An Artist in Crime. Ottolengui Rodrigues
I have given my word," and the discussion was ended. A few moments later she had affectionately seated herself at her mother's feet, and after tenderly kissing her, whispered "I love him. He is my king," and then buried her head in her parent's lap. Few women argue against an appeal of that nature. Thus Emily and Mr. Mitchel became engaged, after which he came and went much as though he were the master of the house. Why not, since he had become the master of its mistress?
Dora was her sister's antithesis, save that both were brunettes. She was simply a lovable, docile, impressionable, pretty girl. She adored her mother, and worshipped her sister whom she called "The Queen." Dora was only seventeen. There had been three boys born between the sisters, but they had died in infancy.
The two girls were in the sumptuous parlor of their apartment, Emily lying on the soft lounge, whilst Dora sat near her in a cosy armchair which made her look almost a little girl.
"Queen, did you enjoy the opera last night?" asked Dora.
"Oh! yes," replied Emily, "But you know, my dear, comic opera – is comic opera, and all is said."
"It's all very fine for you to talk in that patronizing way, Queen, about amusement, but it is different with me. I have not outgrown the theatre yet. I'll tell you what I have been thinking of seriously – "
"Seriously," laughed Emily, pinching her pretty sister's cheek. "Why you sly little rogue, you couldn't be serious if you tried."
"Oh! couldn't I! But listen. I am going to ask Bob – "
"Bob?"
"Mr. Mitchel, you know. I told him last night that I mean to call him Bob after this, and he kissed me and said it was a bargain."
"Kissed you, did he? Well Miss Impudence, I like that."
"So did I. But you need not scold, because you know what Bob says is law. You are as much afraid of him as – well as all the rest of the men are of you. But I haven't told you what I am going to do. I want Bob to take me with you both, whenever you go to the theatre."
"Oho! So that is your little plot, is it?"
"Yes! What do you think of it?"
"What do I think of it? Now I shall surprise you. I think it is an excellent idea. I love you very much, my little sweetheart sister, and shall be only too glad to see you have as much pleasure as your heart longs for."
"You darling Queen!" and with an impetuous bound the younger girl was on her knees with her arms around Emily, raining kisses upon her lips. This effusive show of affection, Emily received with evident pleasure, for, however dignified she could be in her bearing, leaving the impression that she was cold, in reality she was warm-hearted to a degree which would have surprised the gossips.
Nestling her head in the folds of her sister's soft silk gown, thus hiding her face, Dora said timidly:
"May I tell you something Queen?"
"Ha! You mischief, what have you to confess now?"
"I have invited a man to call here," replied Dora suddenly raising her head, and speaking with a different touch in her tones.
"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 unobservant 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 passed 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 buttons, 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 button?"
Mr. Barnes assumed an expression of surprise as though the idea was entirely new to him. All he said was:
"It may have been a button, 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 assented 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 buttons."
"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 button 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 button. 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 button still? Had that matchless schemer Mitchel sent her a note warning her to say that there were