CHAPTER XV.
MR. MITCHEL EXPLAINS A FEW THINGS.
Immediately upon his arrival in New York, Mr. Barnes went to his office.Here he was slightly surprised to find Lucette.
"Well," said he, tersely.
"I came here," said the girl, "so that I could report to you the minuteyou got here. There is no time to lose."
"Why, what is up?"
"Your plan about my getting information from the East Orange post-officedid not work. The man said that though he would like to serve you, hewas afraid it might be construed into tampering with the mails. That youwould need an order from the Postmaster-General. I went to work then onthe other line, and began a systematic examination of every house in theplace. It was hard work, but at last I found the child. You don't wantdetails now, because she has been taken away again. Mitchel went downyesterday and brought her to New York."
"Why did you not follow him and see where he took her?"
"I did, and this time I am sure he did not suspect that I was after him.He took the child to the Remsens."
"To the Remsens? What can that mean?"
"I don't know. But Mitchel and Miss Remsen are to be married at St.Patrick's Cathedral at ten o'clock this morning."
"Not if I can stop it," replied the detective, and he hastened up to thechurch with the result told in the last chapter.
Promptly at two o'clock Mr. Barnes presented himself at the Fifth AvenueHotel accompanied by Mr. Neuilly. They were asked to go up to Mr.Mitchel's apartments, and there they were greeted by that gentleman asaffably as though they had been of his wedding party. Indeed he beganthe conversation in rather a jocular way, saying:
"Ah! Mr. Barnes, delighted that now I can entertain you more at myleisure. This morning you see I was in a great hurry. You called at avery inopportune time, and I am afraid that I was rather abrupt."
"Mr. Mitchel, I am not in the humor for nonsense. This is a very seriousvisit, I assure you. This gentleman is Mr. Neuilly, of New Orleans, andhe has come all this distance to aid the cause of justice."
"Delighted to meet you, Mr. Neuilly, I am sure," said Mr. Mitchel,approaching and extending his hand so cordially that the elder man tookit, though he had thought that he would rather handle hot coals than thehand of the man who he supposed was guilty of wronging the daughter ofhis old friend in the South. Mr. Mitchel did not seem to notice hisagitation, but begging them to be seated, he himself took a comfortablechair and continued: "Now, Mr. Barnes, I am wondering if it is possiblethat you have traced my wife's ruby as far away as New Orleans?"
"I have not been looking for it. I suppose you know why I wished to stopyour marriage?"
"Why, no; not precisely. What was your reason?"
"If you do not know it, why did you get married yesterday?"
"I might reply that it is often done, but I will be honest and tell youthat such a procedure never occurred to me till I heard that you werecoming home. Then, you see, I thought that you might take the idea intoyour head--you do get odd notions, you must admit--that I ought not toget married just now. I knew you well enough to believe that if you didharbor a thought of that nature you would not hesitate to interfere. Idid you no injustice there, for that is just what you tried to do, yousee. Consequently, as I had set my heart on being married in theCathedral precisely at the time appointed, I just took the bull by thehorns and persuaded my little girl to marry me yesterday. That is mystory in full, I assure you. Now, what was your object?"
"You know it very well, and all this yarning is pure bluster. You knowwell enough that I wanted to use Miss Emily Remsen as a witness againstyou, and that I could not do so after she became Mrs. Mitchel."
"Oh! Well, yes; I admit that idea was in my mind, Mr. Barnes. Andnow--what are you going to do about it?"
"In the first place I shall arrest you for abducting the child, who wasin the care of Rose Montalbon." Mr. Barnes expected some surprise fromhis adversary but he was disappointed.
"Yes," said he, "and then?"
"Then I shall compel you, through the court, to reveal her presenthiding-place, and to produce her."
"I think you might have trouble to do that, were it not that I do notobject to it. In fact we will reverse your order of things and beginwith the production of the child. Emily!" In answer to his call, hiswife came into the room, bringing with her a beautiful girl. Her husbandarose, and taking the little one by the hand, coolly approached Mr.Neuilly, and said, "Rose, this is Mr. Neuilly. He was a dear good friendto your mother, and has come all the way from New Orleans to see you. Ithink he would like to kiss you, would you not, Mr. Neuilly?"
That gentleman seemed much moved. To him the vision of lovelinessstanding demurely before him, brought back the memory of the long ago.She reminded him of another little girl whose growth into buddingwomanhood he had watched tenderly, having in his youth loved her mother,the grandparent of the child before him. His suit had not beensuccessful, and for love of that woman he had remained a bachelor allhis days. Now he could see changing expressions in this young face,which reminded him of both of those women who had been dear to him.Without a word, he drew her towards him, and kissed her once. Then hearose, still holding her hand, and led her towards the door of thenext room; there he kissed her once more, this time on the forehead, andthen bade her wait, shutting the door after she left him. Then turningwith a fury in his heart, and repressed passion in his voice, heexclaimed:
"Mr. Mitchel, either you are the most contemptible villain on the faceof this earth, or else there is some hideous mistake here. Explain it,man, I must know at once!"
"Must, Mr. Neuilly, is a word that I seldom obey. But I know how youhave suffered, and have no desire to prolong this interview a momentmore than is absolutely necessary. First, however, I must understand thesituation. What do you and Mr. Barnes here think it to be?"
"I will explain briefly," said the detective, "provided your wife willwithdraw."
"My wife is now a part of myself," said Mr. Mitchel, proudly placing anarm around her as she stood beside him. "You need not hesitate to speak.She has promised to share my life with me, to take me as I am. She willbegin the task at once. Go on."
"So be it. I know now that Rose Mitchel, who was murdered, was known inNew Orleans as Rose Montalbon, and that she was your wife. I have alsodiscovered that you deceived a young Creole, the mother of that childwho has just left us. That when you deserted her, she died brokenhearted, whilst you allowed the Montalbon woman to take the girl andpass it off as her own, though later she was kidnapped by you. Thewoman suspected that you would wish to marry again, and swore toprevent it. Her appearance upon the scene just as you were to become ahusband, must have been a menace to you. Do you see the point? Murdershave been committed with less motive. I think therefore that I havesufficient evidence upon which to arrest you."
"You might arrest me upon less evidence," said Mr. Mitchel. "It is doneevery day. But to convict me you would have to prove all this."
"How do you know that I cannot prove it?"
"For the very simple reason, that your facts are all wrong."
"Very good, Mr. Mitchel, but you will have to prove that."
"I am fully prepared to do so. To begin with, according to your story, Iabducted this child. There you are only partly right. I did take heraway from the Montalbon, and I did it as you might say, by stealth andforce. But I had the fullest right to do so."
"You admit then that you are her father?"
"On the contrary, I deny it, and there is the weak point in your story.Your argument all depends upon my having been guilty of wronging thatgirl's mother, and the Montalbon's having me in her power. In point offact, I am not her father, and the Montalbon had but a slim chance toblackmail me."
"But you admitted to me that you allowed her to do so. That you gave hera large amount, in jewels."
"That is true, yet I did not submit to blackmail."
"Mr. Mitchel I seldom forget a man's words. You told me that day in thevaults that you
were in the woman's power, that she could ventilatecertain scandals which might break your engagement. Yet now you say youwere not in her power and that you did not submit to blackmail. How canyou explain such conflicting statements?"
"Two conflicting statements may both be true, provided a lapse of timeoccurs between them. When I admitted that I had been in the power ofthat woman, I thought so, therefore I spoke the truth. When I say nowthat I was not, I also speak truly. In the interval, I have learned toappreciate the character of the woman who is now my wife. That is all. Iknow now that the Montalbon's story blazoned forth to the world, wouldnot have affected her faith in me, if I had told her my own version."
"For heaven's sake, gentlemen," interrupted Mr. Neuilly, "stop thisargument, and get down to the facts. I am impatient to know the truth."
"Yes, Roy," said Emily, "why not simply tell the story as a narrative,and let the whole truth be known?"
"That is what I mean to do. I have only been enjoying a little sparringwith Mr. Barnes. But it is cruel to Mr. Neuilly, who I hope will pardonme. To begin at the beginning, I must go back to my youth in NewOrleans. I was in love with a beautiful young girl." Here he pressed hiswife's hand, and she returned it, as though to say that she understood."I think I need not mention the name of Rose's mother, Mr. Neuilly,unless you have already done so."
"Heaven forbid that I should have betrayed the secret," said the oldman.
"I did not suppose that you had, for I know you to be a true man, thoughI have never met you before. This statement may surprise you, but it istrue. I am not the man for whom you take me. He is now in a lunaticasylum, whilst I am his cousin. I know it is supposed that I am thecrazy man, but that is an error, promulgated by the Montalbon to serveher own ends. The facts then are thus: Whilst a boy at school I loved mygirl companion, little Rose's mother. Just before I left the South toenter Harvard, I told my little girl sweetheart--she was then butfifteen--that I would marry her upon my return. This was my first love,and hers. I had a cousin, older than myself by ten years, handsome andwealthy, but a gambler, and addicted to heavy drinking. This womanMontalbon, as you know, kept a gambling den and naturally my unfortunatecousin was a constant visitor at the house. One night whilst intoxicatedwith wine, she persuaded him to marry her, a clergyman being called inand a ceremony privately performed. He became entirely sober only afterseveral days had passed, and then had entirely forgotten about themarriage. The scheming devil, Montalbon, did not remind him of it, butby patient work insidiously persuaded him that he should be a marriedman. She even suggested a bride, none other than my little sweetheart.Her object in this was twofold, money and revenge. By leading my cousininto a bigamous alliance, with her own marriage certificate as a weapon,she could readily extort money from him. Her revenge was to be againstthe family of my little sweetheart, against whom she thought she had agrievance. Her plotting was entirely successful. My cousin was handsome,I was away, and once he had become thoroughly acquainted with the youngCreole's charms, he became so ardent a suitor, that at length shelistened to his pleading and married him. Then he was in the power ofthe Montalbon, and she bled him for five years, by which time littleRose had been born.
"Meanwhile I had completed my college career, but had not returned toNew Orleans because of my deep disappointment upon learning that mysweetheart had married another man. At this time I was in Paris, whenone day I received a piteous letter from the girl-wife telling me thatthe blow had fallen, that the Montalbon had produced her marriagecertificate and claimed her husband, thus dishonoring the daughter ofher enemy. The letter also begged my forgiveness for the wrong done tome. I read between the lines and recognized the cry of a broken heart,the bleat of a lamb left to die on the frozen plain. I hurried home withbut one thought uppermost, to have revenge upon my cousin. I arrived toolate. Not only was the girl dead, but my cousin had disappeared.
"I heard that he had gone out West, and thither I followed him. I wouldget track of him from time to time, but it seemed fated always that heshould have just left a place when I confidently expected to come upwith him. Thus five years passed, and at last I did meet him. I at oncecharged him with his crime, and asked for revenge. He laughed at me andrefused to fight. I then warned him that I should take his life at thefirst chance that offered, when I could do so either under seemingprovocation, or else where I could not be suspected."
"Are you not admitting," interrupted Mr. Barnes, "that you harbored amurderous spirit?"
"Mr. Barnes, if all men were punished for their thoughts, the criminalclass would be greatly enlarged. You cannot call me to account foranything except my acts. At last my chance came. I followed him one darknight as he went off prospecting in an entirely new direction; we werein a mining country. He tramped most of the night and I pursued. By dawnwe were miles away from a habitation. I then made myself known to him,and once more asked him to fight it out. He saw that I was in earnest,and that he was simply compelled to battle for his life. Under thesecircumstances of course he fought, as the worst coward must do, whendriven to desperation. He decided to use pistols, though I wished to tryour cause with knives. I confess that I wanted the satisfaction ofstabbing him again and again. I wanted to see his life's blood flow ateach stroke. It seemed to me tame to stand off at a distance and sendone little leaden ball in his direction. Still I admitted his right ofchoice, and determined to aim as accurately as possible and to send mybullet straight. You see I did not think of my own life. I had made thisvengeance my one object, and after accomplishing that, I thought therewould be nothing more for me to do. Consequently I expected to kill himeasily, and I did not care if his bullet found my heart or not. PerhapsI hoped it would. Just as we were standing up and preparing to fight,something occurred that almost completely unnerved me and changed thewhole result. He lowered his pistol and said:
"'Wait a moment; I have a favor to ask. I feel certain that you willkill me. You have been seeking my life so long, that I am sure you willget it. It is fate. But I too have suffered in the last five years. Thefavor that I ask is, that if I die you will promise to get my child outof that fiend's clutches.'
"'Your child,' I gasped. 'I thought it died.'
"'That was the Montalbon's lie. The little girl lived, and she took it.I have made a will in favor of my child, leaving her all my wealth; youwill find it in my coat. Oddly enough, I named you as executor. I knewthat you had loved the mother, though, as God is my judge, I did notknow it when I married her. But I am ready if you are.'
"Thus we stood up and fired at each other. The startling news justreceived made my aim bad, for instead of hitting him in the heart, as Icould easily have done, my bullet struck him in the head. He fell, and Irushed towards him, to discover whether he was badly hurt. He wasbleeding profusely, and I hastily bandaged up the wound, and so stoppedthe flow of blood. I then went on to the next mining camp beyond. Wereturned with a litter, and took him back. There was a man amongst uswho claimed that he had studied medicine, and he attended my cousin. Heremoved the bullet, and found that the wound was not very deep, but theskull was fractured. He was ill for two months, and then slowlyrecovered his health. But his reason was entirely gone. I took him toNew Orleans and placed him in an asylum, and there he has been eversince."
"Very good, Mr. Mitchel," said Mr. Barnes. "But what proof have you thatyou are not the father, and the lunatic the innocent cousin, as so manybelieve?"
"Why, in the first place, though we had the same name, we are totallyunlike in feature. I think Mr. Neuilly will admit that he would not haverecognized me, and he knew the guilty man. However, we will take that uplater. I have no fear of not proving my identity. Too many people in NewOrleans know me. To continue my tale, I determined to get possession ofthe child. I knew that the Montalbon would resist, and that I would findit difficult to prove my story. More than all, I knew that I could notobtain legal possession of her without disclosing the secret of herbirth, which I wished to avoid for her own sake, as well as for hermother's. I therefore stole her
openly in the streets. Detectives weresent out to search for me, but perhaps Mr. Barnes will testify that I amnot much afraid of detectives. Perhaps, too, he will understand betternow why I know something about detective methods. I led them a dancefor two years, until in disgust they abandoned the search. Then I wentabroad, for I must tell you that as long as I was hounded I remainedclose at hand. I enjoyed the excitement. It made me forget, or at leastit gave me occupation. I remained in Europe until my recent return toNew York. It was not very long after that, when I received the letterfrom the Montalbon, and the photograph which I showed to you. Irecognized the picture, though of course I should not have known thesignature, which was Rose Mitchel. I did not fear the woman, but Iexpected some enjoyment at her discomfiture when I should tell her to doher worst. I was not prepared for what occurred. When she met me shebegan by saying:
"'I have not the least idea of attempting to blackmail you, thoughperhaps I could do that. But I have that to sell which I think you wouldbe glad to buy.' I asked what it was, and she told me:
"'A certificate of marriage between your cousin and the child's mother.A certificate of marriage between him and myself, antedating that, andanother certificate of marriage between myself and another man who wasalive at the time that I inveigled your cousin into marrying me.'"
"Great heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Neuilly; "if she had those papers theywould prove that her marriage to your cousin was illegal, and that wouldmake the marriage to Rose's mother perfectly regular."
"Exactly so. I paid the woman ten thousand dollars, or the equivalentof that sum, for those documents. Were they not worth it?"
"Indeed, indeed they are. I would have given twice the sum."
"Now let me show you the audacity of the woman. She told me that in caseI should refuse to pay her price, she intended to claim me as herhusband, exhibiting her certificate, and leaving me to prove, if Icould, that she had married my cousin and not myself. This, you see,would have been most unpleasant, and as the papers were well worth theprice, in clearing the name of my cousin and his wife and child, I paidover the money."
"I must again ask you," said Mr. Barnes, "for proof that you are not thewoman's husband."
"Does not the fact that she sold me those papers indicate that?"
"Not at all," replied the detective. "Supposing you to be really herhusband, wishing to be married to Miss Remsen, you would readily pay thewoman her price for the paper which proved that your marriage to her hadbeen fraudulent. You might have found it difficult to prove theexistence of her first husband without knowing his name, even though shehad given you the hint that there was such a person."
"I declare, Mr. Barnes, you are a doubting Thomas. But I will give youone more bit of evidence." He went to his desk and returned with somepapers. "Here is a confession which I exacted from the woman at the timethat I made the bargain with her. You see, it confirms my story. Buteven _that_ you might think manufactured. Here perhaps is better proof.This," handing it to Mr. Neuilly, "is the certificate of the marriagebetween my cousin and the Montalbon. As is sometimes done, you see, thewoman has pasted the likenesses of herself and my cousin upon the paper.Now, Mr. Neuilly, I ask you, is not that the man who was known to you?"
"You are quite right, Mr. Mitchel. I recognize the face perfectly. Thisis the man I have all along supposed to be a consummate villain. Now Imust confess that he was more sinned against than sinning. His one crimewas drinking, and the entanglement which wrecked his wife's life and hisown was but a wicked plot of which he was innocent. I am glad that it isso, as it leaves the dear little girl without the danger of hereditarytaint."
"Come, Mr. Barnes," said Mr. Mitchel, "what have you to say now?"
Mr. Barnes's reply was calculated to startle his hearers, but seemed tohave little effect. He said:
"Mr. Mitchel, who do you think killed Rose Mitchel?"
"I don't think I am bound to answer," replied Mr. Mitchel, quickly.
"I wish you a good-afternoon," said the detective, dryly. "Will you gowith me, Mr. Neuilly?"
Before the old gentleman could reply Mrs. Mitchel interposed:
"Don't go, Mr. Neuilly. You have seen nothing of Rose yet, and besideswe would like you to attend our reception to-night."
"Ha! Ha! Mr. Barnes! Is she not worthy of being my wife? She takes yourwitness away from you, for I think you will stay, will you not, Mr.Neuilly?"
"It will be a joy to do so. Mr. Barnes, under the circumstances I knowyou will excuse me, and forgive me, will you not?"
"Certainly. You are right to stay. I will leave you all to yourhappiness. And I hope it will last. Good-day," with which he left them.
"Really it is too bad," said Mr. Mitchel, "but these detectives arealways so sanguine. Just think of it, Queen, he thinks, or he thought,perhaps, would be more correct, that you were a murderer's wife. What doyou say, eh?"
For answer she kissed him gently on the forehead, and then went out andbrought back Rose.
An Artist in Crime Page 15
