CHAPTER VII.
MR. RANDOLPH HAS A FIGHT WITH HIS CONSCIENCE.
Upon leaving the vaults Mr. Mitchel and the detective parted company,the former going down to Tiffany's where he left the ruby withinstructions as to how he wished it set. On the following morningWilson's report to Mr. Barnes stated that Mr. Mitchel had spent theafternoon at the Union League Club, and had accompanied his _fiancee_ toa private ball in the evening.
On the morning of the 5th, as Mr. Mitchel was dressing, a card wasbrought to him which bore the name of his friend, Mr. Randolph, and thatgentleman a few minutes later entered. Mr. Mitchel was cordial in hisgreeting and extended his hand, but Mr. Randolph refused it saying:
"Excuse me, Mitchel, but I have come to see you about that wager I wasstupid enough to make with you."
"Well, what of it!"
"I did not suppose that you would go so far."
"So far as what?"
"Why haven't you read the papers?"
"No! I never do! I am above that class of literature."
"Then with your permission I will read one to you."
"Go ahead, I am all attention." Mr. Mitchel seated himself in his mostcomfortable armchair, and Mr. Randolph without removing his overcoat,sat in another. Taking a morning paper from his pocket he read thefollowing:
"The inquest upon the body of the mysterious woman found murdered in theThirtieth Street apartment-house was resumed yesterday at the coroner'soffice. Mr. Barnes, the well-known detective, testified that he had beenupon the Boston Express at the time of the robbery of the jewels. Thathe had an interview with the woman at which she gave the name RoseMitchel, and made an appointment with him at her residence. He called atthe time agreed upon, nine o'clock on the morning of the 3d, anddiscovered her lying in bed with her throat cut. One singular factbrought out by the detective's testimony is that the woman's name hadbeen deliberately cut from every garment. This may indicate that RoseMitchel is an assumed name.
"The doctors who performed the autopsy, declare it as their opinion thatthe woman was attacked whilst she slept. Otherwise there would have beenmore blood stains found, as the jugular vein and carotid artery wereboth cut. They think that the assassin used an ordinary pocket knife,because the wound though deep, is not very large.
"A curious story was obtained from the janitor. The woman Mitchel hadbeen in the house about three weeks. She was not a tenant, but occupiedthe apartments of Mr. and Mrs. Comstock, who are absent in Europe. Thewoman gave him a letter purporting to be written by Mrs. Comstock,instructing the janitor to allow the bearer to occupy the apartmentuntil suited elsewhere, and also asking that the janitor's wife wouldsee that she had proper attendance. The janitor did not doubt theauthenticity of the letter, but it now appears from the testimony of arelative of the Comstocks, who is well acquainted with Mrs. Comstock'swriting, that this letter is a forgery.
"After a little further evidence of no special importance the inquestwas adjourned until to-day. It is plain that the detectives are all atsea in this case. A startling piece of evidence has now been obtained bya reporter which may serve as a clue. It is no less than the discoveryof the lost jewels. It will be remembered that Mr. Barnes was on thetrain, and ordered that the passengers should be searched. Nothing wasfound, from which it seemed safe to presume that there were two personsconnected with the theft. One of these secured the plunder and handed itthrough a window of the car to his accomplice outside. A reporter wentover the route yesterday, beginning his investigation in New Haven. Hewent the rounds of the hotels, endeavoring to discover if any suspiciousperson had been noticed in the city. At one of the last which hevisited, which is about five minutes walk from the railroad depot, theclerk remembered a man who did act strangely. It seems that this mancame into the hotel at about noon on the third, registered, asked thathis satchel should be placed in the safe, went out and had not returnedsince. The reporter at once guessed that this was the missing satchel,and so stating, the chief of police was sent for, and in his presence itwas opened. In it was found a red Russia leather case containing unsetjewels of such size and lustre that one can well believe that they areworth a hundred thousand dollars as claimed. That these are the missinggems is plainly indicated by the fact that the jewel-case has the nameof MITCHEL stamped upon it. Unfortunately there was nothing about thesatchel, or in it, which gives any clue to the thief himself. The clerk,however, remembers him distinctly, and from his description thedetectives hope soon to have him under lock and key."
"What have you to say to that, Mitchel?"
"Why, it is just that kind of thing that made me give up reading thenewspapers. A sensational description of a mysterious robbery andmurder. Yet if one reads the papers he must submit to that almost everyday."
"Do you mean that this particular case has no interest to you?"
"Why should it interest me? Because I happened to be on the train andwas compelled to submit to being searched by an order from a blunderingdetective?"
"There is more reason than that for attracting your attention. Any manwith a grain of sense, and with the knowledge of your wager, must seeyour hand in this?"
"In which, the robbery, or the murder?"
"My God, I don't know. You and I have been the best of friends eversince we first met. I have stood by you and believed in you in spite ofall that your enemies have said against you. But now----"
"Well?"
"Well, I don't know what to think. You bet me that you would commit acrime. In a few hours there is a robbery, and a little later a woman iskilled in the very house where the Remsens lived. It is known,--there isanother account in another paper here--it is known that you were in thathouse for an hour, after 11:30 at night, and that whilst you were therea woman was heard to scream from that apartment where the corpse wasfound. Then here they find the jewels, and the case had your name onit."
"The woman's name you mean. The paper made that deduction I think."
"That is true. I did not think of that. Of course it was her name, butdon't you see I am all muddled up and excited. I came here to ask you tosay outright that you have had nothing to do with this thing."
"That is impossible."
"What, you refuse? You will not claim that you are innocent? Then youpractically admit that you are guilty!"
"I do not. I neither deny nor admit anything. Do you remember our wager?I told you then that this crisis would arise. That you would hear ofsome crime and come to ask me about it. I warned you that I would refuseto enlighten you. I simply keep my word."
This was followed by a silence. Mr. Randolph seemed much disturbed.Jamming his hands into his pockets he went and looked out of thewindow. Mr. Mitchel looked at him for some minutes with a smile ofamusement hovering about his lips. Suddenly he said:
"Randolph, does your conscience trouble you?"
"Most decidedly!" answered his companion sharply, turning towards him.
"Why not go and unburden your soul to the police?"
"I think it is my duty to do so. But I feel like a coward at the idea.It seems like betraying a friend."
"Ah! You still count me your friend. Then, my dear friend, for I assureyou I value your good will, I will show you how to act so as to satisfyyour 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 thatyou know."
"But that is betraying you to the police."
"No; Mr. Barnes is not the police--he is only a private detective. Ifyou remember, he is the very one about whom we were talking when thewager was made. You were boasting of his skill. It should satisfy youthen to have him on my track, and it will satisfy me, if you agree totalk with no other. Is it a bargain?"
"Yes, since you are willing. I must tell some one in authority. It isimpossible for me to withhold what may be the means of detecting acriminal."
Mr. Randolph, upon leaving the hotel, went in search of Mr. Barnes.Meanwhile that gentleman was holding a con
versation with Wilson.
"You say," said the detective, "that Mr. Mitchel gave you the slipagain yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes. He doubled so often on his tracks on the elevated road that atlast he eluded me, getting on a train which I failed to board. You seeit was impossible to tell, till the moment of starting, whether he wouldtake a train or not. He would mix with the crowd and seem anxious to geton, and then at the last moment step back. I had to imitate him at theother end of the coach, and finally he got on just as the guard at myend 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 entirelyignorant of the fact that he was followed, so far as watching me wasconcerned."
"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 thesemysterious trips."
Left to himself Mr. Barnes's thoughts took this form:
"Wilson is no match for Mr. Mitchel, that is evident. I wonder whetherthere is any real object in this game of hide and seek; or whether it issimply an intimation to me that he cannot be shadowed? If thelatter--well, we shall see. Now let me think about those jewels found inNew Haven. They tally exactly with the description. Their discoverycomplicates the case once more. I had almost concluded that those in thesafety vaults were the ones stolen, and that as they really belong toMr. 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 tohim, he could not be imprisoned, though he would lose the bet. Now hereis another set, evidently the right ones. Mr. Mitchel was plainlysurprised at sight of the list which I found. I am sure he did not knowof its existence. Therefore he may equally as well have known nothingabout this duplicate set of jewels. In that case the occurrence of thetrain robbery on the very night of the wager, may be simply acoincidence. He says that the dead woman was a blackmailer, and that hegave her the address of his Paris jeweller. May he not have bought hisset from that very man, and may not this woman have stolen the duplicateset recently, and brought them to this country? Plainly the Parisjeweller must be looked up. I have his name which I copied from the billof sale. If this line of argument is true, some one has followed thiswoman from France, in order to rob her, after allowing her to accomplishthe risky business of smuggling. Is that person our friend Thauret?Along this line of argument we arrive at the conclusion that Mr. Mitchelhas not yet committed his crime. He hinted that I should remember thisif I should exculpate him from those already committed. But do I? Whydid he show me that ruby and say that he meant to present it to hissweetheart? Will he give it to her, and then rob her of it? If so, willshe be in the plot, and make a hue and cry, so that the papers may makea noise? That was a part of the agreement in making his bet. But afterall, what about that button? No explanation explains, which does notthrow a light upon that."
Here Mr. Barnes was interrupted by the announcement that Mr. Randolphwished to speak with him. It must be remembered that Mr. Randolph wasnot aware of the fact that the conversation in the sleeping-car had beenoverheard. Brought face to face with Mr. Barnes he felt confused, andhesitated.
"Mr. Randolph, I believe," said the detective, glancing at the cardwhich had been sent in. "Be seated. You have come to see me about thisMitchel case?" The rising inflection with which the last word was spokenseemed almost unnecessary to Mr. Randolph. For if the man could ask sucha question, he might as well have made it a positive statement. Thisassumption of knowledge made him more than ever confident of the skillof 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 wassaid with an affable smile, but the answer plainly indicated that Mr.Barnes preferred not to be interrogated. Mr. Randolph thereforeconcluded 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 isunsolicited, and that if you incriminate yourself, the evidence will beused against you."
"Thank you for your warning, but I have come here that I may not beincriminated. The facts in brief are simply these." Then he narrated asaccurately as he could recall them, all the circumstances in connectionwith the wager. Mr. Barnes listened as though it was all a new story tohim. He even jotted down a few notes on a bit of paper as though forreference. At the conclusion he said:
"This is a most astounding tale, Mr. Randolph. It is very difficult tobelieve that a man like Mr. Mitchel, who certainly seems to be agentleman, would undertake to become a criminal simply to win a sum ofmoney. Now you must have been thinking this over, and if so, you havesome explanation to offer. Would you mind telling it to me?"
"I should be glad to do so," Mr. Randolph spoke eagerly. In his heart hewas fond of his friend, and therefore his theory was one which in ameasure would excuse him. He was delighted to have the chance ofconfiding his views to the detective. "You see," he continued, "it isone of the most difficult things in the world to say who is, and who isnot perfectly sane. Some experts contend that nine tenths of the peoplein the world are affected by mania in some form or other. I hold thatany man who makes a collection of any kind of things, using them forother 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 mighttempt a man to an illegal act. I must explain my idea further. Postagestamps undoubtedly have a very important value. One who collects themafter they have been cancelled, paying many times their face value forthem, is in my opinion somewhat crazy, since he pays a fictitious pricefor what has no intrinsic value."
"You might say the same thing of paintings. The intrinsic valuerepresented in canvas and oil is little, yet thousands of dollars arepaid for pictures."
"That, too, is an insanity, one of course which cannot be indulged in byany 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 reasonableprice as compensation for the work and genius of the artist is perhapspermissible. But should a man pay a fortune for a single canvas and thenhang it in a room in his own house where it will be seen by few savehimself, 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 mangoes about buying up every magnificent specimen that can be found, andthen locks his treasures up in a safe, he is simply a crazy man pure andsimple."
"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 anykind of jewel, he is off in a minute, giving a long history of this orthat celebrated stone. His especial craze in this connection, is torelate 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 hemay have accustomed himself to the idea of crime in connection withjewels?"
"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 atthe idea of ghosts and the like, he will prefer company if he must situp with a corpse. More than that, the slightest sound in the room, asthe moving of the ice in the ice box, will cause a shiver to passthrough him. Yet physicians who study frequently in the dissecting-room,come to have that contempt of a dead body that a butcher has for
themeat which he sells."
"Your argument is not bad, Mr. Randolph. It is not impossible that yourfriend might be generous and gentle, and yet with a mania for thepossession of jewels, and with the knowledge of all the crimes that havebeen committed to gain them, the temptation to kill or steal wouldperhaps become over-powering, where his passion sees an opportunity tobe satisfied. It is an odd world."
"Do you think, that in a case of that kind, the man would be excusableon the plea of mania? Legally I mean?"
"Well no, I do not! Psychologically I admit that you may be correct, andI can sympathize with a man who became a criminal in such a way. Butlegally, he would be culpable. At least I think so. The question to beanswered is, did your friend steal those jewels? You slept with him thatnight, what do you think?"
"I don't know what to think. He could not have left the berth withoutclimbing over me, and though I sleep soundly, that ought to haveawakened me. Then besides, if he did get out and take the things, wherecould he have hidden them, and how did they get to New Haven? By theway, I suppose you have the description of the man who left the satchelat 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 mediumsize, with red hair and beard, whilst the porter who saw him also, isequally 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 aswell 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 anycomfort in it for you. At present there is not enough evidence againsthim 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?"
"No, not more than a year and a half. He has not been in New York twoyears."
"Oh! I see. A Boston man?"
"No, I think he came from New Orleans."
A curious sensation passed over Mr. Barnes. There is a superstitiousbelief, much esteemed by many, that a shudder or chill of this charactermeans that some one is walking over the spot where the person affectedis to be buried. Therefore an uncanny thought accompanies it. With Mr.Barnes it is different. He is free from all such notions, yet insensiblyhe is moved when this occurs to him, because it has so often happenedthat at the time he just hit upon a clew. Therefore he stopped toconsider. All that Mr. Randolph had said was that Mr. Mitchel, hethought, had come from New Orleans. In a moment it flashed across Mr.Barnes's mind that the dead woman had told him that she had lived in NewOrleans. Was there any significance in this fact? Did the man and thewoman know each other in the southern city?
"How do you know that he is a Southerner?" asked Mr. Barnes.
"Oh! That was easily discovered by his accent," replied Mr. Randolph."Besides he claims to be from the South, though I think he is ratherinclined not to speak of his home. I have an indistinct recollection ofhis telling me once that he was born in New Orleans and that he had somepainful recollection of the place. That is the only time that he everalluded to it, however."
"I would like to ask you a question about another man, Mr. Randolph. Iwonder whether you have met him. His name is Thauret?"
"Alphonse Thauret? Yes I know him, and I do not like him."
"Why not?"
"I don't exactly know. Perhaps it is only a prejudice. Still we are aptto form quick estimates of men, and I have distrusted this man from thefirst instant that I met him."
"Distrusted him?"
"Yes. I may be entirely wrong, and perhaps I should not tell you thestory, but I will do so. It was at one of my clubs about two weeks ago.Some gentlemen were playing whist, and this Thauret was of the number.Others were looking on. The stakes were small, still there was money up.Thauret and his partner seemed to have a great deal of luck. Ordinarilyof course, two packs are used, but for some reason there was but onethat night, so that the bottom card would be the trump. Now it is prettywell known, that as the cards run in whist, each trick containing fourof a suit mainly, it is a mathematical certainty that if the pack isshuffled twice only, and the dealer is skilful enough to handle the packso that the two halves split each other exactly both times, the resultwill be that the majority of trumps will go to himself and partner.Cutting does not alter this fact at all. Now what I observed was, thatThauret dealt in that way every time. He and his partner won about twohundred dollars during the evening. I think he cheated."
"Who was his partner?"
"I do not know."
"Was Mr. Mitchel present that night?"
"Yes, and agreed with me that the man is a card sharp. Yet of course wemay be doing him an injustice. After all, we only know that he shuffledhis cards twice, and played in good luck. I have since seen him lose atthe same game."
"Well, I am much indebted to you, Mr. Randolph, for the informationwhich you have given me. I will say that if I can prove that your friendhad no hand in this affair I shall be most happy."
The detective arose and Mr. Randolph accepted the action as a hint thathe was dismissed. After his departure Mr. Barnes sat down again. In hismind he wondered whether this partner in the card game might have beenthe accomplice of Thauret in the jewel robbery, and whether he was theman who left the jewels in the hotel at New Haven. Why he should havedone so however, was a mystery.
A few minutes later Mr. Barnes left the building, and walked rapidlytowards Third Avenue, where he took the elevated road, getting out atSeventy-sixth Street. Going eastward a few houses he rang the bell ofone, and was shown into a modestly-furnished parlor. A few minutes latera comely young woman of about twenty-four or five entered. The twotalked together in low tones for some time, and then the girl left theroom returning in street attire. Together they left the house.
Four days later, Mr. Barnes received a note which simply said, "Comeup." He seemed to understand it, however, and was quickly on his way tothe house on Seventy-sixth Street. Once more the girl joined him in theparlor.
"Well," said Mr. Barnes, "have you succeeded?"
"Why, of course," replied the girl. "You never knew me to make afailure, did you? You don't class me with Wilson, I hope?"
"Never mind about Wilson; tell me your story."
"Very good. Don't be impatient. You know me, I take my own way of doingthings. Well, you left me in Madison Square Park. I sat on a bench andwatched Wilson. Two hours later a man came out of the hotel and Wilsonfollowed him. It made me laugh to see the gawk skulking along in therear. He's no artist. Why, any booby could tell in a minute that he wason the trail."
"I told you to omit remarks about Wilson."
"I know, but I choose to tell you about him, because I make youappreciate me more. So there he was chasing after your man Mitchel. Yousee I have found out his name. You didn't tell me, but that could nottrouble me long, you know. It was real fun. One minute Wilson would beactually running to keep up, and all of a sudden Mitchel would stop soshort, that Wilson would almost bump into him. Of course he knows Wilsonby this time, and just has fun with him. I wanted to get one good squarelook at him myself. I jumped on a car and reached Third Avenue ahead ofthem. I ran upstairs to the platform of the elevated station, and hid inthe waiting-room. Soon up came Mitchel, and away he goes to the end ofthe platform. Wilson stopped in the middle and tried to look natural,which of course he didn't. When the train came along, I got aboard andwalked through till I found my man and down I sat right opposite to him.I just studied his face, you bet."
"Yes, Miss, and he studied yours. You are a goose, and you disobeyedorders. I told you not to let that keen devil see you at all."
"That's all right. It came out straight enough. At Forty-second Streethe got out, and so did Wilson, and so didn't I."
"Why not?"
"Because then he might have suspected me. No, sir; I rode on up to
Forty-seventh Street, crossed over, took a train down, and was waitingin the station when Mitchel came along the second time. This time he wasalone, evidently having eluded Wilson at Thirty-fourth Street. He tookthe down train. So did I, this time keeping out of sight. He wentstraight to his lay, and I after him. It is a house in Irving Place.Here is the number." She handed a card to Mr. Barnes.
"You have done well," said he, taking it, "but why did you not reportto me at once?"
"I am not through yet. When I take up a case I go to the end of it. Doyou suppose I would track that man, and then let you turn Wilson on himagain? Not much. Next day I called at the house and rang the bell. Aservant girl opened the door. I asked to see the mistress. She askedwhat I wanted, and I told her that I had been sent for to take asituation. She looked surprised, because of course she had not beennotified that she was to be discharged. I quickly went on to say that Iwould not like to make her lose her place, and asked what sort of peoplethey were who lived in the house. I got her talking and soon found outthat it is a kind of private boarding-school, and that there is a childthere, a girl of fourteen named Rose Mitchel, and that your man is herfather. How does that strike you?"
"My girl, you are a genius. But still you knew this the day beforeyesterday. Why did you not report?"
"I went down again yesterday to try to learn more. I sat out in the parkand watched the young girls when they came out for an airing. I couldnot find a chance to speak to the girl, but I found out which is she byhearing the others call her name. I had my camera along, and I took herportrait for you. What do you say now. Have I wasted my time?"
"Not at all. You are clever, but you will never be great, because youare too conceited. However I have nothing but praise for you this time.Get me the picture."
The girl went upstairs and returned with a small, rather dim photographof a young, pretty girl, and gave it to Mr. Barnes. About half an hourlater he left the house.
An Artist in Crime Page 7
