An Artist in Crime Part 7

"Is that all?" laughed Emily, "Who is the monster? Where did you meet him?"

"I have met him several times, at afternoon teas. The last time he asked me if he might call--and I told him he could do so this afternoon, when I thought you would be at home. Was it very wrong?"

"Well, Dora, I don't think it was exactly proper, but perhaps it may be all right, since you have met him at several of our friends' houses. But what is his name?"

"Alphonse Thauret."

"A Frenchman?"

"Yes, though he speaks English with only a very slight accent."

"I don't like Frenchmen. I know it is preposterous prejudice but I never meet one without thinking him a possible adventurer. With their soft sycophantic ways, they remind me of cats, and I expect them to show their claws at any moment. However, pet, perhaps your Frenchman will not call, and then----"

"Oh! but he will. He said he would come this afternoon. That is why I have been so nervous. I was afraid you might be going out, and----"

"No, I will be here to protect you. Besides I expect Bob at any moment.

He said he would come about noon, and it is after that already. Perhaps that is he now; yes, three rings.

"Oh, so Romeo and Juliet have signals! But jump up, Queen, he must not catch us lying down, and 'spooning.'"

A moment later Mr. Mitchel entered to find both girls seated in the most dignified manner, reading novels. Walking over to Emily he stooped, and kissed her lightly on the forehead, whispering "My Queen." Next he patted Dora on the head, as one would pat a child.

"Emily I have taken the liberty of telling a friend of mine that he might call here. You do not mind?"

"Why, of course not, Roy." She had made this name for him by eliminating the first syllable of his second name, Leroy. She told him, that thus she could call him King, without heralding it to the world. Almost immediately the bell sounded again, and Mr. Barnes was introduced. Mr.

Mitchel presented him to the two ladies, and then devoted himself to Dora, thus leaving the detective perfectly free to converse with Emily.

Being well educated, and having travelled through England early in life, Mr. Barnes soon made himself at ease, and talked like any society man.

Presently Mr. Mitchel took Dora to the window and stood there looking out and chatting, apparently absorbed and un.o.bservant of the others. Mr.

Barnes decided that this was his opportunity.

"Pardon me, Miss Remsen, and let the interest of a collector excuse the impertinence of my noticing that beautiful pin which you wear. Cameos I think are too little appreciated nowadays. They are pa.s.sed by, whilst statuettes bring fancy prices. Yet does it not require exquisite skill to carve so small an object?"

"I agree with you, Mr. Barnes, and am not at all angry with you for admiring my pin. You may look at it if you wish." Saying which she took it off and handed it to him. It was the fac-simile of those which Mr.

Mitchel wore as b.u.t.tons, save that it bore the image of Shakespeare. The cameo was mounted in a gold frame, and, surrounded by diamonds, made a beautiful ornament. "You would never guess, Mr. Barnes that that was once an ordinary b.u.t.ton?"

Mr. Barnes a.s.sumed an expression of surprise as though the idea was entirely new to him. All he said was:

"It may have been a b.u.t.ton, but surely never an ordinary one."

"Well no, not an ordinary one of course. I suppose you know that I am engaged to your friend?"

Mr. Barnes a.s.sented with a bow, and Emily continued:

"Shortly after we became engaged, I went to Europe, and whilst there I came across a jeweller who produced the most beautiful carvings in cameo and intaglio. I ordered a set made to be used for b.u.t.tons."

"All similar to this?"

"Similar but not identical. This one has Shakespeare's head. The others represent Romeo and Juliet."

Mr. Barnes determined upon a bold stroke. Taking the b.u.t.ton from his pocket, and handing it to Emily, he said quietly:

"Here is a cameo of Juliet. Perhaps it may interest you?"

"Why this is extraordinary! It is one of my set!"

"One of yours, why have you lost one? How many did you have?"

"There were seven including this one of Shakespeare. The other six----"

Here she stopped and colored deeply.

"Miss Remsen, you think that is one of the original set. If so of course it is yours, and I should be too glad to restore it to you. But have you lost one?"

"Lost one? No----that is, I don't know." She seemed much confused, and looked intently at the b.u.t.ton. Suddenly her whole expression changed, and with her self possession fully restored she startled Mr. Barnes by saying, "I am mistaken. This is not one of the original set. Yet it is very similar."

Mr. Barnes did not know what to think. Did she divine that there might be some danger in admitting that there was a seventh b.u.t.ton still? Had that matchless schemer Mitchel sent her a note warning her to say that there were but seven in the original set? He could not decide at once, but hazarded one more stroke.

"Miss Remsen, I have seen your portrait, and it struck me that that b.u.t.ton is a copy of it. What do you think?"

The girl once more became confused and stammered.

"I don't know," then suddenly, and with complete composure again, "Yes, I think you are right. This is a copy from my picture. The portrait was made last summer, and afterwards I allowed the artist to exhibit it. I think photographs were made from it, and possibly some cameo cutter has used it for his work."

This was ingenious, but not satisfactory to Mr. Barnes, for he knew that it was far from probable that another gem-cutter should have used the picture, and then have called it Juliet. Beside it would have been too great a coincidence to make a b.u.t.ton of it. He decided therefore that the girl was doing the best she could to invent a plausible explanation to a question, which Mr. Mitchel himself had simply refused to answer.

Not wis.h.i.+ng to arouse any suspicion in her mind that he doubted her word, he replied quickly:

"That is very likely, and surely he could not have chosen a better face for his subject."

"Mr. Barnes," said Emily, "you offered just now to give me this, thinking that I had lost it. Of course I should not accept a present from one whom I have had the pleasure of knowing for so short a time, but you are Mr. Mitchel's friend, and as I would really prefer not to have my portrait in the hands of strangers, I accept your gift with thanks."

This was entirely unexpected. When Mr. Barnes had made the remark that he would be glad to restore her her own, he had done so feeling safe, because to obtain it she would need to admit that she had lost it. Now it seemed that she had deprived him of his piece of evidence. He did not know what to say, when Mr. Mitchel walked across to them and remarked pleasantly:

"Well, Emily, do you find my friend Mr. Barnes entertaining?"

"Mr. Barnes has been most agreeable, Roy, and see, he has actually given me a present," saying which she handed the b.u.t.ton to Mr. Mitchel across whose countenance Mr. Barnes thought he saw a fleeting smile of triumph pa.s.s.

"I am proud of you, Emily. You command homage wherever you extend your influence. Do you know, Mr. Barnes refused to give this cameo to me, only this morning. You can guess why I wanted it."

"Because it has my picture copied on it?"

"Exactly. Mr. Barnes, allow me to add my thanks to those of Miss Remsen.

You can readily appreciate why we prefer to have this bauble in our own possession?"

Mr. Barnes thought that he could. He saw that he was fairly caught and that he could do nothing without making a scene. He met a glance from Mr. Mitchel which he knew was meant to remind him of his promise not to annoy Miss Remsen. He had about decided that he had been a fool to make such a promise and to have visited the place at all, when he suddenly changed his mind, as a servant announced:

"Mr. Alphonse Thauret."

Immediately the detective remembered the name. It was upon the card given to him by the Frenchman who had left the train at Stamford. He was watching Mr. Mitchel when the newcomer was thus unexpectedly announced, and he thought he detected a glance of displeasure. Were these two men acquainted, accomplices perhaps?

"Mr. Mitchel, let me present Mr. Thauret," said Dora.