An Artist in Crime. Ottolengui Rodrigues

of mind, and recover the lost button which led to his final arrest."

      "It is possible that you are right, for had I been Pettingill I should have been coerced by necessities as he was. Yet I think I should not have planned such a robbery, choosing my own time as he did, and then have taken with me such a button. But from Mr. Barnes's standpoint, as I said before, very little of the artistic was needed. The button was constructed of a curious old coin. Mr. Barnes went the rounds of the dealers and found the very man who had sold Pettingill the coin. The rest was routine work."

      "Well, you are conceited, but I don't mind making a thousand out of your egotism. Now I am sleepy, however, so good-night."

      "Good-night, old man. Dream of a way to earn an extra thousand, for I shall win."

      For Mr. Barnes himself sleep was now more impossible than ever. He was attracted to this new case, for so he counted it, and was determined to trap the individual who wagered against his acumen. It was a long step towards success to know as much as he had overheard. He would not lose sight of his man during the allotted month. He enjoyed the prospect of allowing him to commit his crime and then quietly taking him in the act. Carefully and noiselessly he dressed himself and slipped out of his berth. Then he crept into one opposite, so that he could have his eye on number eight, and settled down for an all-night vigil.

      "It would not surprise me if that keen devil were to commit his crime this very night. I hope so, for otherwise I shall have no sleep till he does."

CHAPTER II.

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A DARING AND SUCCESSFUL TRAIN ROBBERY.

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      The train was just approaching Stamford, and from the window in the section which he occupied Mr. Barnes was watching the sun glowing red over the hilltops, when he heard approaching him the guard who had assisted him to jump aboard the night before. The man was making mysterious gestures, from which Mr. Barnes understood that he was wanted. He arose and followed the porter to the smoking-room.

      "I think you called yourself Barnes," said the man, "as you jumped aboard last night."

      "Yes, what of it?"

      "Are you Mr. Barnes the detective?"

      "Why do you ask?"

      "Because, if you are, the conductor wants to see you. There was a big robbery committed on the train during the night."

      "The devil!"

      "Exactly, but will you come into the next coach?"

      "Wait a minute." Mr. Barnes went back into the main part of the coach and tip-toed towards number eight. Gently moving the curtains, he peeped in and looked long and earnestly. He saw two men undoubtedly sleeping soundly. Satisfied therefore that he could leave his watch for a brief period, he followed the porter into the next coach, where he found the conductor waiting for him in the smoking-room.

      "You are Mr. Barnes the detective?" asked the conductor. Mr. Barnes assented.

      "Then I wish to place in your hands officially a most mysterious case. We took on a lady last night at Boston, who had a ticket to South Norwalk. As we were approaching that point a short time ago she was notified by the porter. She arose and dressed preparatory to leaving the train. A few minutes later I was hurriedly summoned, when the woman, between hysterical sobs, informed me that she had been robbed."

      "Of much?"

      "She claims to miss a satchel containing a hundred thousand dollars, in jewelry."

      "You have stated that adroitly. She claims to miss! What evidence have you that she has met with any loss at all?"

      "Of course we cannot tell about the jewelry, but she did have a satchel, which is now missing. The porter remembers it, and we have searched thoroughly with no success."

      "We have stopped at New Haven and at Bridgeport. How many persons have left the train?"

      "No one has left the sleepers."

      "When you say that no one has left the sleepers, I suppose you mean you saw no one leave?"

      "No! I mean just what I said. I have sent the porters through the coaches and they report that all our passengers are in their berths. But here we come to a point. If no one has left the train, then the thief must be aboard?"

      "Certainly!"

      "The woman when 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