An Artist in Crime

"Let us drop this nonsense, Mr. Mitchel. You know very well that that child was removed for a purpose, else she would not be hidden away. If Miss Remsen had a hand in this, she was aiding you to baffle detective investigation, and that was an illegal act. Therefore we have the right to watch her, in order to discover what we can."

"Very well, then we will grant you that privilege. Much good may it do you. But as to the removal of the child, that was done because your spy Lucette had discovered where she was, and I did not choose to have her annoyed."

"What makes you so certain that this Lucette was my spy, as you term it?"

"Well, I don't mind telling you that, though perhaps I am showing my hand a little. Let us go to the beginning. In the first place you knew about my bet, and I knew that you knew that much. From that starting-point what more natural than for me to suppose that you would begin by having me shadowed. To be sure of this, I made a few trips on the elevated road, a structure peculiarly applicable for such a test, with the result of course that I soon became pretty well acquainted with your assistant. Whenever I had nothing else to do, I would amuse myself getting away from him. You gave me occupation for several hours I assure you. But to come to Lucette. I guessed that the next step in your game would be to supply spy number two, who would take up the trail wherever spy number one would lose it. I began to look for this second man. See, I admit that I did not count upon a woman. You beat me there, or almost did. I don't suppose you told the girl to let me see her face, eh?" Mr. Barnes made no reply, though to himself he said, "Just as I told the fool." Mr. Mitchel went on: "At last one day, just as I was getting on a train, a smart-looking young woman came out of the waiting-room and followed me aboard. Purely from habit I walked through the train to the first coach. I ride in that because it is the coolest in summer and the least draughty in winter. Now there were several cross seats empty in the coaches through which I passed, and as the young woman behind me did not take one, but followed me through the train, I became suspicious. When she sat down opposite to me, of course I studied her face. I hardly ever forget a face after I have made a mental note of it. The rest was simple. She was sharp enough not to get off the train when I did, and I dismissed her from my mind. Thus I suppose she was enabled to follow me to the Irving Place house. But of course I recognized her at once when I saw her at Miss Remsen's."

"Did I understand you to say that this Rose Mitchel is your daughter?"

"I don't know what you understood, but I did not say so. I spoke of her just as you did, 'Rose Mitchel, who passed as my daughter.'"

"Well, then, is she your daughter?"

"I decline to answer."

"Why do you do so?"

"I must decline to reply to that also."

"Do you not see, Mr. Mitchel, you are simply making your actions more and more suspicious?"

"My dear Mr. Barnes, I do not care a straw how much suspicion I arouse, so long as I am not confronted by any proof. Whenever you think you have any proof against me, come to me and I will endeavor to refute it."

"Very well. You have asked me to discover who stole Miss Remsen's ruby. I have already done so."

"Mr. Barnes, you are a genius. Who is it?"

"Yourself."

"Bosh! Can't you do better than that? Why, I have been sick abed here for over three days."

"Mr. Mitchel, you are caught this time. You were not sick abed here at the time of the robbery. On the contrary you went over to New York, attended the festival, and took the ruby pin from Miss Remsen's hair."

"Mr. Barnes, you are laboring under a delusion. I tell you I have been in this room since December 30th."

"One of my men followed you to this place. On the night of the 1st, he registered at this hotel, being assigned to the room next to this. He picked the lock of the communicating door, and came in here, thus discovering your absence."

"Very clever idea, I am sure. The fellow deserves credit. But did he tell you which communicating door he came through?"

Mr. Barnes looked around and was amazed to find that the only door in the room opened on the hall. The story told by his man was thus an impossibility. A thought came to him quickly and he said:

"You have changed to another room since then. You were at that time in No. 234."

"And this is number 342, a floor higher up. But you are wrong; I have not changed my room. I will explain how your man has made this mistake. I knew when I came here that your spy had probably followed me. I was tired of the espionage. This is what I did. I registered and was given number 234. I was shown to the room and at once sent for the clerk. When he came up I asked for another room, and desired him not to make any change on the register, as I had an inquisitive friend who would not hesitate to walk right up if he knew what room I was in. I explained that I wished to avoid him. My request was granted. I suppose your man asked for a room near that of his "friend Mr. Mitchel." The clerk at once thought him to be the man whom I wished to avoid, and gave him a room next to 234, which of course satisfied him, and I am sure pleased me as well."

Mr. Barnes was supremely disgusted, especially as, during the interview, he had become thoroughly satisfied that Mr. Mitchel was really sick and troubled with a bad cough. He returned to New York puzzled.

CHAPTER XII.

THE HISTORY OF THE RUBY

During the next two weeks there were numerous references to the ruby robbery in the daily papers. Interviews were published purporting to have been held with every one of note who had been present. The police were twitted with their inability to discover the thief. The detectives from the central office came and went mysteriously, and were silent to all questioners, the while maintaining an expression which plainly said, "We could an' if we would." One or two persons were even arrested, only to be promptly discharged when brought before the committing magistrates. So that interest in the affair soon died out. Another crime occurred, and all New York had something else to talk of. The Remsen ruby was forgotten by the masses.

Mr. Barnes, however, thought of little else. He racked his brain for a promising starting-point, and the more he thought, the more he was tempted to make a trip to New Orleans, to unravel this, as he had many other mysteries, "from the other end." Yet he hated to leave the scene where were the chief actors in the drama, and, as he felt certain, the principal in one or all of the crimes. At last he resolved to make a move, hoping little from it, yet unwilling longer to rest actually idle in this case. He wrote the following letter:

"Mr. Arthur Randolph:

"Dear Sir – Since you have engaged me to undertake to prove that Mr. Mitchel himself stole the ruby on the night of the festival, I presume that you will consent to give me some assistance in the matter. In the first interview that I had with you you may recall that you stated that your friend, in your opinion, is somewhat insane on the subject of celebrated jewels. You said, in effect, that if he were pressed a little on this line he would drift off into the narration of tales of gems and crimes committed to obtain them. I would much like to hear Mr. Mitchel talk upon his hobby, but, as you know, he is on the defensive with me. Can you in some way arrange to have a talk with him yourself and draw him out, whilst I should be secreted where I could overhear the conversation? I should wish you to mention the loss of the ruby, to suggest, if not charge outright, that he himself has taken the gem; and when he denies it, as he surely will, ask him whether there is any peculiar story connected with it – that is, whether it has ever been stolen before. From such a conversation I might get a hint, which, seeming as nothing to you, might be valuable to me. Will you do this? Remember you yourself said that 'all is fair,' etc.

Yours truly,"J. Barnes."

In reply to this he received a note asking him to meet Mr. Randolph at his club on the following evening.

The next afternoon Mr. Mitchel called at the Hoffman House and went up to the room occupied by Mr. Thauret, finding that gentleman at home. Mr. Thauret advanced to meet him, and the two shook hands cordially.

"Thauret," began Mr. Mitchel, "I want to talk to you seriously about that jewel robbery."

"I am all attention," said Mr. Thauret, lighting a cigarette and dropping into a comfortable rocking-chair.

"To begin with, let me recapitulate. I will go back to our partnership arrangement. You and I became, in a way, secret partners, or, perhaps, 'gambling pals' would be more accurate. At that time I agreed to furnish the capital for our operations up to a certain point. I believe I have done so, in spite of the fact that our losses have been rather heavy, and the further fact that you confidentially told me that you had a method, or a system, by which losses could be avoided, or at least controlled. Am I accurate?"

"Quite so, my friend. You have proven yourself an admirable silent partner, since you have allowed me to have my own way, paying the bills and asking no questions, till now. Am I to understand that the losses annoy you, and that you wish an explanation?"

"You may give me one in a moment. There is another point. You promised to drop Adrian Fisher."

"Well?"

"You have not done so. I requested you to wear the Ali Baba costume the other night, and yet you chose to give it to Fisher. Why was that?"

"It will be more simple to explain about the losses first, and come to Fisher later. As you perhaps know, that detective Barnes has chosen to place a spy at my heels. Under the circumstances, I thought it wise to play the spy upon my spy. Several times I have gone to the club, and then placed myself where I could watch my man. In this way I soon discovered that he had become intimate with one of the club servants. One day I called this fellow, and partly by threatening to have him discharged, but mainly by using money, I got out of him what the detective was asking about me. This was chiefly whether I lose or win when I play cards. I found that the result of every game that I played was being reported. Consequently after that I made it a rule to lose."

"To lose my money!"

"To lose our money, since we are partners. You are simply advancing the funds till I get remittances from Paris. You have my I.O.U.'s. If you are tired of the arrangement, I will pay you at once, though it would be inconvenient."

"No, the money is of no consequence. But tell me, why did you think it best to lose?"

"It is very simple. From the fact that the detectives are investigating this point, it is evident that they had heard of the winnings which I made when Fisher played with me. They may have concluded that I am a card sharper. I wish to dispel that idea."

"Naturally. But now tell me about Fisher. What has this to do with him?"

"As you know, I did not design to attend the festival. You went to Philadelphia, were taken ill, and sent me a letter asking me to take your place, and wear your dress, which I was to obtain by presenting your note to the costumer. I did this, fully intending to carry out your wishes."

"Then how was it that Fisher wore my costume?"

"I am coming to that. Just before leaving for the affair, who should call here but the costumer, who informed me that a man had been to his place, and had catechised him about me, explaining that he was a detective hunting down a celebrated criminal. He showed the fellow your note. Afterwards he regretted having done so, and came to notify me, as he expressed it, 'so that I might not get into any trouble.' I saw at once that this meant that Barnes would be at the festival, or, at any rate, one of his men."

"You were right in that. He was there."

"Yes, but I was not sure of it till after the robbery, when all unmasked. He wore one of the Forty Thieves dominos, and I failed to see through the disguise. With the knowledge thus obtained, I determined to have some amusement at the expense of your great detective, and decided to wear one of the dominos instead of your dress. It was essential, however, that some one should impersonate Ali Baba in order that the tableaux might not be interrupted. Fisher was the only man I could ask to assume the rôle. He acquiesced, and that is all there was to that. I have not taken him up again, I assure you."

"Very good. That is satisfactory. You must pardon my questioning; but after all, I did not understand, and had a right to do so. Tell me, were you near when the robbery occurred? Did you see it done?"

"I must have been near, but I did not see it. I was awaiting to kiss the hand of the Scheherezade when Mr. Barnes suddenly cried out that a robbery had been committed, and ordered masks off. I slipped out of my domino, and went to him as soon as the lights were on."

"You might have suggested to him to search everybody, as he did on the train."

"By George! that is just what I did, but he declined. I guess that train experience made him dubious as to the value of that sort of thing."

At this both men laughed heartily, as though enjoying the discomfiture of the detective.

"It seems," said Mr. Mitchel, "that Barnes suspected that the ruby was to be stolen, and informed Mr. Rawlston early in the evening that there would be thieves in the audience."

"Did he, indeed? Too bad that, with all his shrewdness, he was not able to catch the thief, or thieves rather, eh?"

Once more they both laughed. Then Mr. Mitchel suggested that they should go to the club, and thither they went. Upon entering, the doorkeeper informed Mr. Mitchel that Mr. Randolph was in the parlor and desired to see him. He and Mr. Thauret therefore went into the great reception-room. Mr. Randolph arose as they appeared.

"Good-evening, Randolph," said Mr. Mitchel. "You wish to see me?"

"Oh, nothing special. I came in to dine here, and told the doorman to send you to me in case you should turn up. I wanted company, that is all."

"Don't like to eat alone, eh?"

"That is it. Eating is a nuisance, made tolerable only by good companionship. Mr. Thauret, shall I have a place set for you, also?"

"If you desire, I shall be most happy," said Mr. Thauret.

"Very well," said Mr. Randolph. "I will attend to it. I have some letters to write now, if you will excuse me. Meet me promptly at seven in the private dining-room."

Mr. Randolph left the apartment, and went to the floor above. Here he joined Mr. Barnes, who was awaiting him.

"Well," said the detective, "can you manage it?"

"Everything is arranged. Mitchel is here, and he has brought Thauret with him. I don't understand the intimacy that has sprung up between those two, but that is not to the point. They will dine with me in our private dining-room. I shall arrange that our meal shall be served at a table immediately next to the large portière that separates the private dining-room from the main saloon. I shall also order a dinner for you at a table just on the other side of the curtain. If you have good ears, you should hear all that passes with little difficulty."

"I am satisfied with your arrangement and shall undoubtedly be able to hear at least the greater part of what occurs."

"Very well. Now go to the library, and at the farther end, hidden behind a newspaper file, you will be safe from the observation of prying eyes. Promptly at seven, I and my guests will take our seats. Five minutes later your own place will be in readiness, and you can take it in safety."

Mr. Barnes followed these instructions, and Mr. Randolph went to the dining-room to perfect his arrangements. At seven, on the minute, he was joined by his invited guests, and the three sat at table. Shortly after the noise of dishes on the other side of the portière indicated that Mr. Barnes was being served.

About the third course Mr. Randolph endeavored to lead the conversation in the desired direction.

"I trust," said he, addressing Mitchel, "that you have entirely recovered from that unfortunate illness that prevented you from attending the affair at Rawlston's."

"Oh, yes," said Mitchel, "it was but a temporary matter. The only serious result was that I was kept from the festival. I think I might have saved Miss Remsen from the annoyance of losing her ruby."

"But, Mitchel," said Mr. Randolph, "whilst of course one does not like to lose so valuable a gem, at the same time you can safely replace it."

"What makes you think so?"

"Why, you have so many jewels. Do you know I was saying only recently that any one who, like you, would hoard up rare gems, keeping them locked in a vault where no one can see them, is in a way insane. I was glad when you gave that ruby to Miss Remsen, and took it as a symptom of returning lucidity that you should unearth one of your hidden treasures. I have no doubt that you have others like it buried in some corner of your safe. Why not get one out and present it to the lady?"

"You are mistaken, Randolph. I cannot so easily produce a mate to that ruby."

"Why not? Was there anything peculiar about it?"

"Yes, but we will not talk of it."

This curt way of dismissing the subject was a surprise to Mr. Randolph, for, however little Mr. Mitchel cared to show his gems, he had never before been unwilling to embrace any opportunity to talk about them. Mr. Randolph started in a new direction, remembering the hints of the detective.

"Mitchel," said he, "I would almost be willing to wager that you not only can give Miss Remsen as good a ruby, but that you could actually give her the same one."

"I hope to do so," was the quiet reply.

"You don't understand me. I mean that I half believe that your sickness in Philadelphia was all a farce; that you came over, and yourself stole the gem."

"Indeed? And what leads you to such a preposterous deduction?"

"I think that this is your way of endeavoring to win your wager. I think that no one but yourself could have taken the pin from Miss Remsen's hair, as for no one else would she have submitted."

"Randolph, your repeated allusions to Miss Remsen, in this connection, and especially your insinuation that I would ask her to be an accomplice in such a piece of duplicity, and that she would consent, are distasteful to me in the extreme. If you will pardon my saying so, it is a poor entertainment to offer a guest."

"Oh, I meant no offence, old man, I assure you. We will drop the subject of course."

This was followed by a silence. Mr. Randolph was at his wits' end to find a way to force Mr. Mitchel to talk. He felt that nothing had been accomplished. Mr. Barnes, however, thought differently, for he had at last come to a positive conclusion. From Mr. Mitchel's tone of voice and the words of his last speech, the detective felt certain that whatever part Mr. Mitchel himself may have played in the robbery Miss Remsen was innocent. He also wondered whether the conversation would now drift back to the ruby. Perhaps it would not have done so had not Mr. Thauret, who up to this point had scarcely spoken during the progress of the meal, once more broached the subject.

"I beg pardon, Mr. Mitchel," said he, "but your remark just now, that there is something special about the lost ruby, has greatly excited my curiosity. Unless you have some private reason for not doing so, I beg that you will tell us the history of the gem, if it has one."

There was a pause, during which Mr. Mitchel looked at his plate and seemed as though studying a problem. Mr. Randolph was delighted that Mr. Thauret had come to his assistance in this unexpected way, and as he observed Mr. Mitchel's hesitation it seemed to him that there was a contest going on in his mind, between a powerful desire to talk on his hobby, and some prudential whisper that silence would be better. The detective also waited with some anxiety, a piece of a sweetbread on his fork, carried but half-way to his mouth.

"Well, gentlemen," at last said Mr. Mitchel, "I will tell you the story." Mr. Barnes took the tidbit from his fork with a smile that showed his teeth as they bit it incisively. "First join me in a glass," continued Mr. Mitchel; "drink this ruby-colored wine and pledge me that you will not repeat what I say. This only because I do not wish to attain the unenviable reputation of being a romancer, as I certainly should if some reporter should hear and publish the story now, whilst the loss of the gem is fresh in the memory of all."

The pledge was given, and Mr. Mitchel continued.

"That you might better appreciate this stone, I might begin with a dissertation on rubies, explaining to you the difference between the true Oriental gem, which is rare of any magnitude, and the poorer specimens, known as spinels. However, you would only accuse me of ventilating knowledge which has come to me through the study of my hobby. I will come at once to the story of the lost jewel. Just where it was first found is not accurately known, and of its earlier history I can only tell you what has been told to me. You may believe as much or as little as you like. The history then begins with the finding of Moses in the bulrushes, and the subsequent gift to him of this ruby by the daughter of Pharaoh. Thus we hear of it first in the royal house of the Egyptians. There was another gem, the exact counterpart to it. This, Pharaoh had amongst his treasures, and wore upon state occasions. With the exodus of Moses and the Israelites the ruby passed out of Egypt. From that time, for many centuries, its history is not marked by any great event, save that we learn that it was kept by the high priests of the Synagogue and so passed down from generation to generation. One odd fact I must not forget. The deep red color as you know is the most prized. The color of this ruby at the present time is the most perfect in existence. Yet, so the story goes, at first the matched pair of gems were of a pale rose color."

"Do you mean us to believe," interrupted by Mr. Randolph, "that the color has deepened with time?"

"I do not ask you to believe anything. But it is not time that is supposed to have improved the color. With the conquest of Jerusalem this jewel fell into the hands of the Romans, and so in time came into the possession of Cæsar. In his courtship of Cleopatra he soon discovered that extraordinary woman's passion for resplendent jewels, and he was audacious enough to present it to her. Fearing that this might be readily traced to him, when the jewel was missed as it would surely be, he told her secretly of his purpose, and then tied it about the neck of a pigeon, which flew with it directly to the palace of Cleopatra, who awaited the arrival of the bird on the roof-tops. The pigeon, when nearly home, was attacked by a hawk and Cleopatra ordered one of her archers to slay the larger bird with his arrow. This the man attempted, but struck the pigeon, which fell bleeding and dead at the queen's feet. She at once removed the gem, which was covered with blood and dyed with it a rich red."

"But, Mr. Mitchel," said Mr. Thauret, "surely a ruby could not absorb blood?"

"It is the history of the gem." Mr. Mitchel spoke in so odd a tone that one almost thought that, carried away by his love of precious stones, he had imbibed some of the superstition connected with them. He spoke as though he believed the tale. Mr. Barnes began to understand better what Mr. Randolph had meant when he said that perhaps the desire to possess a rare stone might tempt this gentleman to commit a crime. Mr. Mitchel continued:

"I need not follow the story of Cleopatra. It is too well known. But there is an incident that has not been written in the general history of her career. There was an Egyptian priest who was madly in love with her, and in a moment of impulse he dared to tell her of his attachment one day when alone with her. She seemed slightly amused at his ardor, and asked what he, a poor priest, could offer her, who had rich rulers at her feet. In desperation he answered that he could give his life. The Queen laughed and said: 'That is mine already. But you priests claim to be all-wise. Find me the mate to my great ruby, and perhaps I will listen to your love pleadings.' To her intense surprise the man replied: 'That I could do, if I dared. The gem which you have has but returned to its proper place. It was once Pharaoh's. He also had the mate to it, which from him descended through kings to Rameses the Great. It is buried in his coffin.' 'Get it for me,' was the terse reply of Cleopatra, given now as a command rather than a request.