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An Artist In Crime

An Artist In Crime image
Parent Issue
Day
1
Month
May
Year
1899
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

AN ARTIST IN CRIME. BY RODRIGUES OTTOLENGUI

[Copyright, 1895, by G. P. Putnam's Sons.]

"Well, what of it?"

"I did not suppose that you would go so far."

"So far as what?"

"Why, haven't you read the papers?"

"No; I never do. I am above that class of literature."

"Then, with your permission, I will read one to you."

"Go ahead; I am all attention." Mr. Mitchel seated himself in his most comfortable armchair, and Mr. Randolph, without removing his overcoat, sat in another. Taking a morning paper from his pocket he read the following:

"The inquest upon the body of the mysterious woman found murdered in the Thirtieth street apartment house was resumed yesterday at the coroner's office. Mr. Barues, the well known detective, testified that he had been upon the Boston express at the time of the robbery of the jewels; that he had an interview with the woman at which she gave the name Rose Mitchel and made an appointment with him at her residence. He called at the time agreed upon - 9 o'clock on the morning of the 3rd - and discovered her lying in bed with her throat cut. One singular fact brought out by the detective's testimony is that the woman's name had been deliberately cut from every garment. This may indicate that Rose Mitchel is an assumed name.

"The doctors who performed the autopsy declare it as their opinion that the woman was attacked while she slept. Otherwise there would have been more blood stains found, as the jugular vein and carotid artery were both cut. They think that the assassin used an ordinary pocketknife, because the wound, though deep, is not very large.

"A curious story was obtained from the janitor. The woman Mitchel had been in the house about three weeks. She was not a tenant, but occupied the apartments of Mr. and Mrs. Comstock, who are absent in Europe. The woman gave him a letter purporting to be written by Mrs. Comstock, instructing the janitor to allow the bearer to occupy the apartment until suited elsewhere, and also asking that the janitor's wife would see that she had proper attendance. The janitor did not doubt the authenticity of the letter, but it now appears from the testimony of a relative of the Comstocks, who is well acquainted with Mrs. Comstock's writing, that this letter is a forgery.

"After a little further evidence of no special importance the inquest was adjourned until today. It is plain that the detectives are all at sea in this case. A startling piece of evidence has now been obtained by a reporter which may serve as a clew. It is no less than the discovery of the lost jewels. It will be remembered that Mr. Barnes was on the train and ordered that the passengers should be searched. Nothing was found, from which it seemed safe to presume that there were two persons connected with the theft. One of these secured the plunder and handed it through a window of the car to his accomplice outside. A reporter went over the route yesterday, beginning his investigation in New Haven. He went the rounds of the hotels, endeavoring to discover if any suspicious person had been noticed in the city. At one of the last which he visited, which is about live minutes' walk from the railroad depot, the clerk remembered a man who did act strangely. It seems that this man came into the hotel at about noon on the 3d, registered, asked that his satchel should be placed in the safe, went out and has not returned since. The reporter at once guessed that this was the missing satchel, and, so stating, the chief of police was sent for, and in his presence it was opened. In it was found a red Russia leather case containing unset jewels of such size and luster that one can well believe that they are worth $100,000, as claimed. That these are the missing gems is plainly indicated by the fact that the jewel case has the name of Mitchel stamped upon it. Unfortunately there was nothing about the satchel or in it which gives any clew to the thief himself. The clerk, however, remembers him distinctly, and from his description the detectives hope soon to have him under lock and key. "

"What have you to say to that, Mitchel?"

"Why, it is just that kind of thing that made me give up reading the newspapers - a sensational description of a mysterious robbery and murder. Yet if one reads the papers he must submit to that almost every day. "

"Do you mean that this particular case has no interest to you?"

"Why should it interest me? Because I happened to be on the train and was compelled to submit to being searched by an order from a blundering detective?"

"There is more reason than that for attracting attention. Any man with a grain of sense and with the knowledge of your wager must see your hand in this."

"In which, the robbery or the murder?"

''My God, I don't know. You and I have been the best of friends ever since we first met. I have stood by you and believed in you in spite of all that your enemies have said against you. But now"--

"Well?"

"Well, I don't know what to think. You bet me that you would commit a crime. In a few hours there is a robbery, and a little later a woman is killed in the very house where the Remsens lived. It is known - there is another account in another paper here - it is known that you were in that house for an hour after 11:30 at night and that while you were there a woman was heard to scream from that apartment where the corpse was found. Then here they find the jewels, and the case had your name on it."

"The woman's name, you mean. The paper made that deduction, I think."

"That is true. I did not think of that. Of course it was her name, but don't you see I am all muddled up and excited? I came here to ask you to say outright that you have had nothing to do with this thing."

"That is impossible."

"What, you refuse? You will not claim that you are innocent? Then you practically admit that you are guilty?"

"I do not. I neither deny nor admit anything. Do you remember our wager? I told you then that this crisis would arise - that you would hear of some crime and come to ask me about it. I warned you that I would refuse to enlighten you. I simply keep my word. "

This was followed by a silence. Mr. Randolph seemed much disturbed. Jamming his hands into his pockets he went and looked out of the window. Mr. Mitchel looked at him for some minutes with a smile of amusement hovering about his lips. Suddenly he said:

"Randolph, does your conscience trouble you?"

"Most decidedly!" answered his companion sharply, turning toward him.

"Why not go and unburden your soul to the police?"

"I think it is my duty to do so. But I feel like a coward at the idea. It seems like betraying a friend."

"Ah, you still count me your friend Then, my dear friend - for I assure you I value your good will - I will show you how to act so as to satisfy your conscience and yet not injure me."

"I wish to heaven you would!"

"Nothing easier. Go to Mr. Barnes and make a clean breast of all that you know."

"But that is betraying you to the police."

"No; Mr. Barnes is not the police. He is only a private detective. If you remember, he is the very one about whom we were talking when the wager was made. You were boasting of his skill. It should satisfy you then to have him on my track, and it will satisfy me if you agree to talk with no other. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes, since you are willing. I must tell some one in authority. It is impossible for me to withhold what may be the means of detecting a criminal."

Mr. Randolph, upon leaving the hotel, went in search of Mr. Barnes. Meanwhile that gentleman was holding a conversation with Wilson.

"You say," said the detective, "that Mr. Mitchel gave you the slip again yesterday afternoon?"

"Yes; be doubled so often on his tracks ou the elevated road that at last he eluded me, getting on a train which I failed to board. You see, it was impossible to tell, till the moment of starting, whether he would take a train or not. He would mix with the crowd and seem anxious to get on, and then at the last moment step back. I had to imítate him at the other end of the coach, and finally he got on just as the guard at my end slammed the gates."

"This was at Forty-second Street?"

"Yes; he took the down train."

"Did he notice you in any way?"

"I suppose so, but no one would have guessed it. He appeared entirely ignorant of the fact that he was followed, so far as watching me was concerned. "

"You are not to blame. Go back to his hotel and do the best you can. Leave the rest to me. I will discover where it is he goes on these mysterious trips."

Left to himself Mr. Barnes' thoughts took this form:

"Wilson is no match for Mr. Mitchel. That is evident. I wonder whether there is any real object in this game of hide and seek, or whether it is simply an intimation to me that he cannot be shadowed. If the latter - well, we shall see. Now let me think about those jewels found in New Haven. They tally exactly with the description. Their discovery complicates the case once more. I had almost concluded that those in the safety vaults were the ones stolen and that as they really belong to Mr. Mitchel, as proved by his receipts, he stole them to win his wager. In this way he ran no risk, since, if the crime were brought home to him, he could not be imprisoned, though he would lose the bet. Now here is another set, evidently the right ones. Mr. Mitchel was plainly surprised at sight of the list which I found. I am sure he did not know of its existence. Therefore he may equally well have known nothing about this duplicate set of jewels. In that case the occurrence of the train robbery on the very right of the wager may be simply a coincidence. He says that the dead woman was a blackmailer and that he gave her the address of his Paris jeweler. May he not have bought his set from that very man and may not this woman have stolen the duplicate set recently and brought them to this country? Plainly the Paris jeweler must be looked up. I have his name, which I copied from the bill of sale. If this line of argument is true, some one has followed this woman from France in order to rob her, after allowing her to accomplish the risky business of smuggling. Is that person our friend Thauret? Along this line of argument we arrive at the conclusion that Mr. Mitchel has not yet committed his crime. He hinted that I should remember this if I should exculpate him from those already committed. But do I? Why did he show me that ruby and say that he meant to present it to his sweetheart? Will he give it to her and then rob her of it? If so, will she be in the plot and make a hue and cry, so that the papers may make a noise? That was a part of the agreement in making his bet. But, after all, what about that button? No explanation explains which does not throw a light upon that. "

Here Mr. Barnes was interrupted by the announcement that Mr. Randolph wished to speak with him. It must be remembered that Mr. Randolph was not aware of the fact that the conversation in the sleeping car had been overheard. Brought face to face with Mr. Barnes, he felt confused and hesitated.

"Mr. Randolph, I believe," said the detective, glancing at the card which had been sent in. "Be seated. You have come to see me about this Mitchel case?" The rising inflection with which the last word was spoken seemed almost unnecessary to Mr. Randolph. For if the man could ask such a question he might as well have made it a positive statement. This assumption of knowledge made him more than ever confident of the skill of detectives, and especially of the one before him.

"You know that?" said he. "Would you mind telling me how?"

"We detectives are supposed to know everything, are we not?" This was said with an affable smile, but the answer plainly indicated that Mr. Barnes preferred not to be interrogated. Mr. Randolph therefore concluded to hurry through with his unpleasant business.

"Mr. Barnes, I have a confession to make, and"--

"I must interrupt you, to remind you that whatever you say is unsolicited, and that if you incriminate yourself the evidence will be used against you. "

"Thank you for your warning, but I have come here that I may not be incriminated. The facts, in brief, are simply these." Then he narrated as accurately as he could recall them all the circumstances in connection with the wager. Mr. Barnes listened as though it was all a new story to him. He even jotted down a few notes on a bit of paper as though for reference. At the conclusion he said:

"This is a most astounding tale, Mr. Randolph. It is very difficult to believe that a man like Mr. Mitchel, who certainly seems to be a gentleman, would undertake to become a criminal simply to win a sum of money. Now you must have been thinking this over, and, if so, you have some explanation to offer. Would you mind telling it to me?"

"I should be glad to do so." Mr. Randolph spoke eagerly. In his heart he was fond of his friend, and therefore his theory was one which in a measure would excuse him. He was delighted to have the chance of confiding his views to the detective. "You see," he continued, "it is one of the most difficult things in the world to say who is and who is not perfectly sane. Some experts contend that nine-tenths of the people in the world are affected by mania in some form or other. I hold that any man who makes a collection of any kind of things, using them for other than their legitimate uses, is in a measure insane. "

"Do you mean legally insane? That is to say, irresponsible?"

"As to responsibly, I cannot say. But I think such a mania might tempt a man to an illegal act. I must explain my idea further. Postage stamps undoubtedly have a very important value. One who collects them after they have been canceled, paying many times their face value for them, is in my opinion somewhat crazy, since he pays a fictitious price for what has no intrinsic value."

"You might say the same thing of paintings. The intrinsic value represented in canvas and oil is little, yet thousands of dollars are paid for pictures."

(To be continued.)