An Artist in Crime

"What makes you think so?"

"Why, you have so many jewels. Do you know I was saying only recently that any one who, like you, would hoard up rare gems, keeping them locked in a vault where no one can see them, is in a way insane. I was glad when you gave that ruby to Miss Remsen, and took it as a symptom of returning lucidity that you should unearth one of your hidden treasures. I have no doubt that you have others like it buried in some corner of your safe. Why not get one out and present it to the lady?"

"You are mistaken, Randolph. I cannot so easily produce a mate to that ruby."

"Why not? Was there anything peculiar about it?"

"Yes, but we will not talk of it."

This curt way of dismissing the subject was a surprise to Mr. Randolph, for, however little Mr. Mitchel cared to show his gems, he had never before been unwilling to embrace any opportunity to talk about them. Mr. Randolph started in a new direction, remembering the hints of the detective.

"Mitchel," said he, "I would almost be willing to wager that you not only can give Miss Remsen as good a ruby, but that you could actually give her the same one."

"I hope to do so," was the quiet reply.

"You don't understand me. I mean that I half believe that your sickness in Philadelphia was all a farce; that you came over, and yourself stole the gem."

"Indeed? And what leads you to such a preposterous deduction?"

"I think that this is your way of endeavoring to win your wager. I think that no one but yourself could have taken the pin from Miss Remsen's hair, as for no one else would she have submitted."

"Randolph, your repeated allusions to Miss Remsen, in this connection, and especially your insinuation that I would ask her to be an accomplice in such a piece of duplicity, and that she would consent, are distasteful to me in the extreme. If you will pardon my saying so, it is a poor entertainment to offer a guest."

"Oh, I meant no offence, old man, I assure you. We will drop the subject of course."

This was followed by a silence. Mr. Randolph was at his wits' end to find a way to force Mr. Mitchel to talk. He felt that nothing had been accomplished. Mr. Barnes, however, thought differently, for he had at last come to a positive conclusion. From Mr. Mitchel's tone of voice and the words of his last speech, the detective felt certain that whatever part Mr. Mitchel himself may have played in the robbery Miss Remsen was innocent. He also wondered whether the conversation would now drift back to the ruby. Perhaps it would not have done so had not Mr. Thauret, who up to this point had scarcely spoken during the progress of the meal, once more broached the subject.

"I beg pardon, Mr. Mitchel," said he, "but your remark just now, that there is something special about the lost ruby, has greatly excited my curiosity. Unless you have some private reason for not doing so, I beg that you will tell us the history of the gem, if it has one."

There was a pause, during which Mr. Mitchel looked at his plate and seemed as though studying a problem. Mr. Randolph was delighted that Mr. Thauret had come to his assistance in this unexpected way, and as he observed Mr. Mitchel's hesitation it seemed to him that there was a contest going on in his mind, between a powerful desire to talk on his hobby, and some prudential whisper that silence would be better. The detective also waited with some anxiety, a piece of a sweetbread on his fork, carried but half-way to his mouth.

"Well, gentlemen," at last said Mr. Mitchel, "I will tell you the story." Mr. Barnes took the tidbit from his fork with a smile that showed his teeth as they bit it incisively. "First join me in a glass," continued Mr. Mitchel; "drink this ruby-colored wine and pledge me that you will not repeat what I say. This only because I do not wish to attain the unenviable reputation of being a romancer, as I certainly should if some reporter should hear and publish the story now, whilst the loss of the gem is fresh in the memory of all."

The pledge was given, and Mr. Mitchel continued.

"That you might better appreciate this stone, I might begin with a dissertation on rubies, explaining to you the difference between the true Oriental gem, which is rare of any magnitude, and the poorer specimens, known as spinels. However, you would only accuse me of ventilating knowledge which has come to me through the study of my hobby. I will come at once to the story of the lost jewel. Just where it was first found is not accurately known, and of its earlier history I can only tell you what has been told to me. You may believe as much or as little as you like. The history then begins with the finding of Moses in the bulrushes, and the subsequent gift to him of this ruby by the daughter of Pharaoh. Thus we hear of it first in the royal house of the Egyptians. There was another gem, the exact counterpart to it. This, Pharaoh had amongst his treasures, and wore upon state occasions. With the exodus of Moses and the Israelites the ruby passed out of Egypt. From that time, for many centuries, its history is not marked by any great event, save that we learn that it was kept by the high priests of the Synagogue and so passed down from generation to generation. One odd fact I must not forget. The deep red color as you know is the most prized. The color of this ruby at the present time is the most perfect in existence. Yet, so the story goes, at first the matched pair of gems were of a pale rose color."

"Do you mean us to believe," interrupted by Mr. Randolph, "that the color has deepened with time?"

"I do not ask you to believe anything. But it is not time that is supposed to have improved the color. With the conquest of Jerusalem this jewel fell into the hands of the Romans, and so in time came into the possession of Cæsar. In his courtship of Cleopatra he soon discovered that extraordinary woman's passion for resplendent jewels, and he was audacious enough to present it to her. Fearing that this might be readily traced to him, when the jewel was missed as it would surely be, he told her secretly of his purpose, and then tied it about the neck of a pigeon, which flew with it directly to the palace of Cleopatra, who awaited the arrival of the bird on the roof-tops. The pigeon, when nearly home, was attacked by a hawk and Cleopatra ordered one of her archers to slay the larger bird with his arrow. This the man attempted, but struck the pigeon, which fell bleeding and dead at the queen's feet. She at once removed the gem, which was covered with blood and dyed with it a rich red."

"But, Mr. Mitchel," said Mr. Thauret, "surely a ruby could not absorb blood?"

"It is the history of the gem." Mr. Mitchel spoke in so odd a tone that one almost thought that, carried away by his love of precious stones, he had imbibed some of the superstition connected with them. He spoke as though he believed the tale. Mr. Barnes began to understand better what Mr. Randolph had meant when he said that perhaps the desire to possess a rare stone might tempt this gentleman to commit a crime. Mr. Mitchel continued:

"I need not follow the story of Cleopatra. It is too well known. But there is an incident that has not been written in the general history of her career. There was an Egyptian priest who was madly in love with her, and in a moment of impulse he dared to tell her of his attachment one day when alone with her. She seemed slightly amused at his ardor, and asked what he, a poor priest, could offer her, who had rich rulers at her feet. In desperation he answered that he could give his life. The Queen laughed and said: 'That is mine already. But you priests claim to be all-wise. Find me the mate to my great ruby, and perhaps I will listen to your love pleadings.' To her intense surprise the man replied: 'That I could do, if I dared. The gem which you have has but returned to its proper place. It was once Pharaoh's. He also had the mate to it, which from him descended through kings to Rameses the Great. It is buried in his coffin.' 'Get it for me,' was the terse reply of Cleopatra, given now as a command rather than a request.

"In fear the priest went into the pyramid and stole the jewel. When he presented it to Cleopatra she cried out at him: 'What fool's trick is this? Do you think this pale stone a match to mine?' The priest explained that hers had been dyed red in the blood of the pigeon. 'Ah, so!' she replied; 'then this one shall be also a richer red. You promised me your life once. I claim it, and in your blood this stone shall be steeped till it matches the other in color.' She carried out her threat, and the two stones were once more mates."

"What an absurdity!" exclaimed Mr. Randolph.

"Do not say so," said Mr. Thauret; "we cannot tell what may happen in this world."

"The next change of owners was when Cleopatra killed herself. One of her handmaidens stole the two rubies, but she herself was taken a slave to Rome and sold. Her purchaser discovered the rubies, took them from her, and then secretly murdered her lest she might tell that he had them. From this time on they have gone by the name of 'The Egyptian Gems.' I need not give you the whole list of robberies and murders that have been connected with the two stones, though I have the written record complete, with names of all the victims. Suffice it to say that for years no one was the gainer by getting possession of them. They have always been impossible to sell, until I bought this one, which is the first time either ever was offered honestly in the market. Before this, each new owner had obtained the jewels either by theft or murder, and dared not admit that he had them. Another curious thing is that no one has ever succeeded in hiding the jewels, so that they could not be found. They have been secreted between the stones of a wall, they have been sewn under the hide of an ass, and hidden in other equally obscure places, yet always the next thief has found and taken them."

"Ah, that is interesting," said Mr. Thauret. "But tell us frankly, since we are pledged not to repeat what we hear, do you suppose there is any power inherent in the stone which attracts persons to their discovery?"

"I cannot say, but that is one of the claims. This seems to be substantiated by recent events too."

"How so?"

"Well, my usual interest in large gems led me to police head-quarters when that woman Rose Mitchel was killed after having been robbed. The jewels you remember had been quickly recovered and are still in the hands of the police. I was allowed to see them, and the ruby in that lot is undoubtedly the mate to mine."

"You think that it was the presence of that stone which led to the discovery by the police of the satchel containing the jewels?"

Mr. Thauret seemed much interested, but Mr. Mitchel merely shrugged his shoulders for answer, though it seemed plain that he did hold that opinion. Mr. Barnes wondered whether Mr. Thauret's interest was due to the fact that, having stolen the jewels, he was astonished to hear of so strange an explanation of their recovery from the hotel where he had hidden them. Yet the man's next words seemed to dispel such an idea. He said:

"You may believe in that sort of thing, Mr. Mitchel, but I, who have only modern ideas, cannot accept any such theory. The fact that the stones have always been discovered when hidden has led those who know the history to mistake a chain of coincidences for evidence of supernatural power within the stones themselves. I think I can readily account for the series of hidings and findings."

"I should be pleased to have you do so," said Mr. Mitchel.

"Have you never read Edgar Poe's tale, the one where a letter is stolen and hidden? The detectives failed to find it, though it was in plain sight all the time, but another man did find it. He went upon the correct theory that the thief, knowing that a search would be made, and guessing that all obscure places would be explored first, would hide it in some commonplace manner. He visited the apartments, and found the letter in the letter-rack. Now this is ingenious, but Mr. Poe here gives us a bit of special pleading and a curious anomaly at the same time. He wished to show that an obscure corner would be a bad hiding-place, and so worked out his result. At the same time he draws a skilful thief who baffled expert police, and yet who hid his letter where the first man with brains easily found it. This is the anomaly. Where the article is small, as is the case with this lost ruby, there is but one safe place for the thief to hide his stolen property."

"And that place is?" asked Mr. Mitchel, himself betraying interest.

"Upon his own person, where at all times he could be on the alert to thwart the searching committee."

"Ah, you are forgetting," said Mr. Mitchel, "that idea was not overlooked by Edgar Poe. In the tale, the man was waylaid by officers in disguise, who bound him and then searched him. If the letter had been about him, it would have been found."

"Not at all. The letter was placed in an envelope, which had been turned, and then mailed so that on the reverse it received the postal imprint. This foiled the detectives when they examined the letter-rack. It would have fooled them in exploring his pockets, if found with other letters similarly addressed. On the other hand, had it been in his pocket, the man who finally obtained it could not have done so by creating a confusion in the street which attracted the man to the window. It would have been difficult for him even to guess that it was in the pocket. Besides, with the ruby it would be simple, since it is an article that can be disposed of at a moment's notice."

"Very true," said Mr. Mitchel, "but – " Here he paused for a moment, and seemed abstracted. Quickly recovering, he said: "What was I saying? I have lost the thread of our conversation."

"Mr. Thauret suggested that the thief could keep the ruby about him," replied Mr. Randolph.

"Ah, exactly. Now I remember. Well, I should say that it would be a hazardous undertaking. I believe had I stolen the gem, as, by the way, Randolph, you suggested, I could do better than that."

"Ah," said Mr. Randolph, "this is getting interesting. Come, tell us; how should you hide the jewel, supposing that you had taken it?"

"That is a leading question," said Mr. Mitchel. "I prefer not to answer it. Walls have ears, you know." He said this in a significant way that made Mr. Randolph uncomfortable for a moment. Mr. Mitchel at once continued: "I will say this, however, that the thief, whoever he is, cannot profit by his theft."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Thauret.

"Because there is not another gem in existence save those two which are so absolutely perfect in color. In fact, they are the standards by which rubies are valued. It is claimed that the expression 'pigeon-blood ruby' owes its existence to the staining of one of these gems in the manner described. Dealers sometimes cut a pigeon's throat to compare the blood with the color of a gem being appraised. The significance of this is, that the stolen gem cannot be sold as it is, because it would be recognized, and I have notified all the great dealers in the world that my 'Egyptian Gem' has been stolen. If it were attempted to have it cut up, the lapidary would at once report the matter, as the reward offered by me is greater than could be earned by recutting the stone."

"Suppose that the thief himself is a gem cutter?" asked Thauret.

"Even then the perfect color would at once tell the first dealer to whom he applied that the 'Egyptian Gem' had been recut."