CHAPTER III.
MR. BARNES DISCOVERS AN ARTISTIC MURDER.
Whilst the meal was progressing, a man silently passed through the room.No one would have guessed that he had any special motive in doing so,for he noticed no one. Neither would one have supposed that Mr. Barnesobserved him, for he had his back turned. Yet this was the sameindividual who upon his instruction had followed Rose Mitchel when sheleft the train.
Breakfast over, the two men started to leave the restaurant. Reachingthe stairway which leads above to the main floor, Mr. Barnes courteouslystood aside to allow his companion to ascend first. Mr. Mitchel,however, with a wave of the hand, declined, and followed Mr. Barnes.Whether either had any special design in this was a thought occupyingthe minds of both as they silently passed up-stairs. Mr. Mitchel had aslight advantage, in that being behind he could watch the detective.There seemed, however, to be little to see. To be sure the man who hadpassed through the restaurant was idly leaning against the doorway, butas soon as Mr. Barnes's head appeared, and certainly before he couldhave been noticed by Mr. Mitchel, he stepped out into the street,crossed over, and disappeared into the bank building opposite. Had anysignal passed between these two detectives? Mr. Mitchel, despite hisshrewdness in sending Mr. Barnes up-stairs ahead of him, saw none, yetthis is what occurred: Mr. Barnes said adieu, and walked away. Mr.Mitchel stood in the doorway, gazing after him till he saw him enter theelevated railroad station; then, looking carefully about, he himselfwalked rapidly towards Sixth Avenue. He did not glance behind, or hemight have seen the man in the bank step out and walk in the samedirection. They had been gone about five minutes when Mr. Barnes oncemore appeared upon the scene. He stopped in the doorway, where the otherdetective had been leaning. Keenly scanning the panelling, his eyepresently rested upon what he was seeking. Faintly written in pencilwere the words "No. ---- East Thirtieth." That was all, but it told Mr.Barnes that Rose Mitchel had been followed to this address, and as ittallied with that which she herself had given to him, he knew now thatshe could be found when wanted. Wetting his finger against the tip ofhis tongue, he drew it across the words, leaving nothing but a dirtysmudge.
"Wilson is a keen one," thought the detective. "He did this trick well.Saw my nod, wrote that address, and got out of sight in an instant. Iwonder if he can keep an eye on that shrewd scoundrel? Pshaw! I amgiving the fellow too much credit. I must leave it to Wilson for to-dayanyway, as I must get through with this Pettingill matter." Half an hourlater he was at head-quarters talking with his assistants.
Meanwhile Wilson followed Mr. Mitchel to Broadway then down to theCasino, where he stopped to buy tickets; then out again, and downBroadway to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, which he entered. He nodded to theclerk, took his key, and passed up-stairs. Evidently he lived there.Wilson of course had no further definite instructions. From Mr. Barnes'sbackward nod, he had understood that he was to shadow this man, andunder the circumstances it was his simple duty to do this until relievedby further orders. In these days of telephones it is easy enough to makehurried reports to head-quarters and then continue the pursuit. TheFifth Avenue is not a promising place in which to watch a man, providedthe man knows that he is being watched. It has three exits--one onBroadway, and one each on Twenty-third and on Twenty-fourth Streets.Wilson flattered himself that Mr. Mitchel was unsuspicious, andtherefore whichever way he might leave the building, he would firstreturn his key at the desk. He consequently kept that point in view. Nothalf an hour had elapsed when his man appeared, gave up his key, asexpected, and passed out by the Broadway door. Crossing the Avenue, hewalked down Twenty-third Street, eastward; Wilson followed cautiously,going through the Park. At Third Avenue Mr. Mitchel climbed the elevatedstairway, and Wilson was compelled to do the same, though this broughthim unpleasantly close. Both men took the same train, Mr. Mitchel in thefirst coach, Wilson the last. At Forty-second Street Mr. Mitchel leftthe train, and crossed the bridge, but instead of taking the annex forthe Grand Central Depot, as one is expected to do, he slipped throughthe crowd to the main platform and took a train going back down-town.Wilson managed to get the same train, but he realized at once that hisman either knew that he was followed, or else was taking extraordinaryprecautions. At Thirty-fourth Street station the trick was repeated, Mr.Mitchel crossing over the bridge and then taking an up-town train. Whatpuzzled Wilson was that he could not detect that his man had noticedhim. It seemed barely possible, as they had encountered crowds at bothplaces, that he had escaped unobserved. He was more satisfied of thiswhen, at Forty-second Street again, Mr. Mitchel once more left thetrain, crossed the bridge, and this time went forward, taking the coachfor the Grand Central. Evidently all the manoeuvring had merely beenprompted by caution, and not having observed his shadow, the man wasabout to continue to his true destination. Mr. Mitchel had entered thecoach by the first gate, and was seated quietly in the corner as Wilsonpassed on, going in by the gate at the opposite end. A moment later theguard slammed the gate at Wilson's end, and pulled the bell-rope. Asquick as a flash Mr. Mitchel jumped up, and before he could beprevented, had left the coach just as it started, carrying away Wilson,completely outwitted and dumbfounded. As soon as the train stopped hedarted down-stairs, and ran back towards the Third Avenue station; buthe knew it was useless, as it proved. He saw nothing of Mr. Mitchel.
Wilson was greatly disheartened, for he was most anxious to stand wellwith Mr. Barnes, his chief. Yet in revolving over the occurrences of thelast half hour he could not see how he could have prevented the escapeof his man, since it was evident that he had intentionally acted in away to prevent pursuit. If one but knows or suspects that he is beingshadowed, the Third Avenue elevated road, with its bridges atThirty-fourth and Forty-second Streets, offers the most effectual meansof eluding the most skilful detective. If Wilson had known anythingwhatever about the man who had escaped him, he might have been able toguess his destination, and so have caught up with him again by hurryingahead and meeting him, as he had frequently done when following notedcriminals with whose haunts he was acquainted. In this instance he wasutterly in the dark, so could do nothing but swear.
If he could not report where Mr. Mitchel had gone, at least he mightdiscover at what time he returned to his hotel, and possibly Mr. Barnesmight receive some valuable hint by the lapse of time. With this idea,Wilson returned to the Fifth Avenue Hotel and waited patiently. Hetelephoned to head-quarters only to hear that Mr. Barnes had gone backto Boston to bring Pettingill to New York. Seven o'clock arrived, andyet his vigil was unrewarded. It suddenly occurred to him that as he hadseen Mr. Mitchel purchase tickets for the Casino, that might be a goodplace to watch, though of course there was no certainty that they werefor that night. Upon this meagre hope he hastened up-town and stationedhimself where he could keep an eye on all who entered. At ten minutespast eight he was about concluding that his task was useless when a cabstopped, and to his intense satisfaction he saw Mr. Mitchel alight, andthen hand out a handsomely-dressed woman. Wilson had prepared himselffor this possibility, by purchasing a ticket of admission, so that hefollowed the couple into the theatre, determined not to lose sight ofhis man again. The opera over, he found it easy to shadow the two, asthe woman declined the proffered cab, perchance because theexhilarating, though cold night air made a walk home inviting. He was,however, somewhat amazed at last to see them enter the veryapartment-house on Thirtieth Street to which he had traced Rose Mitchelin the morning. His mind was at once set at ease, for since both of hisbirds had flown to the same dove-cot, it seemed plain that they wereconnected. Evidently it was to this house that Mr. Mitchel had goneafter eluding him in the morning. At least so argued the astutedetective.
Wilson had waited opposite the building perhaps an hour, lulled intoabstraction of thought by the silence of the neighborhood, when he wasstartled by hearing a piercing shriek, loud and long continued, whichthen died away, and all was still again. Whether it came from theapartment-house or one of the private dwellings next to it, he was indoubt. That it was a w
oman's cry he felt sure. Was it a cry of pain, orthe shriek of nightmare? He could not tell. That solitary, awful cry,disturbing the death-like stillness, seemed uncanny. It made him shiverand draw his cloak closer about him. If it had only been repeated, afterhe was on the alert, he would have felt better satisfied; but though helistened intently he heard nothing. Ten minutes later, another thingoccurred, which attracted his attention. A light in a window on thefifth floor was extinguished. There was certainly nothing suspiciousabout this, for lights are usually put out when one retires. He noticedit because it was the only light which showed from any of the windowsduring his vigil. Whilst he was thinking of this, the door oppositeopened and a man emerged. Judging it to be Mr. Mitchel, he hastilyfollowed. That there might certainly be no mistake, Wilson walkedrapidly enough to reach the Avenue corner ahead of the man, when hecrossed, so timing himself that he passed in front of the other just asthey both reached the street lamp. Taking a quick, but thorough look,Wilson saw that it was not Mr. Mitchel, so abandoned the pursuit, goingback quickly towards the apartment-house. He had proceeded but a fewpaces, when he met Mr. Mitchel coming rapidly towards him. Breathing asigh of relief, he passed, then crossed the street, and with his usualskill readily kept Mr. Mitchel in sight till he entered the Fifth AvenueHotel. Wilson saw him take his key and go up-stairs, so that he feltthat his vigil was over for that night. Looking at his watch he notedthat it was just one o'clock. Going into the reading-room he wrote areport of the day's occurrences and then calling a messenger, sent itto head-quarters addressed to Mr. Barnes. This done he felt entitled tohurry home for a short sleep--short, because he knew it would be hisduty to be on the watch again the next day, and until he receivedfurther instructions from Mr. Barnes.
Mr. Barnes had immediately after his arrival obtained the requisitionpapers for which he had telegraphed, and which he found awaiting him.With these he had returned to Boston the same day, and obtaining hisprisoner succeeded in catching the midnight train once more, arriving inNew York with the loss of but a single day from the new case which soabsorbed all his interest.
Thus the morning after that on which the jewel robbery had beendiscovered he entered his offices quite early, having delivered hisprisoner at police head-quarters.
When he read Wilson's letter, the only sign which he gave ofdissatisfaction was a nervous pull at one corner of his moustache. Heread the paper through three times, then tore it carefully into tinypieces, doing it so accurately that they were all nearly of the samesize and shape. Any one who should attempt to piece together a notewhich Mr. Barnes had thus destroyed, would have a task. Standing by thewindow he tossed them high in the air and saw them scattered by thewind.
At half past eight o'clock he stood before the apartment-house in EastThirtieth Street. The janitor was sweeping from the pavement a lightsnow which had fallen in the early hours of the morning.
Mr. Barnes without speaking to the man walked into the vestibule andscanned the names over the letter-boxes. None of them contained the onewhich he sought, but there was no card in No. 5. Recalling that inWilson's report a light had disappeared from a window on the fifthfloor, he knew that it could not be unoccupied. To get in, he resortedto a trick often practised by sneak thieves. He rang the bell of No. 1,and when the door silently swung open he walked in, apologizing to theservant on the first landing for having "rung the wrong bell," andproceeded up to the fifth floor. Here he rang the bell of the privatehall belonging to that special apartment. He could have rung the lowerbell of this apartment at the outset, but he wished to make itimpossible for anyone to leave after his signal announced visitors. Hestood several minutes and heard no sound from within. A second pull atthe bell produced no better results. Taking a firm hold of thedoor-knob, he slowly turned it, making not the slightest noise. To hissurprise the door yielded when he pressed, and in a moment he had passedin and closed it behind him. His first idea was, that after all he hadentered an empty apartment, but a glance into the room at the fartherend of the hall, showed him that it was a furnished parlor. He hesitateda moment, then walked stealthily towards that room and looking in saw noone. He tip-toed back to the hall-door, turned the key, took it from thelock and dropped it into his pocket. Again he passed forward to theparlor, this time entering it. It was elegantly and tastily furnished.The windows opened on the street. Between them stood a cabinetwriting-desk, open, as though recently used. Beside it was an enamelpiano-lamp, possibly the same which had furnished the light which Wilsonhad suddenly missed several hours before. Opposite the windows a pair offolding glass doors communicated with an apartment beyond. These wereclosed. Peeping through a part of the pattern cut in the glass, Mr.Barnes could just distinguish the form of a woman in bed, her long hairhanging down from the pillow. This sight made him uncertain as to thenext move. This was possibly Mrs. Rose Mitchel, as she had announcedherself. She was asleep, and he had entered her apartment without anywarrant for doing so. True he looked upon her with some suspicion, butthe most innocent frequently suffer in this way, and without betterreason than he had, he knew that he could not account legally for whathe was doing. As he stood by the glass doors cogitating, he chanced tolook down. Instantly his eye was attracted by that which made himshiver, as accustomed as he was to strange sights. It was a tiny redstream, which had managed to pass under the door and had then run alongthe edge of the carpet for the space of a few inches. Instantly hestooped, dipped his finger into it, and then ejaculated under hisbreath:
"Blood, and clotted."
Standing upright, he once more peered into the room. The figure in bedhad not moved. Without further hesitation he slowly slid the doorsapart. One glance within, and murmuring the single word "Murder," Mr.Barnes was no longer slow in his actions. Stepping across a big pool ofblood which stained the carpet, he stood at the side of the bed. Herecognized the features of the woman who had claimed that she had beenrobbed of her diamonds. She seemed sleeping, save that there was anexpression of pain on the features, a contraction of the skin betweenthe eyebrows, and one corner of the mouth drawn aside, the whole kept inthis position by the rigidity of death. The manner of her death was assimple as it was cruel. Her throat had been cut as she slept. Thisseemed indicated by the fact that she was clad in her night-dress. Onething that puzzled Mr. Barnes at once, was the pool of blood near thedoor. It was fully six feet from the head of the bed, and whilst therewas another just by the bedstead, formed by blood which had trickledfrom the wound, running down the sheets and so dropping to the floor,the two pools did not communicate.
"Well," thought Mr. Barnes, "I am first on the scene this time, and nobusybodies shall tumble things about till I have studied theirsignificance."
This room had not been designed for a sleeping apartment but rather as adining-room, which, upon occasion, could be opened into the parlor,converting the two into one. There was one window upon an air-shaft, andin an angle was a handsome carved oak mantel with fireplace below. Mr.Barnes raised the curtain over the window, letting in more light.Looking around he noticed almost immediately two things: first, that abasin stood on a washstand half filled with water, the color of whichplainly indicated that the murderer had washed off tell-tale marksbefore taking his departure. Second, that in the fireplace was a pile ofashes.
"The scoundrel has burned evidence against him, and deliberately washedthe blood from his person before going away. Let me see, what was itthat Mitchel said: 'I should have stopped to wash the stain from thecarpet whilst fresh, and also from the dog's mouth.' That is what hetold his friend he would do if bitten whilst committing a crime. In thisinstance the 'stain on the carpet' was too much for him, but he washedit from himself. Can it be that a man lives who, contemplating a deed ofthis character, would make a wager that he would not be detected. Bah.It is impossible." Thus thought Mr. Barnes as he studied the evidencebefore him. He next turned to the woman's clothing which lay on a chair.He rummaged through the pocket, but found nothing. In handling thepetticoat he noticed that a piece had been cut from the ban
d. Examiningthe other garments he soon saw that the same had been done to them all.Like a flash an idea struck him. Going over to the bed he searched forsome mark on the garments which were on the corpse. He could find noneuntil he lifted the body up and turned it over, when he found that apiece had been cut from the night-dress.
"That accounts for the blood by the door," thought Mr. Barnes. "He tookher out of the bed to get her nearer to the light, so that he couldfind the initials marked on the clothing. Whilst she lay by the door theblood flowed and accumulated. Then he put her back in bed so that hewould not need to step over her in walking about the room. What acalculating villain. There is one significant fact here. Her name cannothave been Rose Mitchel, or there would have been no reason fordestroying these marks, since she had given that name to several."
Mr. Barnes next brushed the charred ashes from the grate upon anewspaper, and carried them to the window in the front room. Hisexamination satisfied him of two things; the murderer had burned thebits of cloth cut from the various garments, and also a number ofletters. That the fellow was studiously careful was plain from the factthat the burning had been thoroughly done; nothing had escaped the flamesave two buttons with a bit of cloth attached, and various corners ofenvelopes. With disgust Mr. Barnes threw the ashes back where he hadfound them.
Next he paid his attention to the cabinet desk which stood open. Hepulled out all the drawers, and peered into every nook and cranny, buthis search was fruitless. He found nothing but blank paper andenvelopes, and these of common kind.
Once more returning to the room where the corpse lay, he noticed a trunkfrom which protruded a part of a garment. Raising the lid he foundeverything within in a promiscuous pile. Evidently it had been hastilysearched and carelessly repacked. Mr. Barnes took each article out andexamined it closely. Everything upon which a name might have beenwritten showed a place where a piece had been cut out. "There must besome good reason for hiding this woman's identity, or the scoundrelwould not have been so thorough in his work," thought Mr. Barnes. Justthen in replacing the clothing he heard a crinkling sound whichindicated that a bit of paper was in the pocket of the garment. Hastilyhe withdrew it, and was delighted to observe writing. "A clue at last,"he murmured, hurrying to the front-room window to read it. For what hefound see p. 44.
This was all, no name being signed. Mr. Barnes regretted this last fact,but felt that he held a most important paper in his hand, since itseemed to be corroborative of the woman's statement that she had lost alot of unset jewels. It was of great value to have so minute adescription of the stolen gems. Folding the paper carefully, he placedit in his wallet, and then returned to the vicinity of the corpse.Looking closely at the cut in the neck, the detective determined thatthe assassin had used an ordinary pocket-knife, for the wound wasneither deep nor long. It severed the jugular vein, which seemed to havebeen the aim of the murderer. It was from this circumstance that thedetective decided that the woman had been attacked as she slept. Thisaroused the question "Did the murderer have the means of entering thehouse without attracting attention? Either he must have had a night-key,or else some one must have admitted him." Mr. Barnes started as thethought recurred to him that Wilson had seen Mr. Mitchel enter thehouse some time before the scream was heard, and depart some time after.Was this the woman who had accompanied him to the theatre? If so, howcould she have retired and fallen to sleep so quickly? Evidently furtherlight must be thrown upon this aspect of the case.
List of Jewels.
One Diamond--15-1/4 carats-- $15,000 One Emerald--15-1/8 carats-- 15,000 One Ruby--15-3/8 carats-- 20,000 One Sapphire--10 carats-- 5,000 One Pearl--Pear shaped--white-- 15000 One Pearl--Pear shaped--Black--10,000 One Pearl--white--egg shaped-- 5,000 One Pearl--Black--egg shaped-- 5,000 One Canary Diamond---- 5,000 One Topaz--200 carats---- 5,000 -------- $100,000
The ten jewels are all perfect specimens of their kind. The first fourare cut exactly alike; the pear shaped pearls are similar in size andshape, as are also the egg pearls. The Canary diamond is oblong, and theTopaz unexcelled.
The lot are contained in a red Russia leather case, four by six inchesin size lined with black satin. Each jewel fits in a special depressionand is held in place by a gold wire clasp.
The case has the name "MITCHEL" in gold letters across the band whichstraps around it.]
Whilst meditating, the detective's eye roamed about the room, andfinally rested upon a shining object which lay on the floor near thetrunk. A ray of light from the front window just reached it and made itglitter. Mr. Barnes looked at it for some moments mechanically, stoopingpresently to pick it up, with little thought of what he did. He hadscarcely examined it, however, before a gleam of triumph glistened inhis eye. He held in his hand a button, which was a cut cameo upon whichwas carved the profile head of a woman, beneath which appeared the name"Juliet."
An Artist in Crime Page 3
