An Artist in Crime.

Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 8, 26 May 1894, Page 13

An Artist in Crime.

(By Roderigues Ottolengui.)

[Copyright.] Synopsis, of Pkeviofh Oh apt bbs : Two friends* Arthur Randolph and Robert Leroy Mitehel, while travelling from Boston to Kew York, have a discussion as to the usefulness of the detective force Mitchell wagers that he will commit a crime and escape detection for ». given period. Barnes, a famous detective, overhears the conversation. At a later stage in the journey a lady is robbed of her jewels, and all the passengers except Mitohel allow themselves to fje searched. Mitehel ultimately allows himself to be searched, hut without result. The woman who claimed to have lost the jewels was soon after found murdered ir. her bedroom during the night. Two men were seen leaving the place during the evening—Mitohel being one of them. Mr Barnes discovers a clue. CHAPTER IV. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. Mr Barnes, after discovering the cameo button,-immediately left the apartment. With Utile loss of time he reached the ■'Fifth Avenue Hotel. He found Wilson sil ting in the lobby, and learned from him that Mr Mitchel had- not yet corue downstairs. He made his subordinate happy by complimenting him upon his work, and exonerated him from blame because of his having lost his man for a few hours the day before. With the button in his pocket, Mr Barnes found it easy to be good-natured. If the truth were known, he was chuckling to himself. The thought which proved such a fund of merriment was the idea that his mar- up-stairs had proved himself just as human as ordinary criminals, since he had left behind him the very tell-tale mark which he had boasted would not he found after he had committed his crime. Externally, however, there was no sigh to show that Mr Barnes was in any way excited. He calmly asked at the desk for Mr Mitehel, and sent up his card just as any ordinary visitor might have done. In a few moments the hall-boy returned with the curt message, “ Come up.” Mr Barnes was shown up one flight of stairs into a suite of two rooms and a bath, overlooking Twenty-third Street. The room which he passed into from the hall was fitted up like a bachelor’s parlour. Comfortable stuffed chairs and two sofas, a folding reading-chair, an upright piano in mahogany case with handsome pianolamp beside it, a carved centre-table on which stood a reading-lamp, cigar case in bronze, photo-albums, bandsome pictures on the walls, in gold ■elegant vases on the mantel, an onyx clock, a full-sized figure of a Moor carved in wood serving as a cardreceiver—in fact every thing about the place was significant of wealth, luxury, and refinement. Could this he the den of a murderer P It seemed rot, unless there might be some powerful hidden motive, which would make a man who was evidently a gentleman, stoop to such a crime. According to Mr Barne’s experience, such a motive must in volve a woman. As yet _there was" no woman in this case, save the woman whom he had just left. All this flashed through fbhe detective’s mind as he noted his surroundings in a few swift glances. Then he heard a voice from the next room say : “ Come in, Mr Barnes ; we must rot stand upon ceremony with one another.” Mr Mitehel was standing in front of a mirror shaving himself, being robed in a silk morning wrapper. “ Pardon this intrusion,” began Mr Barnes. “But you told me I might call at any time, and “ No excuses necessary except from me. But I must finish shaving, you know. A man can’t talk with lathee on one side of his face.” “ Certainly not. Don’t hurry, I can wait.” Thank you. Take a seat. You

will find that arm-chair by the bed comfortable. This is an odd hour to be making one’s toilet, but the fact is I was out late last night.” “At the club, I suppose,” said Mr Barnes, wishing to see if Mr Mitehel would lie to hinj. In this he was disappointed, for the reply was : “ No, I went to the Casino. Lillian Russell, you know, has returned, I had promised a- friend to go, so we went.” “ A gentleman ?” “ Are you not getting inquisitive ? No, not a gentleman, but a lady. In fact that is her picture on that easel ” Mr Barnes looked, and saw an oilpainting representing a marvellously beautiful female head. A brunette of strong emotions and great will power, if her portrait were truthful. Here was a significant fact. Mr Mitehel said that he had been to the Casino with this woman. Wilson claimed that they had gone to the house where the murdered woman lay. It would seem that Mr Mitchel’s friend must live there, and Jthus he had gained access the night before. Did he know that the other also lived there, and did he go into her apartment after leaving his companion ? As this passed through Mr Barnes’s mind, his eyes wandered across the bed. He saw a waistcoat upon which he observed two buttons similar to the one which he had secreted in hi§ pocket. Stealthily he reached his hand toward the bed, but his fingers had scarcely touched the waistcoat, when Mr Mitehel said, without turning from his shaving : “ There is no money in that waistcoat, Mr Barnes,” “ What do you mean to insinuate,” said Mr Barnes angrily, withdrawing his hand quickly. Mr Mitehel paused a moment before replying, deliberately made one or two more sweeps with his razor, then turned and faced the detective. I mean, Mr Barnes, that you forgot that I was looking into a mirror.” “ Your remark indicated that I meant to steal.” “ Did it ? lam sorry. But really you should not adopt a thief’s stealthy methods if you are so sensitive. When I invite a gentleman into my private room, I do not expect to have him fingering my clothing whilst my back is turned.” “ Take care, Mr Mitehel, you are speaking to a detective. If I did stretch my hand towards you clothing it was with no wrong intent and you know it.” “ Certainly I do, and what is more I know just what you were wishing to do. You must not get angered so easily. I should not have used the words which I did, hut to tell you the truth I was piqued.” “ I don’t understand.” “ It hurt my feelings to have you treat me just like a criminal. That you should think I would let you come in here and make whatever examinations you have in your mind, right before my very eyes, wounded my pride. I never should have turned my hack upon you except that I faced a mirror. I told you I knew what you wished to do. It was to examine the buttons of my vest, was it not P Mr Barnes was staggered but did show it. Calmly he said : “As you know it, I overheard your conversation on the train. You spoke of having a set of five curious buttons and- ” “ Pardon me, I said six, not five.” Once more Mr Barnes had failed to trap the man. He suggested five, hoping that Mr Mitchell might claim that to have been the original number, thus eliminating- the lost one. “ Of course, you did say six, now I remember,” he continued, “ and I think you will admit it was not unnatural curiosity which led me to see them, that —that —well I might recognize them again.” “ A very laudable intent. But, my dear Mr Barnes, I have told you that you may call upon me at any time, and ask me any questions you please. Why did you not frankly ask me to show you the buttons P”

“ I should have done so. I do so now.”

“ They are in the vest. You may examine them if you desire it.” Mr Barnes took up the vest, and was puzzled to find six buttons, three of Juliet and three of Romeo. Still he was satisfied, for they were identical with the one in his pocket. It occurred to him that this man who was so careful in his precautions, might have lied as to the number in the set, and have said six when in l reality there were seven. A few questions about the buttons seemed opportune. “ These are very beautiful, Mr Mitchel, and unique too. I have never heard of cameo buttons before. I think you said they were made expressly for you.” Mr Mitchell dropped into a cushioned rocker before he replied : “ These buttons were made for me, and they are exquisite specimens of the graver’s art. Cameo buttons, however, are not so uncommon as you suppose, though they are more usually worn by women, and, in fact, it was a woman’s idea to have these cut. I should not have ” “ By Jove !” said Barnes, “ the Romeo buttons are copies from your likeness, and good portraits too.” “Ah! You have noticed that, have you ?” “Yes, and the Juliets are copies from that picture.” Mr Barnes was getting excited, for if these buttons were portraits, and the one in his pocket was that of the woman whose likeness stood on the easel, it was very evident that they were connected. Mr Mitchel eyed him keenly. “ Mr Barnes, you are disturbed. What is it ”? “ I am not disturbed.” “ You are, and it is the sight of those buttons which has caused it. Now tell me your reason for coming here this morning.” Mr Barnes thought the time had come to strike a decided blow. “ Mr Mitchel, first answer me one question, and think well before you reply. How many buttons were made for this set ?” “ Seven,” answered Mr Mitchel, so promptly that Mr Barnes could only repeat, amazed : ‘. Seven ? But you said six only a moment ago !” “ I know what I said. I never forget any statement that I make, and all my statements are accurate. I said the six is the entire set. Now you ask me what was the original number, and I reply seven. Is that clear ?” “ Then the other button has been lost ?” “ Not at all. I know where it is.” “ Then what do you mean by saying that the set now is only six P” “ Excuse me, Mr Barnes, if I decline to answer that question. I have now replied to several since I asked you why you came here this morning.” “ I will tell you,” said the detective, playing his trump card, as he thought. “ I have been examining the place where your crime was committed, and I have found that seventh button!” If Mr Barnes expected Mr Mitchel to recoil with fear, or tremble, or do anything that an ordinary criminal does when brought face to face with evidence of his guilt, he must have been disappointed. But it is safe to assume that by this time so skilful a man as Mr Barnes did not expect so consummate an actor as Mr Mitchel to betray feeling. He did show some interest, however, for he arose from his chair and, wmlking up to Mr Barnes, he asked simply : “ Have you it with you P May I see it ?” Mr Barnes hesitated a moment, wondering if he risked losing the button by handing it to him. He decided to give it to him, and did so. Mr Mitchel looked at it closely, as though an expert, and after several moments of silence, he tossed it carelessly into the air, catching it as it came down, and then said : “ This would make a pretty situation in a play, Mr Barnes. Follow

me; Detective' discover* crime, and finds carious button. Goes : straight to criminal and boldly tells him of the fact. Criminal admits that he has but six buttons out of seven, and asks to see the button: found.. Detec-: tive:foolishly hands it to him. Then criminal smiles blandly, and says? * Mr Detective, now I have seven buttons, and my set is complete again. What are you going to do about it?'” “And the detective would reply*” said M r Barnes, falling into the humour of the situation: ‘ Mr Criminal, I will lust take that back by force.’ ” “ Exactly. You catch the spirit, of the stage picture. Then, fight between two men, applause from the gallery, and victory for either party, as the author has decided.: This is the way it would be done in a play. But in real life it is different. I simply hand you back your button, thus,” handing button to Mr Barnes, and bowing politely, and then remarked : “Mr Barnes, you are welcome to that. It is not a part of my set!” “Not a part of your set ?” echoed the detective, dumbfounded. “ Not a part of my set. lam sorry to disappoint you, but. so it is. I will even explain, for I sympathise with you. I told you the set was originally seven. So it was, but the seventh button has the head of Shakespeare on it. All seven were given to me by a friend, but as I could -wear but six, I returned to her this odd Shakespeare button, which I had made into a breast-pin, and kept the others, thus reducing the set of buttons to six. The seventh is no longer a button, you see.” “ But how do you account for the fact that this button which I have is plainly a portrait of your friend, and a counterpart to those on your vest p” “ My dear Mr Barnes, I don’t account for it. I don’t have to, you know. That sort of thing is your business.” “ What if I should decide to arrest you at once, and ask a jury to determine whether your original set included this button or not ?” “That would be inconvenient to me, of course. But it is one of those things that we risk every day. I mean arrest by some blundering detective. Pardon me, do not get angry again ; I do not allude to yourself. I am quite sure that you are too shrewd to arrest me.” “ And why so, pray P” “ Because I am surely not going to run away in the first place, and secondly you would gain nothing, since it would be easy for me to prove all that I have told you; and in your mind you are saying that I have not lied to you. Really I have not.” “ I have only one thing more to say to you, Mr Mitchel,” said Mr Barnes, rising “ Will you show me that seventh button or breast-pin ?” “ That is asking a great deal, but 1 will grant your request upon one condition. Think well before you make the bargain. When I made that wager I did not calculate the possibility of entangling in my scandal the name of the woman whom I love dearest on earth. That is the portrait of the woman who will ston become my wife. As I have said, she has the other button and wears it constantly. You will gain nothing by seeing it, for it will simply corroborate my word, which I think you believe now. I will take you to her and she will tell you of these buttons, if you promise me never to annoy her in any way in connection with this affair.” “ I will give you that promise cheerfully. I have no wish to annoy a lady.” “That is for you to decide. Meet me in the lobby at noon precisely, and I will take you to her house. And now will you excuse me whilst I complete my toilet ?” CHAPTER V. THE SEVENTH BUTTON. On the second floor of the apartmenthouse in East Thirtieth street lived Mrs Mortimer Remsen, and her two daughters, Emily and Dora.

Mrs Remsen’s husband had been dead more than ten years, bdt he had amassed a handsome forture, which left his family able to maintain the position in society to which they were licirs by birth and breeding. They lived in the most commodious apartment in the magnificent building in, Thirtieth Street, and were surrounded Tby an elegant luxury which results from a combination of wealth and refined taste. They entertained frequently, and Mrs Remsen, still a handsome woman, was always a conspicuous figure at the most notable social and charitable events of the season.

Emily, the eldest daughter, was a woman of twenty-six, who commanded, rather than attracted, admiration. That she had engaged herself to marry Mr Mitchel had surprised the entire circle within which she moved, and yet perhaps the secret of his success lay in the simple fact that he had had the courage to ask for her, and to do so in a loving but masterful 'way which plainly showed that he anticipated no refusal or coy hesitancy. His wooing had been of the impetuous whirlwind kind, and he was affianced to her within a month of their acquaintance. It Avas this fact which had caused the most comment. Mr Mitchel moved in good society, but he was a new comer, and now that he had captured the prize of the matrimonial market, all were asking “ Who’s he P” a question which none seemed able to answer. He was a Southerner, and that single fact had shed about him a halo of attractive light which had Winded the eyes of those who feebly attempted to look deeper. Dora was her sister’s antithesis, save that both were brunettes. She was simply a loveable, docile, impressionable, pretty girl. She adored her mother, and -worshipped her sister, whom she called “ the Queen” Dora was only seventeen. The two girls were in the sumptuous parlor of their apartment, Emily lying on the sofa lounge, whilst Dora sat near her in a cosy arm chair which made her look almost a little

girl. A servant announced Mr Mitchel, who entered to find both girls seated in the most dignified manner, reading. Walking over to Emily, he stooped and kissed her lightly on the forehead, whispering “My Queen.” Next 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 anight call here. “ You do not mind.” Mr Mitchel presented Mr Barnes 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 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 Eemsen, 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 appreciate I.” “ You may look at it if 3 r ou wish.” Saying which she took it off and handed it to him. It was the fac-simile of those which Mr Mitchel wore rs 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 w r as 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 1 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 mot identical. This one has Shakespeare’s head. The other ones 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 P Perhaps it may interest you ?” “ Why this is extraordinary ! It is one of my set!” “ One of y*urs, why, have you lost one ? How many did you have ?” “ There were seven, including this one of Shakespeare. The other six coloured 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 yon 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 P Had that matchless schemer Mitchel sent her a note warning her to say that there were but seven in the original set P He could not decide at once, but hazarded one more stroke.

“ Miss Eemsen, I have seen your portrait, and it struck me that that button is a cony of it. What do you think ?”

The girl once more became confused, and stammered. “ I don’t know,” then suddenly, and with complete composure again, “ Yes, I think you are right. This is a|copy from my picture. The portrait was made last summer, and afterwards I allowed the artist to exhibit it. I think photographs were made from it, and possibly some cameo cutter has used it for his work.” This was ingenious, but not satis-

factory to Mr Baines. “Mr Barnes,” said Emily, “ you offered just now to give me this, thinking that I had lost it, and as I wnuld really prefer not to have my portrait in the hands of strangers, I accept your gift with thanks.” This was entirely unexpected. When Mr Barnes had made the remark that he would be glad to restore her her own, he had done so feeling safe, because to obtain it she would need to admit that she had lost it. Now it seemed that she had deprived him of his piece of evidence. He did not know’ what to say, wdien Mr Mitchel w r alked across to them and remarked pleasantly : “ Well, Emily, do 3 r ou find my friend Mr Barnes entertaining ?” “ Mr Barnes has been most agreeable, Roy, and see, he has actually given me a present,” saying w’hich she handed the button to Mr Mitchel, across wdiose countenance Mr Barnes thought he saw a fleeting smile of triumph pass. “I am proud of you, Emily. You command homage wherever you extend your influence. Do you know, Mr Barnes’refused to give this cameo to me only this morning. You can guess why I wanted it.” “Because it has my picture copied on it ?”

“ Exactly. Mr Barnes, allow me to add my thanks to those of Miss liernsen. You can readily appreciate why we prefer to have this bauble ha our own possession ?” Mr Barnes thought that he could. He saw that he was fairly caught, and that he could do nothing without making a scene. He met a glance from Mr Mitchel which he knew was meant to remind him of his promise not to annoy Miss Bern sen. He had about decided that he had been a fool

to make such a promise and to have visited the place at all, when he suddenly changed his mind, as a servant announced : “ Mr Alphonso Thauret.” Immediately the detective remembered the name. It was ’upon the card given to him by the Frenchman who had left the train at Stamford, He was watching Mr Mitchel when the new-comer was thus unexpectedly announced, and he thought he detected a glance of displeasure. Were these two men acquainted, accomplices perhaps ? “Ah! Mr Barnes,” said the Frenchman, “ I am delighted to meet you again.” “ Why, do you know Mr Barnes ?” cried Dora, greatly surprised. “ Who does not know Mr Barnes, the celebrated detective.’’ He said this in that extremely polite tone so much assumed by his race, when inclined to be most complimentary. Yet Mr Barnes thought he had some sinister motive in thus proclaiming his connection with the police. Was it to prevent him from calling upon these women again ? If so he failed to make the desired impression on Dora, for that young woman seemed fairly enraptured. “ A detective ?” said she. “ Are you really the great Mr Barnes ?” “ I am a detective, but scarcely a great one.” “ Oh! but you are, you are! I read all about the wonderful way in which you caught that man Pettingill. And now tell me, are you going to catch the man who robbed the wroman on the Boston train yesterday ?” Mr Mitchel had drawn apart, and apparently was absorbed in a converversation with Emily, nevertheless Mr Barnes was confident that he missed little of what was being said by the group of which he himself was one. Under ordinary circumstances he would not for a moment have thought of speaking of so important a case before one who at least might be suspected of complicity. But these were not ordinary circumstances. Here w’ere two men, about both of whom there was a mysterious connection with the crime, or crimes, which he was investigating. If either, or both, w'ere guilty, it was evident, from their courage in visiting unconcernedly at the very building in which the murder had been committed, that extreme skill would be required to obtain a conviction.

“ This is a very interesting case,” said Mr Thauret. “Of course I too have read the papers, but besides that, as you know, Mr Barnes, I was on the train myself, and the first to be searched. I have thought of the case ever since. In my own country we claim that our detectives can unravel any mystery, and I am curious to know how you will manage in an affair of this kind. The thief evidently is clever. Do you think he hid the treasure on the train P”

“ He hid it off the train,” said Mr Barnes, quickly, and to his satisfaction both men started slightly. Evidently Mr Mitchel decided that it was time for him to enter the game, for he crossed and joined the group, saying as he did so : “ Are you all discussing the train robbery P” “ Oh, yes !” said Dora. “ And it’s just lovely, the way Mr Barnes has found out all about it!” “ Found out all about it ? Has he, indeed ?” “ Yes ! He knows who the thief is, and that he hid the jewels off the train.” “ How very clever of. you, Mr Barnes, to discover that. Where else could he have hidden them, since the train and everybody on it was searched ?” It irritated Mr Barnes, the way in which Mr Mitchel always seemed to belittle his skill. He was a trifle angry, therefore, as he made his next bold stroke. “ I will tell you, ladies and gentlemen, where the thief might have hidden the jewels, on the train—a place which no one thought of searching, not even myselff” “Oh! tell us!” exclaimed Dora. The two men looked interested, noth-

ing more. Emily had come behind Mr Mitchel, and slyly slipped her hand within his.

“ The woman carried the jewels in a satchel. 'Suppose the thief had stolen the satchel and thrown it from the window. Missing that, thewoman would have naturally concluded that the jewels were gone r would she not ? Very well. The thief might have hidden the jewels in her own pocket whilst she slept.” Mr Barnes had hoped much from thisproposition, but it was a distinct failure. Either it was nt the thief’smethod, or else Mr Mitchel and Mr Thauret were both innocent. Both smiled incredulously. The formerspoke : “ That is too far-fetched, Mr BarnesHow do you suppose he would regain possession of the gems ?” “By murdering the woman," answered the detective. Once more he failed, for neither of the men winced. Mr Barnes was foiled for the moment, but not entirely discouraged. The start which both men had made, when he suggested that the stolen property had been hidden off the train, still remained to be explained. “ Come 1 Come ! Mr Barnes,” said Mr Mitchel patting his shoulder familiarly, “ don’t let this case upset you so. When you go so far for a theory, you do not show the skill which you displayed in trackingPettingill. Why even I can get you a better one than that,”

“ You must not think me quite a fool, Mr Mitchel. If my theory •aemspreposterous, it does not follow that it is the only one at my command. We detectives must look at these cases in more lights than one, 1 will wager that I can tell you what your theory is F” “ Good ! lam glad New York has such a clever man to defend her. X accept your wager. Here, I will write my idea on a piece of paper.. If you guess it I will owe you am invitation to a good dinner.” Mr Mitchel wrote a few lines on the back of an envelope and handed it toDora.

“You think,” said Mr Barnes, “ that the thief might simply have handed the bag and jewelry to a confederate at a station decided upou in advance.”

“ Bravo ! Mr Barnes,” said Dora, “ You are a great detective. You have won your wager. That is what is written here.”

“I owe you a dinner, Mr Barnes r and it shall be a good one,” said Mir Mitchel. “ Would Mr Barnes like to win another ?” asked the Frenchman with slow distinctness.

“ I would,” said the detectivesharply. “ Then I will wager with you that if you ever clear up the mystery, you will be obliged to admit that none of the theories advanced is the correct one.” “ I cannot accept that bet,” said Mr Barnes, slowty, “ because I am sure that we have not mentioned thetrue method adopted.” “Ah ! You have another theory,” Mr Thauret almost sneered. “ I have, and it is the correct one,” retorted Mr Barnes, “but I pi-efer* not to disclose it.” (To be continued).