she discovered her loss concluded to remain aboard and go on to New York. All the other passengers, save one, are booked for New York. That one is a man, and he is now dressing, as his destination is Stamford. If he leaves he may take the jewels with him, yet what am I to do?"
"State the facts of the case to him. If he is innocent he will willingly submit to being searched. If, however, he refuses, – well we can be guided by circumstances. Call him in here now."
A few minutes later a foreign and distinctly French-appearing man entered. In speech he disclosed his origin, but the accent was slight. He was of fine appearance, dignified and gentlemanly.
Mr. Barnes sat at the window looking out. The conductor with considerable hesitancy explained the case concluding with:
"You see, my dear sir, this is an awkward business, but we are so sure that the thief is still aboard, that – "
"That you hesitate to allow me to leave the train, eh, Monsieur, is it not so? Yet why should there be any trouble? An honest man must never be hurt in his feelings when he is asked to assist the law, even though for the moment he is himself a – what you call it – suspect? In this case it is so simple, if only the honest men will make no trouble. They will say to you – 'Search me.' You do so, and at last one comes who says, 'You insult me.' That one is of course the thief, eh, Monsieur, do you not agree with me?" He turned towards Mr. Barnes, addressing this last remark to him. The detective looked at him a moment steadily, as was his wont when he meant to remember a face. The Frenchman returned the gaze undisturbed.
"I said almost the same thing to the conductor before you came in," said Mr. Barnes.
"Exactly so. Now then with your permission I will disrobe. Look, if you please, most carefully. My honor is at stake. The more carefully you examine, the less suspicion can attach to me hereafter."
The conductor made a thorough search, emptying every pocket and taking every precaution. He did not expect to find anything, but it was essential that extreme care should be observed. Nothing was found, and the man resumed his clothing.
"Now, if you please, I have with me but two small satchels. If the porter will bring them I will unlock them for you. I have no trunk, as I only went to Boston for a day's trip."
The satchels were brought, examined, and nothing found.
"Now, gentlemen, I suppose I am free, as we are at my station. I shall only remain here a few hours and will then go on to New York. If you should wish to see me again I shall stop at the Hoffman House. Here is my card. Au revoir."
Mr. Barnes took the card and scrutinized it.
"What do you think?" asked the conductor.
"Think? Oh, you mean of that fellow. You need not worry about him. There is not a shadow of suspicion against him – at present. Besides, should we ever want him, I could find him again. Here is his name – Alphonse Thauret – card genuine too, of French make and style of type. We can dismiss him now and turn our attention to the other passengers. Do you suppose I could have an interview with the woman?"
"You shall have it if you wish. We will not consult her wishes in the matter. The affair is too serious."
"Very well then send her in here and let me have a few words with her alone. Don't tell her that I am a detective. Leave that to me."
A few minutes later a tall woman apparently about forty-five years of age entered. She was not handsome yet had a pleasing face. As she seated herself she looked keenly at Mr. Barnes in a stealthy manner which should have attracted that gentleman's earnest thought. Apparently he did not notice it. The woman spoke first.
"The conductor has sent me in here to see you. What have you to do with the case?"
"Nothing!"
"Nothing? Then why – "
"When I say I have nothing to do with the case, I mean simply that it rests with you whether I shall undertake to restore to you your diamonds or not. I look after such things for this road, but if the loser does not wish any action taken by the road, why then we drop the matter. Do you wish me to make a search for the stolen property?"
"I certainly wish to recover the jewels, as they are very valuable; but I am not sure that I desire to place the case in the hands of a detective."
"Who said that I am a detective?"
"Are you not one?"
Mr. Barnes hesitated a moment, but quickly decided on his course.
"I am a detective, connected with a private agency. Therefore I can undertake to look up the thief without publicity. That is your main objection to placing the case in my hands is it not?"
"You are shrewd. There are reasons, family reasons, why I do not wish this loss published to the world. If you can undertake to recover the jewels and keep this robbery out of the newspapers I would pay you well."
"I will take the case. Now answer me a few questions. First, your name and address."
"My name is Rose Mitchel, and I am living temporarily in a furnished flat at – East Thirtieth Street. I have only recently come from New Orleans, my home, and am looking for suitable apartments."
Mr. Barnes took out his note-book and made a memorandum of the address.
"Married or single?"
"Married; but my husband has been dead for several years."
"Now about these jewels. How did it happen that you were travelling with so valuable a lot of jewelry?"
"I have not lost jewelry, but jewels. They are unset stones of rare beauty – diamonds, rubies, pearls, and other precious stones. When my husband died, he left a large fortune; but there were also large debts which swallowed up everything save what was due him from one creditor. This was an Italian nobleman – I need not mention his name – who died almost at the same time as my husband. The executors communicated with me, and our correspondence culminated in my accepting these jewels in payment of the debt. I received them in Boston yesterday, and already I have lost them. It is too cruel, too cruel." She gripped her hands together convulsively, and a few tears coursed down her face. Mr. Barnes mused a few moments and seemed not to be observing her.
"What was the value of these jewels?"
"A hundred thousand dollars."
"By what express company were they sent to you?" The question was a simple one, and Mr. Barnes asked it rather mechanically, though he was wondering if the thief had come across the ocean – from France perhaps. He was therefore astonished at the effect produced. The woman arose suddenly, her whole manner changed. She replied with her lips compressed tightly, as though laboring under some excitement.
"That is not essential. Perhaps I am telling too much to a stranger anyway. Come to my apartment this evening, and I will give you further particulars – if I decide to leave the case in your hands. If not I will pay you for whatever trouble you have in the interim. Good-morning."
Mr. Barnes watched her leave the room without offering to detain her or making any comment on her singular manner. Without rising from his seat he looked out of the window and strummed on the pane. What he thought it would be difficult to tell, but presently he said aloud, though there was no one to hear him:
"I think she is a liar."
Having relieved
