An Artist in Crime

"Yes," said Mr. Mitchel, smiling, "that explains everything that has perplexed you. Be reconciled for the time you have been made to wait, for you will now not only win the lady, but you will recover this check, for I must pass it over to her as a forfeit. Gentlemen, shall we drink to the health and success of Mr. Randolph?"

This was done in silence. The guests felt a constraint. They knew that more was yet to come and anxiously waited for it.

Mr. Mitchel continued: "Gentlemen, that ends my story, except that I engaged Mr. Barnes to take up the threads of evidence which I gave him, and to disentangle them if he could. Shall we hear his report?"

CHAPTER XVIII.

MR. BARNES'S NARRATIVE

"Gentlemen," began Mr. Barnes, rising, "I am only an ordinary man, following a profession at which some are disposed to sneer, but which to me seems but the plain duty of one who is endowed with the peculiar qualities that are essential to the calling. Our host would make a magnificent detective, but I suppose he feels that he has a higher duty to perform. Begging you then to forgive my manner of addressing you, being by no means a speaker, I will tell you the little that I have done, prefacing my remarks by saying that without the valuable assistance of Mr. Mitchel I should have been powerless.

"There was a curious button which I found in the room where the murder was committed, and which matched a set owned by Mr. Mitchel so closely, that it seemed to me to point to him as one who had a guilty knowledge. I spent much time following the clues that turned up in that connection, all of which however was not entirely misspent, for I discovered the true name of the dead woman to be Rose Montalbon, and that aided me greatly in my later work. At last, then, I abandoned the idea that Mr. Mitchel was guilty and frankly admitted this. He then told me the name of the jewelry firm from which the buttons had been ordered, and I went across the Atlantic.

"The button which I had was imperfect. This was my starting-point. Through letters of introduction which Mr. Mitchel gave me, I succeeded in obtaining the assistance of the jewellers. They gave me the name of the man who had carved the cameos for them, but they knew nothing of the imperfect button. They had also lost track of the cameo-cutter. It took me over a month to trace that man, even with the aid of the Paris police. Finally I found him, and he told me that he had sold the button to a friend. This friend I found after some delay, and he admitted that he had once had the button, but that he had given it to a woman. More time was lost in discovering this woman, but when I did she too recognized the button and said that it had been stolen from her by another woman, whom she described as a Creole. Thus at last I got on the track of the Montalbon, for that was the name which she used in France. Under this name it was easier to follow her. I soon learned that she had a companion, by the name of Jean Molitaire. I then easily found that Molitaire had been in the employ of the Paris jewellers as shipping-clerk. It was he who had written the two descriptions of the jewels, one of which I found among the woman's effects, and the other in Mr. Mitchel's possession. This was a suspicious circumstance, but we know now how it was that the handwriting matched, a fact which had puzzled me greatly. It seems that Mr. Mitchel at one time had bought some valuable papers from the Montalbon woman, paying her with diamonds, and recommending her to his Paris jewellers to dispose of them."

"That," said Mr. Mitchel, "was partly to get her out of this country, and partly to recover the diamonds, which I did, through the dealer."

"So he told me. It was when she received the money from them that she noticed Molitaire. It was not long after that the second set of jewels were sold to Mr. Mitchel. This clerk of course knew of the transaction, because he packed them for shipment. Then he must have persuaded the woman to accompany him across the Atlantic, with the design of stealing the gems from Mr. Mitchel, as soon as he should take them from the custom-house. This is seen from the fact that three days after the shipment this man resigned his position, and from that time all trace of both the man and the woman in Paris is lost."

"From which you deduce that they followed the jewels?" said Mr. Mitchel.

"Of course. The man and woman separated here to avoid suspicion. By a trick the woman obtained possession of apartments in the very house where your intended lived, whilst Molitaire stopped at the Hoffman, which of course is very near your own hotel. As soon as you went to Boston they followed and registered at the same hotel. You obtained the jewels from the custom-house, and they entered your room and robbed you during your absence. Your theory of the murderer's actions after the jewels were recovered by you, is probably correct. He went back to hunt for them, hoping that she had not placed them in the satchel, or rather that she had taken them out of it, since you yourself placed them there. I think there is no point left unexplained."

"Pardon me," said Mr. Thauret, "I think you are wrong. You have not to my mind quite connected this man – what did you call him? Jean Molitaire, was it not? Well, I do not see that you have traced his hand to the crime."

"I think that I have," said Mr. Barnes.

"You do not make it clear to me," said Mr. Thauret, as coolly as though discussing some question in which he had but a passing interest. "You say that your Montalbon woman noticed this Molitaire when she sold her diamonds. Later that both were missing from Paris. The woman turned up in New York, but how do you prove that Molitaire did not go to – let us say Russia?"

"No," said Mr. Barnes, "he did not go to Russia. Suppose that I should tell you that I ferreted out the fact that this name Molitaire was but an alias, and that the man's true name was Montalbon? Then when we remember that the woman's name had been cut from all her garments is that not significant?"

This speech made a mild sensation, but Mr. Thauret remained unmoved. He replied calmly:

"All things are significant – how do you interpret this fact, supposing that you could prove it?"

"This Molitaire was really the dead woman's husband. They quarrelled many years ago, and she went to New Orleans where she kept a gambling-house, having learned the trade from him. When they met again in Paris she recognized him. Then when the fellow conceived the idea of following the jewels, it suited his purpose to affect a reconciliation so that he might use the woman as a tool. After the murder it would be to his interest to hide the name of Montalbon by cutting out the marks on the woman's clothing."

"Pardon my pursuing the argument," said Mr. Thauret, "but I find it entertaining. You surprise me, Mr. Barnes, at the ready way in which you read men's actions. Only, are you sure you are right? Suppose for instance that the woman had cut out the marks herself long before, at some time, when she was using an alias, then your fact would lose some of its significance, would it not? Circumstantial evidence is so difficult to read, you see! Then having lost that link, where do you prove Molitaire or Montalbon guilty? Being the woman's husband is no crime in itself."

"No," said Mr. Barnes, deciding that the time had come for an end of the controversy. "Being the woman's husband does not count in itself. But when I procure in Paris the photograph of Molitaire, left by accident in his room at his lodgings, and when I recognize that as the same man whom Mr. Mitchel suspected and trapped into stealing the ruby; and when upon my return to New York, I find that ruby upon that very man, and recover it, then we have some facts that do count."

"You recovered the ruby?" said Mr. Mitchel, amazed.

"Here it is," said Mr. Barnes, handing it to Mr. Mitchel. Mr. Thauret bit his lip, and by a strong endeavor retained his self-control.

"Mr. Barnes," said Mr. Mitchel, "I am sorry to disappoint you, but this is not my ruby."

"Are you sure?" asked the detective, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, though you deserve credit, for, though not the ruby, it is the stolen stone. I have a complete set of duplicates of my jewels, and in making my little experiment I did not care to bait my trap with so valuable a gem. I therefore used the duplicate, which is this. But how have you recovered it?"

"I have been in New York for several days. I have devoted myself during that time to a personal watch upon Montalbon. Yesterday, to my surprise, he went to Police Head-quarters and begged for a permit to inspect the stolen jewels, saying that through them he might throw some light upon the mystery. His request was granted. Suspecting treachery I subsequently obtained a similar permit, and investigation with the aid of an expert showed that the bold scoundrel had handled the jewels, and so managed to change the imitation stone which he stole at the festival for the real one in the set which figured in the train robbery."

"By Jove," said Mr. Mitchel, "he is an artist. Then I am indebted to you after all for recovering the stone, but tell us, how did you accomplish it?"

"I overheard Montalbon once say that a wise thief would keep a stolen article upon his person so that it could not be discovered without his knowledge. Therefore I felt certain that he would himself adopt this method. When the conversation this evening reached a point where it was evident that all would be disclosed, the man, who is present, dropped the ruby into his glass of Burgundy, where it would be out of sight and easily recovered, or swallowed. Later he attempted to dispose of it in this way, but I quickly drank his glass of wine, the ruby thus passing into my mouth. And now Mr. Montalbon, I arrest you in the name of the law," saying which, the detective put his hand upon Mr. Thauret's arm. The other guests jumped up, excited and expecting a scene. To the astonishment of all, Thauret remained quiet for a few moments, and then speaking slowly and distinctly, said:

"Gentlemen, we have heard several stories here to-night, will you listen to mine, and suspend judgment for a few moments?"

"We will hear you," said Mr. Mitchel, marvelling at the man's nerve. The others resumed their seats, all except the detective, who stood just back of his prisoner.

"I will trouble you to fill my glass," said Thauret to the waiter, and after being served, he coolly sipped a mouthful.

"I shall not bore you with a lengthy recital," he began, "I shall simply make a statement. Society, the civilized society of to-day, frowns upon and punishes what it terms 'the criminal class.' Yet how many have ever examined into the existing state of things, and analyzed the causes which make the criminal a possibility? The life of such a man is not so inviting that one would adopt it from choice, one I mean who had moral instincts. With the naturally immoral it would be otherwise, of course. But if one be born immoral, who is to blame? The individual himself, or the antecedents, including both parentage and circumstances? We pity the man who is congenitally tainted with disease, and we condemn that other man who is tainted in morals, though his condition is analogous and traceable to similar causes. Such a man I am. I confess that I am, and always have been a criminal, at least in the sense of acquiring money by what are termed illegitimate methods. But you will say, Mr. Barnes," turning for a moment to the detective, and thus whilst speaking to him, attracting his attention, so that unnoticed he dropped a small white pellet into his glass of wine, "that I worked for the jewelry house. Well, whatever I am, I have aimed to be artistic, as Mr. Mitchel admitted of me a few moments ago. By seeming to earn an honest living, I blinded the keen eyes of the Paris police, so that though many suspicions have been cast in my direction, conviction has always been impossible. So now, whilst pretending to explain to you all, I have explained nothing. I simply designed to prevent conviction of the crimes charged against me, as I do, thus."

With a swift movement he drained his wine-glass, though Mr. Barnes attempted to prevent him. In ten minutes he was dead.

THE END