An Artist In Crime

AN ARTIST IN CRIME

by Rodrigues Ottolengui

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

"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 jewelers. 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, of the name of Jean Molitaire. I then easily found that Molitaire had been in the employ of the Paris jewelers 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 jewelers 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, while 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 quarreled 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 effect 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 headquarters 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 Moutalbon 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 tonight. Will you listen to mine and suspend judgment for a few moments?" 

"We will hear you," said Mr. Mitchel, marveling 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.

-------------------------------------

How Andersonville Looks.

A recent visitor to Andersonville, where the union soldiers were imprisoned thirty-five years ago, says that the earthworks and stockade are still preserved, and that the wells dug by the prisoners are in as good condition as if they had just been completed. "Providence spring," so named because it seemed to have suddenly burst from the ground just at the time when the soldiers were suffering for water, is still the same, having kept up a constant flow of pure, clear water ever since.

-------------------------------------

Dogs to Carry Mails.

The Canadian government has purchased 140 Esquimo dogs for shipment to the Klondike region, where the canines will be used to carry the mails. The animals were imported from Greenland and Labrador at a cost of $30 each, and were selected for their superiority in speed, training and weight.