An Artist in Crime

"Emily, my Queen," said Mr. Mitchel, taking one of her hands caressingly within both of his, as they sat upon a tête-à-tête sofa, "I almost believe that I am dreaming when I think that you love me."

"Why so, Roy?"

"Listen, little woman. I am in an odd mood to-night, and I wish very much to talk to you. May I?"

For answer she touched him lightly, lovingly, on the face with her disengaged hand, and bowed assent.

"Then listen while I make my confession. I am different from other men, much as I count you different from all women. I have met many, in all the capitals of Europe, and here in my own country. I have never been affected by any, as I was by you. In the first instant of meeting you, I had chosen you for my wife. When I asked for you, I had not the least idea that you would refuse, until having spoken, I saw the bold audacity of my words, and for half an instant the idea lived with me that I was too presumptuous."

"You were not, my Roy. Like you I have passed lovers by, as unaffected as by the ocean breezes. When I met you, I said to myself: 'This is my master.'"

"God bless you, Emily. Let me continue. I have chosen you to be my wife. As heaven is my witness, I shall never deceive you in aught. But, – and this is the hard test which your love must endure – I may be compelled at times to keep you in ignorance of some things. Do you think that your love is great enough to believe that when I do so it is from love of you, that I keep a secret from you?"

"Roy, perhaps this is conceit, but if so, still I say it. A weaker love than mine would say to you, 'I trust you, but I love you so that you need not hesitate to share your secrets with me.' I tell you that I trust you implicitly. That I am content to hear your secrets or not, as your own judgment and love for me shall decide."

"I knew that you would speak so. Had you said less I should have been disappointed. I will tell you then at once, that there is a secret in my life which I have shared with no one, and which I am not willing yet to reveal to you. Are you still content?"

"Do you doubt it? Do you think that I would make an assertion only to draw back from my boast as soon as tried?"

"No, my Queen, but it is asking much to ask a woman to marry whilst there is a secret which cannot be told. Especially when there are those who may believe that there is shame or worse, concealed."

"No one would dare to so misjudge you!"

"Indeed, but you are mistaken. There are those who do not count me as irreproachable as I may seem to you. What if I were to tell you that a detective watches me day and night?"

"Oho? That would not frighten me. You have explained all about your wager. I suppose Mr. Barnes is keeping an eye on you. Is that it?"

"Partly that, and partly because he thinks that I am connected with this murdered woman. To a certain extent he is right."

"You mean that you knew her?"

"Yes." Mr. Mitchel paused to see whether she would ask another question after his admission. But she meant all that she had said when asserting that she trusted him. She remained silent. Mr. Mitchel continued: "Naturally Mr. Barnes is desirous of learning how much I know. There are urgent reasons why I do not wish him to do so. You have it in your power to aid me."

"I will do so!"

"You have not heard what it is that I wish."

"I do not care what it is. I will do it if you ask me."

"You are worthy of my love." He drew her gently towards him, and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I say it not in egotism, for I love you as much as man may. Were you unworthy – I should never love again."

"You may trust me, Roy." Her words were simple, but there was a passion of truth contained in their utterance.

"I will tell you at once, what I wish. For it must be done promptly. You must be ready – Who is that?"

Mr. Mitchel spoke the last two words in a sharp tone, rising from his seat and taking a step forward. The large room was but dimly lighted, the gas having been lowered to please Emily who abhorred well-lighted rooms. At the further end some one was standing, and had attracted Mr. Mitchel's attention. It was Lucette, and she replied at once:

"Your mother sent me to know if you are ready for supper, Miss Emily."

"Say that we will be in, in a few minutes," replied Emily, and Lucette left the room.

"Who is that girl?" asked Mr. Mitchel.

Emily explained how the new maid had been engaged and Mr. Mitchel speaking in a tone louder than was really necessary, said:

"She seems to be a quiet, good girl. Rather too quiet, for she startled me coming in so noiselessly. Shall we go in? What I have to tell you will keep. It is something I wish you to do for me the day after to-morrow."

After supper Mr. Mitchel took the two girls and their mother to the theatre, much to the delight of the latter, who was always shocked whenever Emily went unattended by a chaperone. The party walked going and coming, and as Dora and her mother were ahead, Mr. Mitchel had ample opportunity to explain to his fiancée the favor which he wished her to do for him. When leaving the house that night he said:

"You will not see me again for a couple of days. Keep well till then."

Lucette, who had overheard this remark, was, therefore, rather astonished to see Mr. Mitchel walk in the next morning as early as ten o'clock. She was still more surprised to have her mistress announce that she was going out. What puzzled her most of all was that Emily went out alone, leaving Mr. Mitchel in the parlor. In fact this seemed to give her so much food for reflection, that as though struck by the conclusions arrived at, she herself prepared to go out. As she was passing along the hall, however, the parlor door opened and Mr. Mitchel confronted her.

"Where are you going, Lucette?"

"I have an errand to do, sir," she replied with a slight tremor.

"Come into the parlor, first. I wish to speak to you." She felt compelled to obey, and walked into the room, Mr. Mitchel opening the door and waiting for her to pass through. He then followed, after closing the door behind him, locking it and taking the key from the lock.

"Why did you do that?" asked Lucette angrily.

"You forget yourself, Lucette. You are a servant, and good servants such as you have proven that you know how to be, never ask questions. However, I will answer you. I locked the door because I do not wish you to get out of this room."

"I won't be locked in here with you. I am a respectable girl."

"No one doubts it. You need not get excited, I am not going to hurt you in any way."

"Then why have you brought me in here?"

"Simply to keep you here till – well, say till twelve o'clock. That is about two hours. Do you mind?"

"Yes, I do mind. I won't be kept in here alone with you for two hours."

"You amuse me. How will you prevent it?"

Lucette bit her lip, but said nothing. She saw that there was no help for her. She might scream, of course, but Mrs. Remsen and Dora had gone out before Emily. She and Mr. Mitchel were alone in the apartment. She might attract the attention of the janitor, or of people in the street. As this idea occurred to her she glanced toward the window. Mr. Mitchel divined her thoughts in a moment.

"Don't try screaming, Lucette," said he, "for if you do, I will be compelled to gag you. You will find that very uncomfortable for two hours."

"Will you tell me why you wish to keep me here?"

"I thought I did tell you. The fact is, I do not wish you to do that little errand of yours."

"I don't understand you."

"Oh, yes, you do. You are not such a fool as all that. Now, my girl, you may as well bow to the inevitable. Make yourself comfortable till twelve. Read the paper, if you wish. There is an interesting account of the murder case. The woman, you know, who was killed in the flat upstairs. Have you followed it?"

"No, I have not," she replied, snappishly.