An Artist in Crime Part 5

"Come in, Mr. Barnes: we must not stand upon ceremony with one another."

Mr. Barnes in answer to the invitation crossed into the adjoining room and noticed at once that the sleeping apartment was as luxurious as the parlor. Mr. Mitchel was standing in front of a mirror shaving himself, being robed in a silk morning wrapper.

"Pardon this intrusion," began Mr. Barnes. "But you told me I might call at any time, and----"

"No excuses necessary, except from me. But I must finish shaving, you know. A man can't talk with lather on one side of his face."

"Certainly not. Don't hurry, I can wait."

"Thank you. Take a seat. You will find that armchair by the bed comfortable. This is an odd hour to be making one's toilet but the fact is I was out late last night."

"At the club, I suppose," said Mr. Barnes, wis.h.i.+ng to see if Mr. Mitchel would lie to him. In this he was disappointed, for the reply was:

"No, I went to the Casino. Lillian Russell you know has returned. I had promised a friend to go, so we went."

"A gentleman?"

"Are you not getting inquisitive? No, not a gentleman, but a lady. In fact, that is her picture on that easel."

Mr. Barnes looked, and saw an oil painting representing a marvellously beautiful female head. A brunette of strong emotions and great will power if her portrait were truthful. Here was a significant fact. Mr.

Mitchel said that he had been to the Casino with this woman. Wilson claimed that they had gone to the house where the murdered woman lay. It would seem that Mr. Mitchel's 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 pa.s.sed through Mr. Barnes's mind his eyes wandered across the bed.

He saw a waistcoat upon which he observed two b.u.t.tons 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 wis.h.i.+ng 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 b.u.t.tons 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 b.u.t.tons 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 b.u.t.tons?"

"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 b.u.t.tons, 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 b.u.t.tons seemed opportune.

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

Mr. Mitchel dropped into a cus.h.i.+oned rocker before he replied:

"These b.u.t.tons were made for me, and they are exquisite specimens of the graver's art. Cameo b.u.t.tons, 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 b.u.t.tons 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 b.u.t.tons 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 b.u.t.tons 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 b.u.t.tons 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 b.u.t.ton 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 b.u.t.ton!" 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 a.s.sume 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?"