An Artist in Crime. Ottolengui Rodrigues
if you please, I have with me but two small satchels. If the porter will bring them I will unlock them for you. I have no trunk, as I only went to Boston for a day's trip."
The satchels were brought, examined, and nothing found.
"Now, gentlemen, I suppose I am free, as we are at my station. I shall only remain here a few hours and will then go on to New York. If you should wish to see me again I shall stop at the Hoffman House. Here is my card. Au revoir."
Mr. Barnes took the card and scrutinized it.
"What do you think?" asked the conductor.
"Think? Oh, you mean of that fellow. You need not worry about him. There is not a shadow of suspicion against him – at present. Besides, should we ever want him, I could find him again. Here is his name – Alphonse Thauret – card genuine too, of French make and style of type. We can dismiss him now and turn our attention to the other passengers. Do you suppose I could have an interview with the woman?"
"You shall have it if you wish. We will not consult her wishes in the matter. The affair is too serious."
"Very well then send her in here and let me have a few words with her alone. Don't tell her that I am a detective. Leave that to me."
A few minutes later a tall woman apparently about forty-five years of age entered. She was not handsome yet had a pleasing face. As she seated herself she looked keenly at Mr. Barnes in a stealthy manner which should have attracted that gentleman's earnest thought. Apparently he did not notice it. The woman spoke first.
"The conductor has sent me in here to see you. What have you to do with the case?"
"Nothing!"
"Nothing? Then why – "
"When I say I have nothing to do with the case, I mean simply that it rests with you whether I shall undertake to restore to you your diamonds or not. I look after such things for this road, but if the loser does not wish any action taken by the road, why then we drop the matter. Do you wish me to make a search for the stolen property?"
"I certainly wish to recover the jewels, as they are very valuable; but I am not sure that I desire to place the case in the hands of a detective."
"Who said that I am a detective?"
"Are you not one?"
Mr. Barnes hesitated a moment, but quickly decided on his course.
"I am a detective, connected with a private agency. Therefore I can undertake to look up the thief without publicity. That is your main objection to placing the case in my hands is it not?"
"You are shrewd. There are reasons, family reasons, why I do not wish this loss published to the world. If you can undertake to recover the jewels and keep this robbery out of the newspapers I would pay you well."
"I will take the case. Now answer me a few questions. First, your name and address."
"My name is Rose Mitchel, and I am living temporarily in a furnished flat at – East Thirtieth Street. I have only recently come from New Orleans, my home, and am looking for suitable apartments."
Mr. Barnes took out his note-book and made a memorandum of the address.
"Married or single?"
"Married; but my husband has been dead for several years."
"Now about these jewels. How did it happen that you were travelling with so valuable a lot of jewelry?"
"I have not lost jewelry, but jewels. They are unset stones of rare beauty – diamonds, rubies, pearls, and other precious stones. When my husband died, he left a large fortune; but there were also large debts which swallowed up everything save what was due him from one creditor. This was an Italian nobleman – I need not mention his name – who died almost at the same time as my husband. The executors communicated with me, and our correspondence culminated in my accepting these jewels in payment of the debt. I received them in Boston yesterday, and already I have lost them. It is too cruel, too cruel." She gripped her hands together convulsively, and a few tears coursed down her face. Mr. Barnes mused a few moments and seemed not to be observing her.
"What was the value of these jewels?"
"A hundred thousand dollars."
"By what express company were they sent to you?" The question was a simple one, and Mr. Barnes asked it rather mechanically, though he was wondering if the thief had come across the ocean – from France perhaps. He was therefore astonished at the effect produced. The woman arose suddenly, her whole manner changed. She replied with her lips compressed tightly, as though laboring under some excitement.
"That is not essential. Perhaps I am telling too much to a stranger anyway. Come to my apartment this evening, and I will give you further particulars – if I decide to leave the case in your hands. If not I will pay you for whatever trouble you have in the interim. Good-morning."
Mr. Barnes watched her leave the room without offering to detain her or making any comment on her singular manner. Without rising from his seat he looked out of the window and strummed on the pane. What he thought it would be difficult to tell, but presently he said aloud, though there was no one to hear him:
"I think she is a liar."
Having relieved himself thus, he returned to his own coach. He found two gentlemen in the toilet room allowing themselves to be searched, laughing over the matter as a huge joke. He passed by and entered his own compartment, which the porter had put in order. One after another the few passengers arose, heard of the robbery, and cheerfully passed through the ordeal of being searched.
At last his patience was rewarded by seeing the curtains of number eight moving, and a moment later a fine-looking young man of six-and-twenty emerged, partly dressed, and went towards the toilet. Mr. Barnes sauntered after him, and entered the smoking-room. He had scarcely seated himself before a man entered, who was evidently the other occupant of section eight. Whilst this second man was washing, the conductor explained to the other about the robbery, and suggested that he allow himself to be searched. By this time the conductor was becoming excited. They were within a few minutes of New York, and all his passengers had been examined save these two. Yet these two looked more aristocratic than any of the others. He was astonished therefore to observe that the young man addressed seemed very much disturbed. He stammered and stuttered, seeking words, and finally in a hoarse voice addressed his companion:
"Bob, do you hear, there's been a robbery!"
His friend Bob was bending over the water basin, his head and face covered with a stiff soap lather and his hands rubbing his skin vigorously. Before replying he dipped his head completely under the water, held it so submerged a moment then stood erect with eyes shut and reached for a towel. In a moment he had wiped the suds from his eyes, and looking at his friend he answered most unconcernedly:
"What of it?"
"But – but – the conductor wants to search me."
"All right. What are you afraid of? You are not the thief, are you?"
"No – but – "
"There is no but in it. If you are innocent let them go through you." Then with a light laugh he turned to the glass and began arranging his cravat. His friend looked at him a moment with an expression which no one but Mr. Barnes understood. The detective had recognized by their voices that it was Bob who had made the wager to commit a crime, and it was plain that his friend already suspected him. His fright was occasioned by the thought that perhaps Bob had stolen the jewels during the night and then secreted them in his clothing, where if found the suspicion would not be on Bob. Mr. Barnes was amused as he saw the young man actually searching himself. In a few minutes, with a sigh of intense relief, having evidently discovered nothing foreign in his pockets, he turned to the conductor who stood waiting and expectant.
"Mr. Conductor," he began, "I fear that my conduct has seemed suspicious. I can't explain, but nevertheless I am perfectly willing to have you make a search. Indeed I am anxious that it should be a thorough one." The examination was made and, as with the others, nothing was found.
"Here is my card. I am Arthur Randolph, of the firm J. Q. Randolph