“Of course I know that you mean Mr. Livingstone, but I would like to hear your reasons for suspecting him.”
“From your account Miss Livingstone suspected some one, and this caused her to be so agitated that she was unaware of the fact that she had changed her seat. Women are shrewd in these affairs, and I was confident that the girl had good reasons for her conduct. It was evident that the person in her mind was either her brother or her sweetheart. I decided between these two men from your account of your interviews with them. Moore impressed you as being honest, and he told you that one of the ladies suspected him. In this he was mistaken, but his speaking to you of it was not the act of a thief. Mr. Livingstone, on the other hand, tried to throw suspicion upon Mr. Gray.”
“Of course that was sound reasoning after you had concluded that Mrs. Gray was lying. Now tell me how you recovered the jewel.”
“That was easier than I expected. When I got him alone, I simply told Mr. Livingstone what I knew, and asked him to hand me the opal. With a perfectly imperturbable manner, understanding that I promised secrecy, he quietly took it from his pocket and gave it to me, saying:
“Women are very poor conspirators. They are too weak.”
“What story did you tell Mr. Gray?”
“Oh, he would not be likely to inquire too closely into what I should tell him. My check was what he most cared for. I told him nothing definitely, but I hinted that his wife had secreted the gem during the darkness, that he might not ask her for it again; and that she had intended to find it again at a future time, just as he had meant to pawn it and then pretend to recover it from the thief by offering a reward.”
“One more question. Why did Mr. Livingstone steal it?”
“Ah; the truth about that is another mystery worth probing, and one which I shall make it my business to unravel. I will venture a prophecy. Mr. Livingstone did not steal it at all. Mrs. Gray simply handed it to him in the darkness. There must have been some powerful motive to lead her to such an act; something which she was weighing, and decided impulsively. This brings me to a second point. Livingstone used the word conspirators; that is a clue. You will recall that I told you that this gem is one of a pair of opals, and that with the other, the two would be as interesting as any jewels in the world. If anyone ever owns both it shall be your humble servant, Leroy Mitchel, Jewel Collector.”
25 This story first appeared in The Idler in April 1895.
26 Mitchel here espouses the views of Sherlock Holmes, who, in “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle,” said of the stolen gem: “Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil’s pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is not yet twenty years old.… In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallized charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and the prison?” Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (London: George Newnes, 1892), 165.
27 A harlequin is a stone in which the interior play of light or color (known as “fire”) forms diamond- or rectangular-shaped patches. The more extensive the pattern, the more valuable.
VII: The Duplicate Harlequin
One day about two weeks after the unravelling of the mystery of the opal lost on board the yacht Idler, Mr. Barnes called upon Mr. Mitchel and was cordially received.
“Glad to see you, Mr. Barnes. Anything stirring in the realm of crime?”
“‘Stirring’ would be a fitting adjective, I think, Mr. Mitchel. Ever since the Idler affair I have occupied myself with a study of the problem, which I am convinced we have but partially solved. You may recall that you gave me a clue.”
“You mean that Livingstone, when he gave me the opal, remarked, ‘Women are poor conspirators.’ Yes, I remember calling your attention to that. Has your clue led to any solution?”
“Oh, I am not out of the maze yet; more likely just entering the most intricate depths. Still, I flatter myself that I have accomplished something; enough to satisfy me that ‘mischief is brewing,’ and that the conspirators are still conspiring. Moreover, there is little doubt that you are deeply concerned in the new plot.”
“What! You insinuate that I am in this conspiracy?”
“Only as a possible victim. You are the object of the plot.”
“Perhaps you think that I am in danger?” Mr. Mitchel smiled as though the idea of danger were a pleasurable one.
“Were you any other man than yourself, I should say most decidedly that you are in danger.”
“But, being myself, you fancy that the danger will pass from me?”
“Being yourself, I anticipate that you will compel the danger to pass from you.”
“Mr. Barnes, you flatter me. Perhaps I may be able to thwart the conspirators, now that you warn me; if I do, however, I must admit my great indebtedness to you. To be forewarned is to have the fight half won, and I candidly say that I was entirely unsuspicious of any lurking danger.”
“Exactly. With all your acumen, I was sure that your suspicions had not been aroused. The conspirators are wary, and, I assure you, unusually skilful. So, under all the circumstances, I felt it my duty to be on the alert.”
“Ah, I see,” said Mr. Mitchel, in that tone peculiar to him, which made it doubtful whether he spoke in earnest, or whether his words hid keen satire. “The old cat being asleep, the kitten watches. That is very nice of you. Really, it is quite a comforting thought that so skilful a detective is ever guarding my person. Especially as I am the owner of so many gems to which the covetous must ever look longingly.”
“That is just how I reasoned it,” said Mr. Barnes, eagerly, wishing to justify his actions, which he began to suspect Mr. Mitchel might resent. “You explained to me your reasons why you have purchased so many valuable jewels. You claimed that almost every large gem has been the cause, or rather the object, of crime. The Aztec Opal came into your possession under most peculiar circumstances. In fact, you thwarted a criminal just as he had come into possession of it. But this criminal is a wealthy man. Not perhaps as rich as yourself, but rich enough to be above stealing even such a valuable bauble. It could not have been the intrinsic value of the opal which tempted him; it must have been that some special reason existed; some reason, I mean, for his acquiring possession of this particular opal. All this being true, it would be a natural sequence that his efforts to get the opal would not cease merely because it had changed hands.”
“Your argument is most interesting, Mr. Barnes, especially as it is without a flaw. As you say, from all this reasoning it was a natural sequence that Mr. Livingstone would continue his quest for the opal. This being so obvious, did you imagine that it had escaped me?”
Mr. Barnes was confused by the question. He really admired Mr. Mitchel very much, and though he considered him quite conceited, he also admitted that he had great analytical powers and remarkable acumen. He also, more than anything else, desired a perpetuation of his friendship; indeed, it had been with an idea of increasing the bond between them that he had called. He had spent much of his time, time which could have been occupied with other matters to better financial advantage, and all with the purpose of warding off from his friend a danger which he had at first considered as a distant possibility, but which later he looked upon as certain, if nothing intervened to hinder the plot, which he knew was rapidly approaching the moment of execution. He therefore hastened to make further explanation:
“Not at all—not at all. I am merely indicating the steps by which I reached my conclusions. I am giving you my reasons for what I fear you now may consider my interference in your affairs. Yet I assure you I meant it all—”
“For the best. Why, of course, my friend; did you suppose that I doubted your go
od intent, merely because I spoke brusquely?” Mr. Mitchel held out his hand cordially, and Mr. Barnes grasped it, glad to note the altered demeanor of his companion. Mr. Mitchel continued: “Will you never learn that my weakness is for antagonizing detectives? When you come here to tell me that you have been ‘investigating’ my private affairs, how could I resist telling you that I knew all about it, or that I could take care of myself? I would not be Leroy Mitchel were it otherwise.”
“How do you mean that you know all about it?”
“Well, perhaps not all. I am not exactly omniscient. Still, I know something. Let me see, now. How much do I know? First, then, you have had this Livingstone watched. Second, you have introduced one of your spies, a young woman, into the home of Mrs. Gray. In spite of your alleged faith in Dennett Moore, you had him watched also, though for only two or three days. Lastly, you have discovered Pedro Domingo, and—”
“In Heaven’s name, Mr. Mitchel, how do you know all this?” Mr. Barnes was utterly dumbfounded by what he had heard.
“All this?” said Mr. Mitchel, with a suave smile; “why, I have mentioned only four small facts.”
“Small facts?”
“Yes, quite small. Let us run them over again. First, I stated that you had Mr. Livingstone watched. That was not hard to know, because I also had a spy upon his track.”
“You?”
“Yes, I. Why not? Did you not just now agree that it was obvious that he would continue his efforts to get the opal? Being determined that I should never part with it whilst alive, it likewise followed that he must kill me, or have me killed, in order to obtain it. Under these circumstances it was only common caution to have the man watched. Indeed, the method was altogether too common. It was bizarre. Still, my spy was no common spy.
“In that, at least, my method was unique. Secondly, I claimed that you had introduced a woman spy into the home of Mrs. Gray. To learn this was even easier. I deduced it from what I know of your methods. You played the same trick on my wife once, I think you will recall. Supposing Mrs. Gray to be a conspirator (that was your clue, I think), you would hardly watch Livingstone and neglect the woman. Yet the actual knowledge came to me in a very simple manner.”
“How was that?”
“Why, Mr. Gray told me.”
“Mr. Gray told you?”
“Mr. Gray himself. You see, your assistants are not all so clever as yourself, though I doubt not this girl may think that she is a genius. You told her to seek a position in the house, and what does she do? She goes straight to Mr. Gray and tells him her purpose; hints that it might be well for him to know just what really actuated Mrs. Gray in the curious affair on the yacht, and agrees to ‘discover everything’—those were her words—if he would give her the opportunity. Poor man, she filled his mind with dire suspicions and he managed it so that she was taken into service. Up to the present time she has discovered nothing. At least, so she tells him.”
“The little she-devil! You said that she explained her whole purpose. Do you mean—”
“Oh, no. She did not implicate you, nor divulge her true mission. The fun of the thing is that she claimed to be a ‘private detective’ and that this venture was entirely her own idea. In fact, she is working for Mr. Gray. Is not that droll?” Mr. Mitchel threw back his head and laughed heartily. Mr. Barnes did not quite see the fun, and looked grim. All he said was:
“She acted beyond her instructions, yet it seems that she has not done any harm; and though she is like an untamed colt, apt to take the bit between her teeth, still she is shrewd. But I’ll curb her yet. Now as to your third fact. How did you know that I had Mr. Moore watched, and only for two or three days?”
“Why, I recognized one of your spies following him one day down Broadway, and as Moore sailed for Europe two days after, I made the deduction that you had withdrawn your watch-dog.”
“Well, then,” said Mr. Barnes, testily, “how did you know that I had, as you declare, ‘discovered Pedro Domingo’?”
“How did I know that? Why—but that can wait. You certainly did not call this morning to ask me all these questions. You came, as I presume, to convey information.”
“Oh, you know so much, it is evidently unnecessary for me to tell you of my trifling discoveries.” Mr. Barnes was suffering from wounded pride.
“Come, come,” exclaimed Mr. Mitchel, cheerily, “be a man; don’t be downcast and fall into the dumps merely because I surprised a few trifling facts in your game, and could not resist the fun of guying you a little. You see, I still admit that what I know are but trifling facts; what you know, on the contrary, is perhaps of great importance. Indeed, I am assured that without your information, without a full knowledge of all that you have discovered, my own plans may go awry, and then the danger at which you hint might be all too real. Do you not see that, knowing that you are interested in this case, I have been only too willing to let half the burden of the investigation fall upon you? That to your skill I have entrusted all of that work which I knew you could do so well? That in the most literal sense we have been silent partners, and that I depended upon your friendship to bring you to me with your news, just as it has brought you?”
This speech entirely mollified Mr. Barnes, and, with a brightening countenance, he exclaimed:
“Mr. Mitchel, I’m an ass. You are right to laugh at me.”
“Nonsense! I defy all other detectives, because Mr. Barnes works with me.”
“Bosh!” said the detective, deprecatingly, but pleased nevertheless by the words of flattery. “Well, then, suppose I tell you my story from the beginning?”
“From the beginning, by all means.”
“In speaking of the woman whom I set to spy upon Mrs. Gray, you just now mentioned that I had once played the same trick upon your wife. Very true, and not only is this the same trick, but it is the same girl.”
“What! Lucette?”
“The same. This is not the first time that she has chosen to resort to her own devices rather than to follow strictly the orders given to her. In this case, however, as I said before, she has done no harm, and on the contrary, I think you would find her report, which I received an hour ago, quite interesting.”
“Ah, you have brought it with you?”
“Yes. I will read it to you. Of course it is not addressed to me, neither is there any signature. No names are mentioned except by initial. All this is the girl’s own devising, so you see she is not entirely stupid. She writes:
“‘At last I have discovered everything.’ You observe that she is not unappreciative of her own ability. ‘Mr. L. was right. Women are bad conspirators. At least he is right as to Mrs. G. She has dropped the conspiracy entirely, if she ever was a real conspirator, which I doubt, for, though you may not suspect it, she loves her husband. How do I know? Well, a woman has instincts about love. A man may swear eternal devotion to a woman eight hours a day for a year, without convincing her, when she would detect the true lover by the way he ties her shoe-string, unasked. So here. I have not heard madame talking in her sleep, neither has she taken her maid for a confidante, though I think she might find a worse adviser. Still I say she loves her husband. How do I know? When a woman is constantly doing things which add to the comfort of a man, and for which she never receives thanks, because they are such trifles, you may be sure the woman loves the man, and by hundreds of such tokens I know that Mrs. G. is in love with her husband. To reach the next point I must give you an axiom. A woman never loves more than one man at a time. She may have many lovers in the course of a lifetime, but in each instance she imagines that all previous affairs were delusions, and that at last the divine fire consumes her. To this last love she is constant until he proves unworthy, and ofttimes even after. No, a man may be able to love two persons, but a woman’s affections are ever centred in a single idol. From which it is a logical deduction that Mrs. G. does not and did not love Mr. L. Then
why did she give him the opal? A question which will puzzle you, and for which you are at a loss for an answer.’”
“She is not complimentary,” interrupted Mr. Mitchel.
“Not very,” said Mr. Barnes, and then he continued reading:
“‘This is a question at which I arrived, as you see, by logical mental stages. This is the question to which I have found the reply. This is what I mean when I say I have discovered all. Yesterday afternoon Mr. L. called. Madame hesitated, but finally decided to see him. From her glances in my direction, I was sure she feared I might accidentally find it convenient to be near enough to a keyhole to overhear the conversation which was about to ensue, and, as I did not wish her to make such an “accident” impossible, I innocently suggested that if she intended to receive a visitor, I should be glad to have permission to leave the house for an hour. The trick worked to a charm. Madame seemed only too glad to get rid of me. I hurried down stairs into the back parlor, where, by secreting myself between the heavy portieres and the closed folding-doors, my sharp ears readily followed the conversation, except such few passages as were spoken in very low tones, but which I am sure were unimportant. The details I will give you when I see you. Suffice it to say that I discovered that madame’s reason for refusing to let her husband sell the jewel to that crank Mr. M.—’”
“Ah; I see she remembers me,” said Mr. Mitchel, with a smile.
“How could she forget your locking her in a room when she was most anxious to be elsewhere? But let me finish this:
“‘—to that crank Mr. M. was because Mr. L. was telling her how to make a deal more money out of the jewel. It seems that he has the mate to it, and that the two were stolen from an idol somewhere in Mexico, and that a fabulous sum could be obtained by returning the two gems to the native priests. Just how, I do not know.’”
Final Proof Page 19
