An Artist in Crime Part 13

"Ah! You still count me your friend. Then, my dear friend, for I a.s.sure you I value your good will, I will show you how to act so as to satisfy your conscience, and yet not injure me."

"I wish to heaven you would."

"Nothing easier. Go to Mr. Barnes and make a clean breast of all that you know."

"But that is betraying you to the police."

"No; Mr. Barnes is not the police--he is only a private detective. If you remember, he is the very one about whom we were talking when the wager was made. You were boasting of his skill. It should satisfy you then to have him on my track, and it will satisfy me, if you agree to talk with no other. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes, since you are willing. I must tell some one in authority. It is impossible for me to withhold what may be the means of detecting a criminal."

Mr. Randolph, upon leaving the hotel, went in search of Mr. Barnes.

Meanwhile that gentleman was holding a conversation with Wilson.

"You say," said the detective, "that Mr. Mitchel gave you the slip again yesterday afternoon?"

"Yes. He doubled so often on his tracks on the elevated road that at last he eluded me, getting on a train which I failed to board. You see it was impossible to tell, till the moment of starting, whether he would take a train or not. He would mix with the crowd and seem anxious to get on, and then at the last moment step back. I had to imitate him at the other end of the coach, and finally he got on just as the guard at my end slammed the gates."

"This was at Forty-second Street?"

"Yes. He took the down train."

"Did he notice you in any way?"

"I suppose so; but no one would have guessed it. He appeared entirely ignorant of the fact that he was followed, so far as watching me was concerned."

"You are not to blame. Go back to his hotel, and do the best you can.

Leave the rest to me. I will discover where it is he goes on these mysterious trips."

Left to himself Mr. Barnes's thoughts took this form:

"Wilson is no match for Mr. Mitchel, that is evident. I wonder whether there is any real object in this game of hide and seek; or whether it is simply an intimation to me that he cannot be shadowed? If the latter--well, we shall see. Now let me think about those jewels found in New Haven. They tally exactly with the description. Their discovery complicates the case once more. I had almost concluded that those in the safety vaults were the ones stolen, and that as they really belong to Mr. Mitchel, as proven by his receipts, he stole them to win his wager.

In this way he ran no risk, since, if the crime were brought home to him, he could not be imprisoned, though he would lose the bet. Now here is another set, evidently the right ones. Mr. Mitchel was plainly surprised at sight of the list which I found. I am sure he did not know of its existence. Therefore he may equally as well have known nothing about this duplicate set of jewels. In that case the occurrence of the train robbery on the very night of the wager, may be simply a coincidence. He says that the dead woman was a blackmailer, and that he gave her the address of his Paris jeweller. May he not have bought his set from that very man, and may not this woman have stolen the duplicate set recently, and brought them to this country? Plainly the Paris jeweller must be looked up. I have his name which I copied from the bill of sale. If this line of argument is true, some one has followed this woman from France, in order to rob her, after allowing her to accomplish the risky business of smuggling. Is that person our friend Thauret?

Along this line of argument we arrive at the conclusion that Mr. Mitchel has not yet committed his crime. He hinted that I should remember this if I should exculpate him from those already committed. But do I? Why did he show me that ruby and say that he meant to present it to his sweetheart? Will he give it to her, and then rob her of it? If so, will she be in the plot, and make a hue and cry, so that the papers may make a noise? That was a part of the agreement in making his bet. But after all, what about that b.u.t.ton? No explanation explains, which does not throw a light upon that."

Here Mr. Barnes was interrupted by the announcement that Mr. Randolph wished to speak with him. It must be remembered that Mr. Randolph was not aware of the fact that the conversation in the sleeping-car had been overheard. Brought face to face with Mr. Barnes he felt confused, and hesitated.

"Mr. Randolph, I believe," said the detective, glancing at the card which had been sent in. "Be seated. You have come to see me about this Mitchel case?" The rising inflection with which the last word was spoken seemed almost unnecessary to Mr. Randolph. For if the man could ask such a question, he might as well have made it a positive statement. This a.s.sumption of knowledge made him more than ever confident of the skill of detectives, and especially of the one before him.

"You know that?" said he. "Would you mind telling me how?"

"We detectives are supposed to know everything, are we not?" This was said with an affable smile, but the answer plainly indicated that Mr.

Barnes preferred not to be interrogated. Mr. Randolph therefore concluded to hurry through with his unpleasant business.

"Mr. Barnes, I have a confession to make, and----"

"I must interrupt you, to remind you that whatever you say is unsolicited, and that if you incriminate yourself, the evidence will be used against you."

"Thank you for your warning, but I have come here that I may not be incriminated. The facts in brief are simply these." Then he narrated as accurately as he could recall them, all the circ.u.mstances in connection with the wager. Mr. Barnes listened as though it was all a new story to him. He even jotted down a few notes on a bit of paper as though for reference. At the conclusion he said:

"This is a most astounding tale, Mr. Randolph. It is very difficult to believe that a man like Mr. Mitchel, who certainly seems to be a gentleman, would undertake to become a criminal simply to win a sum of money. Now you must have been thinking this over, and if so, you have some explanation to offer. Would you mind telling it to me?"

"I should be glad to do so," Mr. Randolph spoke eagerly. In his heart he was fond of his friend, and therefore his theory was one which in a measure would excuse him. He was delighted to have the chance of confiding his views to the detective. "You see," he continued, "it is one of the most difficult things in the world to say who is, and who is not perfectly sane. Some experts contend that nine tenths of the people in the world are affected by mania in some form or other. I hold that any man who makes a collection of any kind of things, using them for other than their legitimate uses, is in a measure insane."

"Do you mean legally insane? That is to say irresponsible?"

"As to responsibility, I cannot say. But I think such a mania might tempt a man to an illegal act. I must explain my idea further. Postage stamps undoubtedly have a very important value. One who collects them after they have been cancelled, paying many times their face value for them, is in my opinion somewhat crazy, since he pays a fict.i.tious price for what has no intrinsic value."

"You might say the same thing of paintings. The intrinsic value represented in canvas and oil is little, yet thousands of dollars are paid for pictures."

"That, too, is an insanity, one of course which cannot be indulged in by any save the rich. But it is not the same as with the old stamp craze.

Pictures remind us of nature, and appeal to the senses of all mankind, by recalling recollections brought into being by the scene presented.

There is therefore a legitimate use for paintings, and a reasonable price as compensation for the work and genius of the artist is perhaps permissible. But should a man pay a fortune for a single canvas and then hang it in a room in his own house where it will be seen by few save himself, that man I should consider demented. So with jewels----"

"Ah! What of them?"

"Jewels have a market value, and a place in the world. But when a man goes about buying up every magnificent specimen that can be found, and then locks his treasures up in a safe, he is simply a crazy man pure and simple."

"What has all this to do with the case in hand?"

"Everything. My friend is a crank on the subject of jewels. Sensible, and entertaining on any other topic, if you mention the name of any kind of jewel, he is off in a minute, giving a long history of this or that celebrated stone. His especial craze in this connection, is to relate the crimes that have surrounded every stone of any great price.

He has made my blood curdle at his ghastly tales of cruel murder, committed to gain possession of diamonds and rubies."

"Then your conclusion is, that by filling his mind with such thoughts he may have accustomed himself to the idea of crime in connection with jewels?"

"Exactly. The worst of it is, that we may become habituated to anything.

For instance, all ordinary men are abashed in the presence of the dead.

No matter how strong-minded a man may be, or how much he may scoff at the idea of ghosts and the like, he will prefer company if he must sit up with a corpse. More than that, the slightest sound in the room, as the moving of the ice in the ice box, will cause a s.h.i.+ver to pa.s.s through him. Yet physicians who study frequently in the dissecting-room, come to have that contempt of a dead body that a butcher has for the meat which he sells."

"Your argument is not bad, Mr. Randolph. It is not impossible that your friend might be generous and gentle, and yet with a mania for the possession of jewels, and with the knowledge of all the crimes that have been committed to gain them, the temptation to kill or steal would perhaps become over-powering, where his pa.s.sion sees an opportunity to be satisfied. It is an odd world."

"Do you think, that in a case of that kind, the man would be excusable on the plea of mania? Legally I mean?"

"Well no, I do not! Psychologically I admit that you may be correct, and I can sympathize with a man who became a criminal in such a way. But legally, he would be culpable. At least I think so. The question to be answered is, did your friend steal those jewels? You slept with him that night, what do you think?"

"I don't know what to think. He could not have left the berth without climbing over me, and though I sleep soundly, that ought to have awakened me. Then besides, if he did get out and take the things, where could he have hidden them, and how did they get to New Haven? By the way, I suppose you have the description of the man who left the satchel at the hotel? Does it tally with that of my friend?"

"I can't say. It is rather vague. The clerk says the man was of medium size, with red hair and beard, whilst the porter who saw him also, is equally positive that he had black hair and no beard. The last fits Mr.

Mitchel better than the first, but it is a description which would do as well for a thousand men found in a walk along Broadway."

"I almost think that after all the thief is some one else."

"Let us hope so, Mr. Randolph. I will say this much, if there is any comfort in it for you. At present there is not enough evidence against him to warrant his arrest."

The detective said this with a purpose. By relieving this man's mind, he hoped to make him more communicative. After a pause he asked:

"You have known Mr. Mitchel for a number of years, I believe?"