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CHAPTER XVI.
MR. BARNES DISCOVERS A VALUABLE CLUE

Immediately after the wedding Mr. Mitchel and his bride started west, intending to spend their honeymoon in the Yosemite Valley, having promised Mrs. Remsen and Dora, however, to join them in the White Mountains before the end of the season. About the first of July the Remsens and the Van Rawlstons went to Jefferson, New Hampshire, a small town along the base of the Pliny Range of mountains, from which a magnificent view of the Presidential Range, only ten miles away, is to be obtained. About the middle of the month Mr. Randolph determined to visit the same place, and was intensely disgusted on alighting from the stage, which reaches the Waumbeck Hotel about eight o'clock at night, to be greeted familiarly by Mr. Alphonse Thauret. It was evident that his rival did not intend to lose any chance to win the hand of Dora Remsen.

If one has anything of the artistic in his nature he could scarcely fail to enjoy himself at Jefferson. The town is practically a single road, well up the side of the mountain range. Thus the hotels all look out over a long and beautiful valley. From the piazza of the Waumbeck, on a clear day, no less than thirty-five mountain peaks can be easily counted, the Green Mountains over in Vermont being visible as a distant line of blue, and not in the total.

Of course the most conspicuous and most admired peak is Mount Washington. One who has not visited the region might suppose that he would soon become sated with the sight of the same mountains day after day. This is a great error. All the mountains, and especially Mount Washington, are ever presenting new aspects. All changes of atmosphere produce corresponding variations. The shadows of passing clouds, the effects at sunrise or at sunset, the moonlight, the partly cloudy weather when the top of the mountain is hidden, the mists, and the rain, all offer such totally different coloring and picturesque effects that the artistic eye is never tired.

Dora was an artist in every fibre of her being, as one would know who listened to her talking to Mr. Randolph half an hour after his arrival, as they sat together on the piazza. In his delight to be with her and to hear her, he would have forgotten the very existence of Mr. Thauret were it not that he sat near them in the rotunda at the end of the piazza, and so shared the entertainment that she offered.

"What a pity," she was saying, "that you did not come up yesterday. You have missed the grandest sights that mortal ever beheld. I suppose on your trip up you saw nothing beautiful in the rain-storm that we had this afternoon?"

"Nothing whatever," said Mr. Randolph. "However it may have been here among the mountains, the rain did not make the valleys more attractive. Indeed I thought it simply a beastly day."

"What a mistake that you were not here instead of in the horrid cars. Why, I tell you that I haven't words with which to describe the magnificent pictures that I have enjoyed. Yet I am about to try. You must not lose it all, you know. May I tell you about it?"

"Assuredly; I shall be delighted."

"Well, then, to begin; look out over the valley. What do you see?"

"The moonlight shedding a beautiful ray over the lake."

"Exactly," said Dora, laughing heartily. "That is just the funny mistake I thought you would make. That is not a lake at all. It is mist, or clouds rather. In the morning if I had not told you, you would have been astonished to find that your lake is all trees and meadows. To begin, then; about four o'clock it began to cloud up. That was very interesting. The sun was shining brightly here, but we could see that it was raining hard over in the direction of Lancaster. Slowly it began to come toward us. Some of the boys made wagers as to how soon it would rain here. Then one of the proprietors came out, and surprised us all by saying that it would probably rain over on the Presidential Range before it did here. This seemed extraordinary to us, you know, because why should it skip right over us and go to the big mountains?"

"Well, did it? It does seem impossible."

"That is exactly what occurred. You see, it is like this: Whenever a storm comes from Lancaster way, the clouds when they get here are divided by the Pliny Range, and pass on either side, leaving us dry. Then they strike against the sides of the Presidential Range, and roll back into our valley. It was a curious sight, I assure you, to see the clouds flying in exactly opposite directions."

"Well, but after all, there could not have been any great beauty in the rain. It must have blotted out all the view."

"Yes, but think how odd it was to find all these tremendous peaks suddenly gone. Not a mountain in sight in any direction. But then, the thunder. Oh! that was grand. The way it rolls about and reverberates gives one a good idea of a great battle. There was something afterwards that carried out this similarity, too, which I wish I could describe. It was after the storm had passed and the bright-setting sun shone forth. Try to see the picture. Imagine yourself sitting just where I am now, and looking toward the Presidential Range, the sun setting red behind us. Mount Washington had shaken the clouds from his head, and was encircled by a gorgeous halo, in the form of a brilliant double rainbow. One end of it seemed to come up right out of the valley there, whilst the other disappeared behind Starr King Mountain. The flying clouds, still black and heavy, whirled swiftly along, hanging low, and, with the sun approaching the horizon, made shifting shadows across the base of Mount Washington, whilst between the rifts the red rays of the sun striking different parts made beauteous timings among the green and the brown of trees and rock. Oh, if an artist could only have seen that. But then it would have been useless, for the hand of man could not paint such grandeur. It was in the foreground that the resemblance to the battle-field was to be seen again. Every here and there stray bits of clouds disentangled themselves from the treetops and rose up smoke-like till one could imagine them to be from thousands of camp-fires. Oh! it was simply wonderful."

"It was indeed," said Mr. Thauret; "and your description brings it all back again to me."

"Then the beautiful long twilight," Dora continued, almost unheeding, "that was lovely. Slowly these stray bits of mist met and joined others, till as the darkness came and the moon brightened, that beautiful sheet of water, for after all your lake is real water, accumulated, and there it is. At least you can enjoy that."

He did. But what he enjoyed more was the simple happiness of being with her. After a short time, however, he was deprived of that, for Mrs. Remsen claimed his attention, and took him up to the ball-room to introduce him to some of the many young women who were dancing with each other and with boys of fourteen for want of better partners.

If Mr. Thauret annoyed Mr. Randolph by being at this resort, the former gentleman was none the more pleased at his arrival. Being left alone with Dora, and construing her present mood to be one favorable to his wooing, he determined to speak to her before the other man might find a chance. Moving his chair nearer hers, he began, getting to his subject without much circumlocution.

"Miss Dora," said he, "do you recall a conversation that I had with you one day? I mean about loneliness, and the longing one has for companionship?"

"Oh, yes," said she, frankly, "why? Do you wish to continue it now?"

"If you please. You remember you said you would be better able to do so after your sister's marriage."

"Because I thought that I would miss her so much and be lonely myself, was not that it? Well, of course I have missed Queen very much, but I have scarcely been lonely. You have taken care of that, and I am sure that I am very grateful to you. You have been very nice to me."

"You think so? You admit that?" He spoke eagerly.

"Why, yes! Why not, since it is true?"

"Of course, but then you know so many young ladies hide their feelings. I mean suppression of all emotion is considered so necessary in a woman in these days."

"Suppression!" and she laughed heartily. "Now do you think that I could ever be suppressed?"

"No, indeed, and certainly I hope that you never will be. But if you have not been lonely, perhaps you have thought some of that other subject, love, I mean."

"Oh! That!"

"Yes. That is one question, supreme to me, about which I wish to have your views. Do you think you would be happier or unhappier, – if you were married?"

"That is a question. It would depend upon – my husband, would it not?"

"Suppose that we were – "

"Don't call names, please. I couldn't suppose such a thing. I have promised not to."

"Promised not to, I don't understand?"

"I mean that I have made a bet. You don't think I am horrid to bet, do you? Of course you don't. Well, I have made a curious bet with Bob, Mr. Mitchel, you know. I call him Bob now, and I used to do it sometimes before. That was when I wanted him to do anything for me. It made him feel like one of the family. Well, to tell you about my bet. You see, sometimes, when Emily was out, Bob would play make love to me. He said it would be good practice for me; would teach me the ways of the world and all that sort of thing. Oh! Bob is a curious man, but he is great sport. Don't you like him?"

"Immensely. But you have not told me yet about your bet."

"I am coming to it. Well, one day when he was making love to me, and I was doing my best, suddenly he burst out laughing, and said: 'Dora, I'll bet you'll be engaged within six months of our marriage.' 'How much?' said I. 'As much as you like,' said he. I asked him if he would make it a thousand dollars, and he whistled and called me a little gambler. But I don't think it was gambling, because I was to have a certainty. Of course I wanted the stake to be a large one. So it was agreed, and he wrote it down on paper. I'll show it to you sometime if you like. If I am not engaged before the 1st of January, Bob will have to pay me a thousand dollars."

"And you mean to win that bet?"

"Indeed I do. I am young and can afford to wait that long, I am sure. There will be time enough afterwards to get a husband."

"Then it would not make any difference how anxious a suitor might be to have his reply at once?"

"No, certainly not. If a man did not love me enough to wait a few months for his answer I should think myself well rid of him. Besides it would give me a chance to study him."

"Suppose – but no – I do ask you. Miss Dora – Dora – I love you madly, passionately, and – "

"Well, don't say any more. If that is true, and you love me madly, passionately, why then you will surely wait till January for your answer." This was said rather curtly, and Mr. Thauret's hopes sank, but rose again to fever heat as she said, very softly: "There, I did not mean to hurt you. You must not think me hard. But I must win that wager. Not so much for the money as for the gratification of proving to Bob that I have some control over myself. Surely, if you truly love me you will not begrudge me that satisfaction?"

"No, no, sweet one. Have your own way. I'll wait. Only say that there is some chance of my succeeding."

"Why, of course, every one has a chance. But I must not tell you how great yours is, because if I did I would not be winning my bet fairly. And I must say good-night," with which she left him. Her last words lingered with him, and he took comfort. For what could she mean but that his chances were good, since if otherwise, how could the telling prevent her from winning her wager? Nevertheless, as the weeks went on, he tried many times to get a more definite reply from her, but never succeeded. Still he hugged the cherished hope to his heart and waited as patiently as man could.

Randolph was simply miserable all the time. Whenever he was with Dora she was good to him, kind to him, and often used tender tones that thrilled his heart. But he too failed to get anything from her, save the old request that he should be patient and wait. He too waited, but not patiently.

Meanwhile, in New York, Mr. Barnes was still burrowing into everything that seemed to have any connection direct or otherwise with the mystery, or mysteries, that baffled him. Of one thing he had satisfied himself beyond all doubt. That was that Mr. Fisher had not been implicated in the train robbery. His spy had found that he had been absent from the city during three days at the time of the crime, but this very fact had been shown to be his safeguard. By some skilful work the man discovered, that during that time he had simply been off shooting ducks, in a part of the country where it would have been impossible for him to be an accomplice. This simple fact should not have been hard to discover, were it not that Fisher had kept his trip a secret. This for some time puzzled the detective, but finally he followed him out of the city, and practically accompanied him on a similar outing, after which he learned that his sister was morbidly opposed to all killing, whether for sport or for a livelihood. It was to humor this idea that her brother made his excursions in secret. The spy learned from the man from whom the dogs were hired that Mr. Fisher had used them in December. So that left him out of the score, or at least so it seemed. It was still possible that he was implicated in the ruby robbery, though save that he was present there seemed nothing against him. Mr. Barnes did not entirely leave him out of the account.

Thus practically the detective made no progress, and was chagrined to be compelled to admit it. Finally, however, an idea occurred to him, upon which the more he dwelt, the more fascinated he became with it. To put it into practice, however, he felt that he must await the return of Mr. Mitchel. He thought he would injure his cause by seeking him and so disturbing him during his pleasure trip.

The Mitchels did not keep their promise to go to the White Mountains, but on the contrary prolonged their western travel, so that it was November before they were at home again, and temporarily quartered at the Fifth Avenue. A few days after, Mr. Barnes sent up his card, and as usual, was cordially received.

"Any news of my wife's ruby?" asked Mr. Mitchel, grasping the detective warmly by the hand.

"No, Mr. Mitchel. I am sorry to say that I am utterly unable to prove any of my theories about that. But I have come to a set determination, and one that to you may seem a peculiar one. I have come to ask your assistance in the murder case."

"Why, certainly, I will help you. Did I not tell you so at the very outset? Have I not always been willing to talk freely to you?"

"You have, but as long as I thought that you yourself might have committed the crime, how could I come to you to ask you to assist me?"

"Then I am to understand that at present you do not suspect me?"

"I have come to that conclusion at last, and wish now that I had done so sooner."

"Would you mind telling me why you have altered your mind? You have told me so much that seemed to implicate me, that I am curious to hear the other side."

"Certainly. I overheard your wager. Then came the robbery, and then the murder. Later there was a second jewel robbery; all of these crimes occurred within the limit which you set. One of them of course you committed. It seems more probable that you stole the single ruby, for in doing that you committed a crime for which you could not be punished, especially since you have married the lady. Even before, she would willingly have testified that it was understood between you, and that it was simply a trick to win a wager. Is not that correct logic?"

"Correct logic? Yes. Of course I admit nothing as to facts."

"Either or both of these robberies are secondary to the murder. That I have determined to unravel if I can. At present I think the train robber and the murderer was one and the same person. Now, there is one clue which I have not been able to follow, but which, if pursued, I am certain will lead me straight to the criminal."

"And that is?"

"The button which I found in the room. That is significant. It is too great a coincidence that it should match your set, not to have an explanation that would shed light upon this case."

"How do you expect me to assist you in that direction?"

"As long as I thought you guilty, I believed that you had lied when you said that the seventh button of the set was the Shakespeare pin which your wife had. That is why I thought it of importance to recover it; sufficiently so, to send my spy, Lucette, into the house with instructions to obtain it if possible. Now that I believe you innocent of the murder, this thought has recently come to me. When I first told you about this button, before you would speak about it, you asked me to allow you to examine it. After doing so, you gave it back to me, with a cheerful smile. If that button had been evidence against you, I see now that it would have required a powerful nerve to appear so unconcerned, and especially to return it to me. The question then that I wish you to answer is, what was it that you saw on that button, which satisfied you that it was not of your set?"

"In the first place, Mr. Barnes, I knew that there were but three like it, the other three having different heads, and the seventh being the Shakespeare button. Thus as I knew that all the buttons were in my possession, I felt safe."

"But in the second place," said the detective, "there was a distinct difference between the buttons, and by that you were even more assured. Am I not right?"

"Mr. Barnes, you deserve to succeed, and I hope you will. I will aid you all that I can. You are right. There is a difference in the buttons. Have you yours with you?"

"Yes, here it is;" saying which, he took it from his pocket-book.

"Keep it a moment. When Miss Remsen ordered these buttons, she directed that a tiny initial should be adroitly carved in the hair of each of the Romeo and Juliet buttons. In the former she ordered an "R." She calls me Roy. And in the others a "Q." I call her Queen. This would escape ordinary observation, but after seeing it with a lens, one may readily find it with the naked eye afterwards. Now take this lens and examine your button, just at the base of the hair, near the neck. So! What do you find?"

"By heavens," exclaimed the detective, "This is most important. This is a Juliet, and if one of your set, it should have a "Q," on it. I believe that there was an attempt to make that letter, but the tool must have slipped, and so it is a poor result, a chip in fact, which mars the continuity of the letter. I doubt if with the eye alone as you looked at it that day, when I first showed it to you, that you saw any letter at all."

"You are correct. I simply looked for the "Q," and not finding it, was satisfied."

"This is serious. This button evidently was made by the same hand that made yours. It was spoiled, and another cut to replace it. The man who carved it, or the person who became possessed of it, must and shall explain to me how it came into the room where the murder was done. You must tell me now where these buttons were bought."

"I will do so upon one condition."

"Name it."

"That whatever you discover, you will tell me before you act, and that you will not act before January 1st unless absolutely necessary."

"You mean as to making an arrest?"

"That is precisely what I mean. You need not fear to make the promise. I will guarantee that your man shall not escape. I know him."

"You know him?" Mr. Barnes was astonished that Mr. Mitchel should make such an admission.

"Yes, I know him. That is, I am morally certain that I know him. I will tell you at once, that having the knowledge that I myself was innocent, I have had an advantage over you, and I have been hunting down this man all these months. I have good circumstantial evidence against him, but not enough to warrant an arrest; at least not yet. If you could follow this clue, and find that it leads to the same man, we could convict him."

"Will you give me the name of the man whom you suspect?"

"No! That would materially weaken our case. We must get the same result without collusion. No, you work alone and work quickly, for I particularly wish the case to be completed by January 1st."

"Why so?"

"It is the day upon which my wager is to be decided, and I shall give a dinner party, at which I anticipate some fun. By the way, don't forget that you won a dinner from me on a wager. Accept an invitation to dine with me January 1st, and if you can then convict our man, you shall be most welcome."

"I shall bend every energy to that end. But now tell me the name of the jeweller from whom the buttons were procured."

Mr. Mitchel then wrote down the name of a Paris firm, also giving their address. Handing the slip of paper to Mr. Barnes, he took another sheet and continued writing.

"Why, Mr. Mitchel," exclaimed Mr. Barnes, "This is the same firm from whom your jewels were bought; those I mean, which are similar to the stolen set. I have already communicated with these people, and they sent me word that they knew nothing."

"Yes, I know. That was by my instruction," saying which Mr. Mitchel smiled, and Mr. Barnes once more discovered that he had been fighting against a man who thought of everything. "You see," continued Mr. Mitchel, "I knew that you saw the name of the jewellers on the bill of sale. What more probable than that you should apply there for information? Now, my one object throughout has been, not to defeat justice, but to have time enough elapse for me to win my wager. Therefore, I immediately sent a cable to these persons, 'Answer nothing signed Barnes till you hear from me.' Rather a long cable despatch, but then I don't mind a few dollars. Of course, my letter to them made them shut their mouths to you. It was very simple. However, I myself have not been able to get satisfactory facts from them, and I think it needs a person actually on the ground to ferret out this thing. I believe you are just the man for the case. This letter will give you their assistance, and here is a check for five hundred dollars for expenses."

Mr. Barnes would have refused, but Mr. Mitchel insisted, that from that time on, Mr. Barnes should consider himself regularly employed on the murder case, "though, of course," said Mr. Mitchel, jocularly, "you are still free to work out the robberies."

The two men shook hands at parting, and one would have said that they were separating after a mutually satisfactory interview.