An Artist in Crime. Ottolengui Rodrigues

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СКАЧАТЬ friend must live there, and thus he had gained access the night before. Did he know that the other also lived there, and did he go into her apartment after leaving his companion? As this passed through Mr. Barnes's mind his eyes wandered across the bed. He saw a waistcoat upon which he observed two buttons similar to the one which he had secreted in his pocket. Stealthily he reached his hand towards the bed, but his fingers had scarcely touched the waistcoat, when Mr. Mitchel said, without turning from his shaving:

      "There is no money in that waistcoat, Mr. Barnes."

      "What do you mean to insinuate," said Mr. Barnes angrily, withdrawing his hand quickly. Mr. Mitchel paused a moment before replying, deliberately made one or two more sweeps with his razor, then turned and faced the detective.

      "I mean, Mr. Barnes, that you forgot that I was looking into a mirror."

      "Your remark indicated that I meant to steal."

      "Did it? I am sorry. But really you should not adopt a thief's stealthy methods if you are so sensitive. When I invite a gentleman into my private room, I do not expect to have him fingering my clothing whilst my back is turned."

      "Take care, Mr. Mitchel, you are speaking to a detective. If I did stretch my hand towards your clothing it was with no wrong intent and you know it."

      "Certainly I do, and what is more I know just what you were wishing to do. You must not get angered so easily. I should not have used the words which I did, but to tell you the truth I was piqued."

      "I don't understand."

      "It hurt my feelings to have you treat me just like an ordinary criminal. That you should think I would let you come in here and make whatever examinations you have in your mind, right before my very eyes, wounded my pride. I never should have turned my back upon you except that I faced a mirror. I told you I know what you wished to do. It was to examine the buttons on my vest, was it not?"

      Mr. Barnes was staggered but did not show it. Calmly he said:

      "As you know, I overheard your conversation on the train. You spoke of having a set of five curious buttons and – "

      "Pardon me, I said six, not five." Once more Mr. Barnes had failed to trap the man. He suggested five, hoping that Mr. Mitchel might claim that to have been the original number, thus eliminating the lost one.

      "Of course, you did say six, now I remember," he continued, "and I think you will admit it was not unnatural curiosity which led me to wish to see them, that – that – well that I might recognize them again."

      "A very laudable intent. But my dear Mr. Barnes, I have told you that you may call upon me at any time, and ask me any questions you please. Why did you not frankly ask me to show you the buttons?"

      "I should have done so. I do so now."

      "They are in the vest. You may examine them if you desire it."

      Mr. Barnes took up the vest, and was puzzled to find six buttons, three of Juliet and three of Romeo. Still he was satisfied, for they were identical with the one in his pocket. It occurred to him that this man who was so careful in his precautions, might have lied as to the number in the set, and have said six when in reality there were seven. A few questions about the buttons seemed opportune.

      "These are very beautiful, Mr. Mitchel, and unique too. I have never heard of cameo buttons before. I think you said they were made expressly for you."

      Mr. Mitchel dropped into a cushioned rocker before he replied:

      "These buttons were made for me, and they are exquisite specimens of the graver's art. Cameo buttons, however, are not so uncommon as you suppose, though they are more usually worn by women, and, in fact, it was a woman's idea to have these cut. I should not have – "

      "By Jove!" said Mr. Barnes, "the Romeo buttons are copies from your likeness, and good portraits too."

      "Ah! You have noticed that, have you?"

      "Yes, and the Juliets are copies of that picture." Mr. Barnes was getting excited, for if these buttons were portraits, and the one in his pocket was that of the woman whose likeness stood on the easel, it was very evident that they were connected. Mr. Mitchel eyed him keenly.

      "Mr. Barnes, you are disturbed. What is it?"

      "I am not disturbed."

      "You are, and it is the sight of those buttons which has caused it. Now tell me your reason for coming here this morning."

      Mr. Barnes thought the time had come to strike a deciding blow.

      "Mr. Mitchel, first answer one question, and think well before you reply. How many buttons were made for this set?"

      "Seven," answered Mr. Mitchel, so promptly that Mr. Barnes could only repeat, amazed:

      "Seven? But you said six only a moment ago!"

      "I know what I said. I never forget any statement that I make, and all my statements are accurate. I said that six is the entire set. Now you ask me what was the original number, and I reply seven. Is that clear?"

      "Then the other button has been lost?"

      "Not at all. I know where it is."

      "Then what do you mean by saying that the set now is only six?"

      "Excuse me, Mr. Barnes, if I decline to answer that question. I have replied now to several since I asked you why you came here this morning."

      "I will tell you," said the detective, playing his trump card, as he thought. "I have been examining the place where your crime was committed, and I have found that seventh button!" If Mr. Barnes expected Mr. Mitchel to recoil with fear, or tremble, or do anything that an ordinary criminal does when brought face to face with evidence of his guilt, he must have been disappointed. But it is safe to assume that by this time so skillful a man as Mr. Barnes did not expect so consummate an actor as Mr. Mitchel to betray feeling. He did show some interest, however, for he arose from his chair and, walking up to Mr. Barnes, he asked simply:

      "Have you it with you? May I see it?"

      Mr. Barnes hesitated a moment, wondering if he risked losing the button by handing it to him. He decided to give it to him, and did so.

      Mr. Mitchel looked at it closely, as though an expert, and after several moments of silence, he tossed it carelessly into the air, catching it as it came down, and then said:

      "This would make a pretty situation in a play, Mr. Barnes. Follow me. Detective discovers crime, and finds curious button. Goes straight to criminal, and boldly tells him of the fact. Criminal admits that he has but six buttons out of seven, and asks to see the button found. Detective foolishly hands it to him. Then criminal smiles blandly, and says: 'Mr. Detective, now I have seven buttons, and my set is complete again. What are you going to do about it?'"

      "And the detective would reply," said Mr. Barnes, falling into the humor of the situation: "'Mr. Criminal, I will just take that back by force.'"

      "Exactly. You catch the spirit of the stage picture. Then, fight between two men, applause from the gallery, and victory for either party, as the author has decided. That is the way it would be done in a play. But in real life it is different. I simply hand you back your button, thus," handing button to Mr. Barnes, and bowing politely, and then remarked: "Mr. Barnes, you are welcome to that. It is not a part of my set!"

      "Not СКАЧАТЬ