock, sir. We had just taken our seats at breakfast in the servants' hall, when the bell rang. That is how I know the hour. We are regular about meals in this house. We eat at eight and the master at nine."
"What happened when you admitted the doctor?"
"He asked for Miss Nora, and I told him she was not down yet. He said he supposed he could go up, and I said I supposed so, and he went."
"What did you do next?"
"I went back to my breakfast."
"Did you tell the maid that the doctor had called?"
"Not just then, sir, for she had not come into the breakfast-room."
"When did you tell her?"
"After I saw the doctor the second time. I heard the door-bell again and went up, when, to my surprise, there was the doctor. He said he rang because he did not know how else to call me. Then he said that Miss Nora had left her room, which was against the orders he gave the night before, and that I was to tell the maid to have her back to bed, and he would call again. I went back to the breakfast-room. This time the maid was there, and frightened she was when I gave her the message."
"How long was it after you admitted the doctor the first time, when you answered his second ring?"
"I should think five minutes, sir; though it might have been ten."
"And during this five or ten minutes the maid was not in the breakfast-room?"
"No, sir."
"Send her to me." The butler left the room, and, whilst waiting for the maid, Mr. Barnes addressed Mr. Gedney.
"Mr. Gedney," said he, "you have not told me the name of the doctor."
"His name is Donaldson. Everybody knows Dr. Donaldson."
"Has he served you long?"
"Ever since I came to live in this neighborhood. About two years, I should say. He has seemed to be very fond of Elinora. Why, he has been here a half-dozen times asking for news of her since herdisappearance. He has a curious theory which I can hardly credit. He thinks she may have wandered off in the night, asleep. But then he has not seen this letter from 'D. M.' yet."
"I would like to speak to him about his somnambulistic idea. Do you think he will drop in to-day?"
"He may be in at any moment, as he has not called yet this morning. Here is my daughter's maid."
This directed the attention of Mr. Barnes to a young woman who at that moment entered. She was evidently dreadfully alarmed at being summoned to meet a detective, and her eyes showed that she had been weeping.
"Come, my girl," said Mr. Barnes, reassuringly, "you need not be frightened. I am not an ogre. I only wish to ask you a few questions. You are willing to help me find your mistress, are you not?"
"Oh, indeed, indeed yes, sir!"
"Then begin by telling me how she was on Monday night when you sent for the doctor."
The girl composed herself with an effort, evidently satisfied that a detective was just like any ordinary man, and replied:
"Miss Nora acted rather odd all Monday, and was melancholy like. She would sit and stare out of the window and not answer when she was spoken to. I thought perhaps something had bothered her, and so I left her alone, meaning to speak to her father at dinner-time. But he sent a telegramsaying he had to go out of town. So when Miss Nora wouldn't come down to dinner, and wouldn't answer me, but just kept staring out of the window, I got scared a little, and thought it best to send for Dr. Donaldson."
"What did he say when he came?"
"He talked to her, but she wouldn't answer him either. He patted her on the head, and said she was sulky. Then he told me perhaps she was angry because her father hadn't come home, but that she must not be allowed to brood over trifles. He said I must put her to bed, and he gave her some medicine that he said would put her to sleep."
"Did you have any trouble to get her to bed?"
"No, sir, though that was strange. She just stood still and let me do everything. She did not help me or prevent me."
"When did you see her after that?"
"I never saw her after that," and she began to cry softly.
"Come, come, don't cry. Your mistress is all right. I will bring her back. Now tell me why you did not see her again. Is it not your business to attend her in the morning?"
"Yes, sir, but she only gets up about eight o'clock, and the doctor told me he would call the first thing in the morning, and that I must not disturb her till he came. He said he wanted to wake her himself and see how she acted."
"You were not in the breakfast-room at eighto'clock," said the detective, watching her closely; "where were you?"
The girl turned crimson, and stammered a few words inaudibly.
"Come, tell me where you were. You were somewhere, you know. Where were you?"
"I was in the downstairs hallway," she said, slowly.
"Doing what?"
"I was talking to the policeman," she replied, more reluctantly.
"Your beau?" asked Mr. Barnes, significantly.
"No, sir. He is my husband." She tossed her head defiantly, now that her secret was divulged.
"Your husband?" said Mr. Barnes, slightly surprised. "Why, then, did you hesitate to tell me of him?"
"Because—because,"—she stammered, again much troubled,—"because, maybe, if I hadn't been talking to him, Miss Nora wouldn't have been carried off. He might have seen the thief."
"Just so," said Mr. Barnes. "Well, that will do." The girl retired only too gladly.
Mr. Barnes asked to be shown the room where the missing girl had slept, and made minute examinations of everything. Up in the room a thought occurred to him, and he once more asked for the maid.
"Can you tell me," he asked, "whether your mistress took any of her clothing with her?"
"Well, sir," she replied, "I miss the whole suitthat she wore on Monday. It looks as though she must have dressed herself."
Mr. Barnes made a few notes in his memorandum-book, and then with Mr. Gedney returned to the library. Here they found Dr. Donaldson, who had arrived whilst they were upstairs. Mr. Gedney introduced the doctor, a genial, pleasant man, who shook Mr. Barnes cordially by the hand, saying:
"I am delighted, Mr. Barnes, that my old friend Gedney has been sensible enough to engage you to unravel this affair rather than call in the police. The police are bunglers anyway, and only make scandal and publicity. You have looked into the matter, eh? What do you think?"
"That is precisely the question, Doctor, which I wish to ask you. What do you think? Mr. Gedney says you suggest somnambulism."
"I only said it might be that. I would not like to be too positive. You know that I called to see the dear girl Monday night. Well, I found her in a strange mood. In fact, thinking it over, I have almost convinced myself that what we took for stubbornness—sulks, I think I called it—was somnambulism. That, in fact, she was asleep when I saw her. That would account for her not replying to questions, and offering no resistance when her maid removed her clothing to put her to bed. Still it is merely a guess. It is possible that she got up in the night and wandered out of the house. I only venture it as a possibility, a chance clue for you to work on."
"What do you think of this letter?" asked Mr. Barnes, handing the doctor the anonymous communication from "D. M."
The doctor read it over twice, and then said:
"Looks more like somnambulism than ever. Don't you see? She dressed herself in the night, and wandered off. Some scoundrel has found her and taken her to his home. Knowing that her father has money, he holds her for ransom."
"How do you know, Doctor," said Mr. Barnes, quietly, "that 'D. M.' is a he? The communication is in typewriting, so that nothing can be learned from the chirography."
"Of course I don't know it," said the doctor, testily. "Still I'll wager that no woman ever concocted this scheme."
"Again, how should her abductor know that her father is rich?"
"Why, I suppose her name may be on her clothing, and once he discovered her parentage, he would know that. However he found it out, it is plain that he does know, or how could they, or he, or she, if you wish me to be so particular, have written this letter?"
This was unanswerable, so Mr. Barnes remained silent.
"What move will you make first?" asked the doctor.
Mr. Barnes told him of the advertisement which he had inserted, and took his departure, requestingthat if Mr. Gedney received any answer he should be notified at once.
About half-past ten the next morning, Mr. Gedney presented himself to the detective and handed him the following letter:
"I am glad you are sensible. Saw your advertisement, and I answer at once. I want twenty thousand dollars. That is my price. Now note what I have to say, and let me emphasize the fact that I mean every word. This is my first offer. Any dickering will make me increase my price, and I will never decrease it. To save time, let me tell you something else. I have no partner in this, so there is no one to squeal on me. No one on earth but myself knows where the girl is. Now for future arrangements. You will want to communicate with me. I don't mean you to have any chance to catch me with decoy letters or anything of that sort. I know already that you have that keen devil Barnes helping you. But he'll meet his match this time. Here is my plan. You, or your detective, I don't care which, must go to the public telephone station in the Hoffman House at two o'clock sharp. I will go to another, never mind where, and will ring you up. When you answer, I will simply say, 'D. M.' You will recognize the signal and can do the talking. I will not answer except by letter, because I won't even run the risk of that detective's hearing my voice, and some time in the future recognizing it. You see, I may need Barnes myself some day andwouldn't like to be deprived of his valuable services. I enclose a piece of the girl's cloth dress and a lock of her hair to show that I am dealing square."D. M."
"I am glad you are sensible. Saw your advertisement, and I answer at once. I want twenty thousand dollars. That is my price. Now note what I have to say, and let me emphasize the fact that I mean every word. This is my first offer. Any dickering will make me increase my price, and I will never decrease it. To save time, let me tell you something else. I have no partner in this, so there is no one to squeal on me. No one on earth but myself knows where the girl is. Now for future arrangements. You will want to communicate with me. I don't mean you to have any chance to catch me with decoy letters or anything of that sort. I know already that you have that keen devil Barnes helping you. But he'll meet his match this time. Here is my plan. You, or your detective, I don't care which, must go to the public telephone station in the Hoffman House at two o'clock sharp. I will go to another, never mind where, and will ring you up. When you answer, I will simply say, 'D. M.' You will recognize the signal and can do the talking. I will not answer except by letter, because I won't even run the risk of that detective's hearing my voice, and some time in the future recognizing it. You see, I may need Barnes myself some day andwouldn't like to be deprived of his valuable services. I enclose a piece of the girl's cloth dress and a lock of her hair to show that I am dealing square.
"D. M."
"Mr. Gedney," said Mr. Barnes, "make your mind easy. Your daughter is safe, at all events. I suppose this bit of cloth and the hair satisfy you that the scoundrel really has her?"
"Yes, I am convinced of that. But how does that make the girl safe?"
"The fellow wants the money. It is to his interest to be able to restore your daughter. My business shall be to get her without payment of ransom, and to catch the abductor. I'll meet you at the Hoffman House at two o'clock."
As soon as Mr. Gedney had gone, Mr. Barnes wrote the following note:
"Dr. Donaldson:—"Dear Sir—I believe that I am on the right track, and all through the clue supplied by yourself. Please aid me a little further. I would like to know the exact size of the missing girl. As a physician, you will supply this even better than the father. Also inform me of any mark or peculiarity by which I might recognize her, alive or dead. Please answer at once."Yours truly,"J. Barnes."
"Dr. Donaldson:—
"Dear Sir—I believe that I am on the right track, and all through the clue supplied by yourself. Please aid me a little further. I would like to know the exact size of the missing girl. As a physician, you will supply this even better than the father. Also inform me of any mark or peculiarity by which I might recognize her, alive or dead. Please answer at once.
"Yours truly,
"J. Barnes."
This he sent by a messenger, and received the following in reply:
"Mr. Barnes:—"Dear Sir—I hope you will succeed. Elinora is small and slim, being rather undersized for her age. I should say about four feet ten inches, or thereabout. I know of no distinctive mark whereby her body could be recognized, and hope that nothing of the sort seemingly suggested may be necessary."Yours truly,"Robert Donaldson, M.D."
"Mr. Barnes:—
"Dear Sir—I hope you will succeed. Elinora is small and slim, being rather undersized for her age. I should say about four feet ten inches, or thereabout. I know of no distinctive mark whereby her body could be recognized, and hope that nothing of the sort seemingly suggested may be necessary.
"Yours truly,
"Robert Donaldson, M.D."
Mr. Barnes read this, and appeared more pleased than its contents seemed to authorize. At the appointed time he went to the Hoffman House. He found Mr. Gedney impatiently walking up and down the lobby.
"Mr. Gedney," said he, "at the beginning of this case you offered me my own price for recovering your daughter. Now, supposing that you pay this ransom, it would appear that you would have had little need of my services. If, however, I get your daughter, and save you the necessity of paying any ransom at all, I suppose you will admit that I have earned my reward?"
"Most assuredly."
After this, Mr. Gedney was rather startled when he heard what the detective said to "D. M." through the telephone. They shut themselves up in the little box, and very soon received the call andthen the signal "D. M." as agreed. Mr. Barnes spoke to the abductor, who presumably was listening.
"We agree to your terms," said he. "That is, we will pay twenty thousand dollars for the return of the girl unharmed. You are so shrewd that we suppose you will invent some scheme for receiving the money which will protect you from arrest, but at the same time we must be assured that the girl will be returned to us unharmed. In fact, she must be given to us as soon as the money is paid. Notify us immediately, as the father is in a hurry."
Mr. Barnes put up the instrument and "rang off." Then he turned to Mr. Gedney and said:
"That may surprise you. But what may astonish you more is that you must obtain twenty thousand dollars in cash at once. We will need it. Ask no questions, but depend upon me and trust me."
On the next day Mr. Gedney received the following letter:
"You have more sense than I gave you credit for. So has that Barnes fellow, for it was his voice I heard through the 'phone. You accept my terms. Very well. I'll deal square and not raise you, though I ought to have made it twenty-five thousand at least. Come to the 'phone to-day, same hour, and I'll ring you up, from a different station. Then you can tell me if you will be ready to-night, or to-morrow night. Either will suit me. Then here is the plan. You want to be sure the girl is all right. Then let theambassador be your friend, Doctor Donaldson. He knows the girl and can tell that she is all right. Let him start from his house at midnight, and drive from his office up Madison Avenue rapidly till hailed by the signal 'D. M.' He must go fast enough to prevent being followed on foot. If there is no detective with him or following him, he will be hailed. Otherwise he will be allowed to pass. I will be in hiding with the girl. Warn the doctor that I will be armed, and will have a bead on him all the time. Any treachery will mean death. I will take the cash, give up the girl, and the transaction will be ended."
"You have more sense than I gave you credit for. So has that Barnes fellow, for it was his voice I heard through the 'phone. You accept my terms. Very well. I'll deal square and not raise you, though I ought to have made it twenty-five thousand at least. Come to the 'phone to-day, same hour, and I'll ring you up, from a different station. Then you can tell me if you will be ready to-night, or to-morrow night. Either will suit me. Then here is the plan. You want to be sure the girl is all right. Then let theambassador be your friend, Doctor Donaldson. He knows the girl and can tell that she is all right. Let him start from his house at midnight, and drive from his office up Madison Avenue rapidly till hailed by the signal 'D. M.' He must go fast enough to prevent being followed on foot. If there is no detective with him or following him, he will be hailed. Otherwise he will be allowed to pass. I will be in hiding with the girl. Warn the doctor that I will be armed, and will have a bead on him all the time. Any treachery will mean death. I will take the cash, give up the girl, and the transaction will be ended."
When this was shown to the detective, he proposed that he and Mr. Gedney should call upon the doctor. This they did, and, after some argument, persuaded him to undertake the recovery of the girl that same night.
"Mr. Gedney has decided to obtain his child at any sacrifice," said Mr. Barnes, "and this scoundrel is so shrewd that there seems to be no way to entrap him. No effort will be made to follow you, so you need have no fear of any trouble from the thief. Only be sure that you obtain the right girl. It would be just possible that a wrong one might be given to you, and a new ransom demanded."
"Oh, I shall know Elinora," said the doctor. "I will do this, but I think we ought to arrest the villain, if possible."
"I do not despair of doing so," said Mr. Barnes."Get a glimpse of his face if you can, and be sure to note where you receive the girl. When we get her she may give me a clue upon which an arrest may be made. We will wait for you at Mr. Gedney's house."
After midnight that night, Mr. Gedney paced the floor anxiously, while Mr. Barnes sat at a desk looking over some memoranda. Presently he went into the hall and had a long talk with the butler. One o'clock passed, and still no news. At half-past, however, horses' hoofs sounded upon the asphalt pavement, and a few minutes later the door-bell jingled. The door was quickly opened, and the doctor entered, bearing little Elinora asleep in his arms.
"My daughter!" exclaimed the excited father. "Thank God, she is restored to me!"
"Yes," said the doctor, "here she is, safe and sound. I think, though, that she has been drugged, for she has slept ever since I received her."
"Did you have any trouble?" asked Mr. Barnes, entering at this moment. He had lingered outside in the hall long enough to exchange a word with the butler.
"None," said the doctor. "At One Hundred and Second Street I heard the signal and stopped. A man came out of the shadow of a building, looked into the carriage, said 'All right,' and asked if I had the cash. I replied affirmatively. He went back to the sidewalk and returned with the child in his arms, but with a pistol pointed at me. Thenhe said, 'Pass out the money.' I did so, and he seemed satisfied, for he gave me the child, took the package, and ran off. I saw his face, but I fear my description will not avail you, for I am sure he was disguised."
"Very possibly your description will be useless," said Mr. Barnes; "but I have discovered the identity of the abductor."
"Impossible!" cried the doctor, amazed.
"Let me prove that I am right," said Mr. Barnes. He went to the door and admitted the butler, accompanied by the policeman who had been off his beat talking with the maid. Before his companions understood what was about to happen, Mr. Barnes said:
"Officer, arrest that man!" Whereupon the policeman seized the doctor and held him as though in a vise.
"What does this outrage mean?" screamed the doctor, after ineffectually endeavoring to release himself.
"Put on the manacles, officer," said Mr. Barnes; "then we can talk. He is armed, and might become dangerous." With the assistance of the detective this was accomplished, and then Mr. Barnes addressed himself to Mr. Gedney.
"Mr. Gedney, I had some slight suspicion of the truth after questioning the butler and the maid, but the first real clue came with the answer to the 'Personal.' You brought that to me in the morning, and I noted that it was postmarked at the main officedowntown at sixa.m.Of course, it was possible that it might have been written after the appearance of the newspaper, but if so, the thief was up very early. The doctor, however, knew of the 'Personal' on the day previous, as I told him of it in your presence. That letter was written in typewriting, and I observed a curious error in the spelling of three words. I found the words 'emphasize,' 'recognize,' and 'recognizing.' In each, instead of the 'z,' we have a repetition of the 'i,' that letter being doubled. I happen to know something about writing-machines. I felt certain that this letter had been written upon a Caligraph. In that machine the bar which carries the letter 'i' is next to that which carries the letter 'z.' It is not an uncommon thing when a typewriter is out of order for two bars to fail to pass one another. Thus, in writing 'emphasize' the rapid writer would strike the 'z' key before the 'i' had fully descended. The result would be that the 'z,' rising, would strike the 'i' bar and carry it up again, thus doubling the 'i,' instead of writing 'iz.' The repetition of the mistake was evidence that it was a faulty machine. I also noted that this anonymous letter was upon paper from which the top had been torn away. I wrote to the doctor here, asking about the 'size' of the girl, and for any marks whereby we might be able to 'recognize' the body. I used the words 'size' and 'recognize,' hoping to tempt him to use them also in reply. In his answer I find the word 'recognized' and also a similar word, 'undersized.' In both we have a repetitionof the double 'i' error. Moreover, the paper of this letter from the doctor matched that upon which the anonymous communication had been written, provided I tore off the top, which bore his letterhead. This satisfied me that the doctor was our man. When the last letter came, proposing that he should be the ambassador, the trick was doubly sure. It was ingenious, for the abductor of course assured himself that he was not followed, and simply brought the girl home. But I set another trap. I secretly placed a cyclometer upon the doctor's carriage. He says that to-night he drove to One Hundred and Second Street, and back here, a total of ten miles. The cyclometer, which the butler obtained for me when the doctor arrived a while ago, shows that he drove less than a mile. He simply waited at his house until the proper time to come, and then drove here, bringing the girl with him."
The doctor remained silent, but glared venomously at the man who had outwitted him.
"But how did he get Elinora?" asked Mr. Gedney.
"That queer yarn which he told us about somnambulism first suggested to me that he was possibly less ignorant than he pretended to be. I fear, Mr. Gedney, that your daughter is ill. I judge from the description of her condition, given by her maid, and admitted by this man, that she was suffering from an attack of catalepsy when he was summoned. When he called the next day, finding the girl stillin a trance, he quickly dressed her and took her out to his carriage. Then he coolly returned, announced that she was not in her room, and drove away with her."
"It seems incredible!" exclaimed Mr. Gedney. "I have known the doctor so long that it is hard to believe that he is a criminal."
"Criminals," said Mr. Barnes, "are often created by opportunity. That was probably the case here. The case is most peculiar. It is a crime which none but a physician could have conceived, and that one fact makes possible what to a casual observer might seem most improbable. An abduction is rarely successful, because of the difficulties which attend the crime, not the least of which are the struggles of the victim, and the story which will be told after the return of the child. Here all this was obviated. The doctor recognized catalepsy at the first visit. Perhaps during the night the possibility of readily compelling you to pay him a large sum of money grew into a tremendous temptation. With the project half formed, he called the next morning. Circumstances favored the design. He found the girl unattended, and unresistant because of her condition. He likewise knew that when he should have returned her, she could tell nothing of where she had been, because of her trance. He started downstairs with her. There was no risk. If he had met any one, any excuse for bringing her from her room would have been accepted, because uttered by the family physician. He placed her in the carriage unobserved,and the most difficult part of the affair was accomplished. Many men of high degree are at heart rascals; but through fear, either of law or loss of position, they lead fairly virtuous lives. Temptation, accompanied by opportunity, coming to one of these, compasses his downfall, as has occurred in this instance. Criminals are recruited from all classes."
The ransom money was recovered by searching the apartments of the doctor, and his guilt was thus indubitably proven. Mr. Mitchel, commenting upon the affair, simply said:
"I sent you to him, Mr. Gedney, because Mr. Barnes is above his kind. He is no ordinary detective."
THE AZTEC OPAL
"Mr. Mitchel," began Mr. Barnes, after exchanging greetings, "I have called to see you upon a subject which I am sure will enlist your keenest interest, for several reasons. It relates to a magnificent jewel; it concerns your intimate friends; and it is a problem requiring the most analytical qualities of the mind in its solution."
"Ah, then you have solved it?" asked Mr. Mitchel.
"I think so. You shall judge. I have to-day been called in to investigate one of the most singular cases that has fallen in my way. It is one in which the usual detective methods would be utterly valueless. The facts were presented to me, and the solution of the mystery could only be reached by analytical deductions."
"That is to say, by using your brains?"
"Precisely. Now, as you have admitted that you consider yourself more expert in this direction than the ordinary detective, I wish to place you for once in the position of a detective, and then see you prove your ability."
"Early this morning I was summoned, by a messenger, to go aboard of the steam yachtIdlerwhich lay at anchor in the lower bay."
"Why, theIdlerbelongs to my friend, Mortimer Gray!" exclaimed Mr. Mitchel.
"Yes," replied Mr. Barnes; "I told you that your friends are interested. I went immediately with the man who had come to my office, and in due season I was aboard of the yacht. Mr. Gray received me very politely, and took me to his private room adjoining the cabin. Here he explained to me that he had been off on a cruise for a few weeks, and was approaching the harbor last night, when, in accordance with his plans, a sumptuous dinner was served, as a sort of farewell feast, the party expecting to separate to-day."
"What guests were on the yacht?"
"I will tell you everything in order, as the facts were presented to me. Mr. Gray enumerated the party as follows: besides himself and his wife, there were his wife's sister, Mrs. Eugene Cortlandt, and her husband, a Wall Street broker; also, Mr. Arthur Livingstone and his sister, and a Mr. Dennett Moore, a young man supposed to be devoting himself to Miss Livingstone."
"That makes seven persons, three of whom are women. I ought to say, Mr. Barnes, that, though Mr. Gray is a club friend, I am not personally acquainted with his wife, nor with the others. So I have no advantage over you."
"I will come at once to the curious incident whichmade my presence desirable. According to Mr. Gray's story, the dinner had proceeded as far as the roast, when suddenly there was a slight shock as the yacht touched a bar, and at the same time the lamps spluttered and then went out, leaving the room totally dark. A second later the vessel righted herself and sped on, so that, before any panic ensued, it was evident to all that the danger had passed. The gentlemen begged the ladies to resume their seats, and remain quiet till the lamps were lighted; this, however, the attendants were unable to do, and they were ordered to bring fresh lamps. Thus there was almost total darkness for several minutes."
"During which, I presume, the person who planned the affair readily consummated his design?"
"So you think that the whole series of events was prearranged? Be that as it may, something did happen in that dark room. The women had started from their seats when the yacht touched, and when they groped their way back in the darkness some of them found the wrong places, as was seen when the fresh lamps were brought. This was considered a good joke, and there was some laughter, which was suddenly checked by an exclamation from Mr. Gray, who quickly asked his wife, 'Where is your opal?'"
"Her opal?" asked Mr. Mitchel, in tones which showed that his greatest interest was now aroused. "Do you mean, Mr. Barnes, that she was wearing the Aztec Opal?"
"Oh, you know the gem?"
"I know nearly all gems of great value; but what of this one?"
"Mrs. Gray and her sister, Mrs. Cortlandt, had both donneddécolletécostumes for this occasion, and Mrs. Gray had worn this opal as a pendant to a thin gold chain which hung around her neck. At Mr. Gray's question, all looked towards his wife, and it was noted that the clasp was open, and the opal missing. Of course it was supposed that it had merely fallen to the floor, and a search was immediately instituted. But the opal could not be found."
"That is certainly a very significant fact," said Mr. Mitchel. "But was the search thorough?"
"I should say extremely thorough, when we consider it was not conducted by a detective, who is supposed to be an expert in such matters. Mr. Gray described to me what was done, and he seems to have taken every precaution. He sent the attendants out of thesalon, and he and his guests systematically examined every part of the room."
"Except the place where the opal really was concealed, you mean."
"With that exception, of course, since they did not find the jewel. Not satisfied with this search by lamplight, Mr. Gray locked thesalon, so that no one could enter it during the night, and another investigation was made in the morning."
"The pockets of the seven persons present were not examined, I presume?"
"No. I asked Mr. Gray why this had been omitted, and he said it was an indignity which hecould not possibly show to a guest. As you have asked this question, Mr. Mitchel, it is only fair for me to tell you that when I spoke to Mr. Gray on the subject he seemed very much confused. Nevertheless, however unwilling he may have been to search those of his guests who are innocent, he emphatically told me that if I had reasonable proof that any one present had purloined the opal, he wished that individual to be treated as any other thief, without regard to sex or social position."
"One can scarcely blame him, because that opal is worth a fabulous sum. I have myself offered Gray twenty thousand dollars for it, which was refused. This opal is one of the eyes of an Aztec idol, and if the other could be found, the two would be as interesting as any jewels in the world."
"That is the story which I was asked to unravel," continued Mr. Barnes, "and I must now relate to you what steps I have taken towards that end. It appears that, because of the loss of the jewel, no person has left the yacht, although no restraint was placed upon anyone by Mr. Gray. All knew, however, that he had sent for a detective, and it was natural that no one should offer to go until formally dismissed by the host. My plan, then, was to have a private interview with each of the seven persons who had been present at the dinner."
"Then you exempted the attendants from your suspicions?"
"I did. There was but one way by which one of the servants could have stolen the opal, and this wasprevented by Mr. Gray. It was possible that the opal had fallen on the floor, and, though not found at night, a servant might have discovered and have appropriated it on the following morning, had he been able to enter thesalon. But Mr. Gray had locked the doors. No servant, however bold, would have been able to take the opal from the lady's neck."
"I think your reasoning is good, and we will confine ourselves to the original seven."
"After my interview with Mr. Gray, I asked to have Mrs. Gray sent in to me. She came in, and at once I noted that she placed herself on the defensive. Women frequently adopt that manner with a detective. Her story was very brief. The main point was that she was aware of the theft before the lamps were relighted. In fact, she felt some one's arms steal around her neck, and knew when the opal was taken. I asked why she had made no outcry, and whether she suspected any special person. To these questions she replied that she supposed it was merely a joke perpetrated in the darkness, and therefore had made no resistance. She would not name anyone as suspected by her, but she was willing to tell me that the arms were bare, as she detected when they touched her neck. I must say here, that although Miss Livingstone's dress was not cut low in the neck, it was, practically, sleeveless; and Mrs. Cortlandt's dress had no sleeves at all. One other significant statement made by this lady was that her husband had mentioned to her your offer of twentythousand dollars for the opal, and had urged her to permit him to sell it, but she had refused."
"So it was madame who would not sell? The plot thickens."
"You will observe, of course, the point about the naked arms of the thief. I therefore sent for Mrs. Cortlandt next. She had a curious story to tell. Unlike her sister, she was quite willing to express her suspicions. Indeed, she plainly intimated that she supposed that Mr. Gray himself had taken the jewel. I will endeavor to repeat her words.
"'Mr. Barnes,' said she, 'the affair is very simple. Gray is a miserable old skinflint. A Mr. Mitchel, a crank who collects gems, offered to buy that opal, and he has been bothering my sister for it ever since. When the lamps went out, he took the opportunity to steal it. I do not think this—I know it. How? Well, on account of the confusion and darkness, I sat in my sister's seat when I returned to the table; this explains his mistake. He put his arms around my neck, and deliberately felt for the opal. I did not understand his purpose at the time, but now it is very evident.'
"'Yes, madame,' said I, 'but how do you know it was Mr. Gray?'
"'Why, I grabbed his hand, and before he could pull it away I felt the large cameo ring on his little finger. Oh, there is no doubt whatever.'
"I asked her whether Mr. Gray had his sleeves rolled up, and, though she could not understand the purport of the question, she said 'No.' Next I hadMiss Livingstone come in. She is a slight, tremulous young lady, who cries at the slightest provocation. During the interview, brief as it was, it was only by the greatest diplomacy that I avoided a scene of hysterics. She tried very hard to convince me that she knew absolutely nothing. She had not left her seat during the disturbance; of that she was sure. So how could she know anything about it? I asked her to name the one who she thought might have taken the opal, and at this her agitation reached such a climax that I was obliged to let her go."
"You gained very little from her, I should say."
"In a case of this kind, Mr. Mitchel, where the criminal is surely one of a very few persons, we cannot fail to gain something from each person's story. A significant feature here was that though Miss Livingstone assures us that she did not leave her seat, she was sitting in a different place when the lamps were lighted again."
"That might mean anything or nothing."
"Exactly. But we are not deducing values yet. Mr. Dennett Moore came to me next, and he is a straightforward, honest man if I ever saw one. He declared that the whole affair was a great mystery to him, and that, while ordinarily he would not care anything about it, he could not but be somewhat interested, because he thought that one of the ladies, he would not say which one, suspected him. Mr. Livingstone also impressed me favorably, in spite of the fact that he did not remove his cigarette from his mouth throughout the whole of my interviewwith him. He declined to name the person suspected by him, though he admitted that he could do so. He made this significant remark:
"'You are a detective of experience, Mr. Barnes, and ought to be able to decide which man amongst us could place his arms around Mrs. Gray's neck without causing her to cry out. But if your imagination fails you, suppose you inquire into the financial standing of all of us, and see which one would be most likely to profit by thieving? Ask Mr. Cortlandt.'"
"Evidently Mr. Livingstone knows more than he tells."
"Yet he told enough for one to guess his suspicions, and to understand the delicacy which prompted him to say no more. He, however, gave me a good point upon which to question Mr. Cortlandt. When I asked that gentleman if any of the men happened to be in pecuniary difficulties, he became grave at once. I will give you his answer.
"'Mr. Livingstone and Mr. Moore are both exceedingly wealthy men, and I am a millionaire, in very satisfactory business circumstances at present. But I am very sorry to say that though our host, Mr. Gray, is also a distinctly rich man, he has met with some reverses recently, and I can conceive that ready money would be useful to him. But for all that, it is preposterous to believe what your question evidently indicates. None of the persons in this party is a thief, and least of all could we suspect Mr. Gray. I am sure that if he wished his wife'sopal, she would give it to him cheerfully. No, Mr. Barnes, the opal is in some crack or crevice which we have overlooked. It is lost, not stolen.'
"That ended the interview with the several persons present, but I made one or two other inquiries, from which I elicited at least two significant facts. First, it was Mr. Gray himself who had indicated the course by which the yacht was steered last night, and which ran her over a sand-bar. Second, some one had nearly emptied the oil from the lamps, so that they would have burned out in a short time, even though the yacht had not touched."
"These, then, are your facts. And from these you have solved the problem. Well, Mr. Barnes, who stole the opal?"
"Mr. Mitchel, I have told you all I know, but I wish you to work out a solution before I reveal my own opinion."
"I have already done so, Mr. Barnes. Here; I will write my suspicion on a bit of paper. So. Now tell me yours, and you shall know mine afterwards."
"Why, to my mind it is very simple. Mr. Gray, failing to obtain the opal from his wife by fair means, resorted to a trick. He removed the oil from the lamps, and charted out a course for his yacht which would take her over a sand-bar, and when the opportune moment came he stole the jewel. His actions since then have been merely to cover his crime by shrouding the affair with mystery. By insisting upon a thorough search, and even sendingfor a detective, he makes it impossible for those who were present to accuse him hereafter. Undoubtedly Mr. Cortlandt's opinion will be the one generally adopted. Now what do you think?"
"I think I will go with you at once, and board the yachtIdler."
"But you have not told me whom you suspect," said Mr. Barnes, somewhat irritated.
"Oh, that is immaterial," said Mr. Mitchel, calmly preparing for the street. "I do not suspect Mr. Gray, so if you are correct you will have shown better ability than I. Come, let us hurry."
On their way to the dock from which they were to take the little steam launch which was waiting to carry the detective back to the yacht, Mr. Barnes asked Mr. Mitchel the following question:
"Mr. Mitchel," said he, "you will note that Mrs. Cortlandt alluded to you as a 'crank who collects gems.' I must admit that I have myself harbored a great curiosity as to your reasons for purchasing jewels which are valued beyond a mere conservative commercial price. Would you mind explaining why you began your collection?"
"I seldom explain my motives to others, especially when they relate to my more important pursuits in life. But in view of all that has passed between us, I think your curiosity justifiable, and I will gratify it. To begin with, I am a very wealthy man. I inherited great riches, and I have made a fortune myself. Have you any conception of the difficulties which harass a man of means?"
"Perhaps not in minute detail, though I can guess that the lot of the rich is not as free from care as the pauper thinks it is."
"The point is this: the difficulty with a poor man is to get rich, while with the rich man the greatest trouble is to prevent the increase of his wealth. Some men, of course, make no effort in that direction, and those men are a menace to society. My own idea of the proper use of a fortune is to manage it for the benefit of others, as well as one's self, and especially to prevent its increase."
"And is it so difficult to do this? Cannot money be spent without limit?"
"Yes; but unlimited evil follows such a course. This is sufficient to indicate to you that I am ever in search of a legitimate means of spending my income, provided that I may do good thereby. If I can do this, and at the same time afford myself pleasure, I claim that I am making the best use of my money. Now, I happen to be so constituted that the most interesting studies to me are social problems, and of these I am most entertained with the causes and environments of crime. Such a problem as the one you have brought to me to-day is of immense attractiveness to me, because the environment is one which is commonly supposed to preclude rather than to invite crime. Yet we have seen that despite the wealth of all concerned, some one has stooped to the commonest of crimes,—theft."
"But what has this to do with your collection of jewels?"
"Everything. Jewels—especially those of great magnitude—seem to be a special cause of crime. A hundred-carat diamond will tempt a man to theft as surely as the false beacon on a rocky shore entices the mariner to wreck and ruin. All the great jewels of the world have murder and other crimes woven in their histories. My attention was first called to this by accidentally hearing a plot at a ball to rob the lady of the house of a large ruby which she wore on her breast. I went to her, and told her enough to persuade her to sell the stone to me. I fastened it into my scarf, where the plotters might see it if they remained at the ball. By my act I prevented a crime that night."
"Then am I to understand that you buy jewels with that end in view?"
"After that night I conceived this idea. If all the great jewels in the world could be collected together, and put in a place of safety, hundreds of crimes would be prevented, even before they had been conceived. Moreover, the search for, and acquirement of, these jewels would necessarily afford me abundant opportunity for studying the crimes which are perpetrated in order to gain possession of them. Thus you understand more thoroughly why I am anxious to pursue this problem of the Aztec Opal."
Several hours later Mr. Mitchel and Mr. Barnes were sitting at a quiet table in the corner of the dining-room at Mr. Mitchel's club. On board the yacht Mr. Mitchel had acted rather mysteriously.He had been closeted a while with Mr. Gray, after which he had had an interview with two or three of the others. Then, when Mr. Barnes had begun to feel neglected, and tired of waiting alone on the deck, Mr. Mitchel had come towards him, arm in arm with Mr. Gray, and the latter had said:
"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Barnes, for your services in this affair, and I trust the enclosed check will remunerate you for your trouble."
Mr. Barnes, not quite comprehending it all, had attempted to protest, but Mr. Mitchel had taken him by the arm, and hurried him off. In the cab which bore them to the club the detective asked for an explanation, but Mr. Mitchel only replied:
"I am too hungry to talk now. We will have dinner first."
The dinner was over at last, and nuts and coffee were before them, when Mr. Mitchel took a small parcel from his pocket, and handed it to Mr. Barnes, saying:
"It is a beauty, is it not?"
Mr. Barnes removed the tissue paper, and a large opal fell on the table-cloth, where it sparkled with a thousand colors under the electric lamps.
"Do you mean that this is——" cried the detective.
"The Aztec Opal, and the finest harlequin I ever saw," interrupted Mr. Mitchel. "But you wish to know how it came into my possession? Principally so that it may join the collection and cease to be a temptation in this world of wickedness."
"Then Mr. Gray did not steal it?" asked Mr. Barnes, with a touch of chagrin in his voice.
"No, Mr. Barnes. Mr. Gray did not steal it. But you are not to consider yourself very much at fault. Mr. Gray tried to steal it, only he failed. That was not your fault, of course. You read his actions aright, but you did not give enough weight to the stories of the others."
"What important point did I omit from my calculations?"
"I might mention the bare arms which Mrs. Gray said she felt around her neck. It was evidently Mr. Gray who looked for the opal on the neck of his sister-in-law, but as he did not bare his arms before approaching her, he would not have done so later."
"Do you mean that Miss Livingstone was the thief?"
"No. Being hysterical, Miss Livingstone changed her seat without realizing it, but that does not make her a thief. Her excitement when with you was due to her suspicions, which, by the way, were correct. But let us return for a moment to the bare arms. That was the clue from which I worked. It was evident to me that the thief was a man, and it was equally plain that, in the hurry of the few moments of darkness, no man would have rolled up his sleeves, risking the return of the attendants with lamps, and the consequent discovery of himself in such a singular disarrangement of costume."
"How do you account for the bare arms?"
"The lady did not tell the truth, that is all. The arms which encircled her neck were not bare. Neither were they unknown to her. She told you that lie to shield the thief. She also told you that her husband wished to sell the Aztec Opal to me, but that she had refused. Thus she deftly led you to suspect him. Now, if she wished to shield the thief, yet was willing to accuse her husband, it followed that the husband was not the thief."
"Very well reasoned, Mr. Mitchel. I see now where you are tending, but I shall not get ahead of your story."
"So much I had deduced before we went on board the yacht. When I found myself alone with Gray I candidly told him of your suspicions, and your reasons for harboring them. He was very much disturbed, and pleadingly asked me what I thought. As frankly, I told him that I believed that he had tried to take the opal from his wife,—we can scarcely call it stealing since the law does not,—but that I believed he had failed. He then confessed; admitted emptying the lamps, though he denied running the boat on the sand-bar. But he assured me that he had not reached his wife's chair when the lamps were brought in. He was, therefore, much astonished at missing the gem. I promised him to find the jewel upon condition that he would sell it to me. To this he most willingly acceded."
"But how could you be sure that you would recover the opal?"