An Artist in Crime

by Rodrigues Ottolengui

  CHAPTER VIII.

  LUCETTE.

  Two days after the events just related, Emily Remsen's maid announcedthat she had just received news that her mother was very ill, and thatshe had been notified to go to her at once. Her mother, she said, livedin Elizabeth, New Jersey. She wished to go at the earliest possiblemoment, and begged that her cousin, Lucette, should be allowed to attendto her duties till her return, which she hoped would be in a very fewdays. Asked if her cousin was competent, she said yes, and especiallyapt at arranging the hair, having served an apprenticeship with a Frenchhair-dresser. Indeed the girl's real name was Lucy, but she had changedit to Lucette, to pretend that being French she was necessarily a goodmaid.

  In Miss Remsen's mind this changing of her name was nothing in thegirl's favor; but as her own maid was thus suddenly taken from her, andas this other was offered at once, she agreed to the proposal.

  Lucette arrived during the afternoon, and Miss Remsen was delighted withher. Expecting a talkative, intrusive person, assuming Frenchifiedmannerisms, she was surprised to find a quiet unpretentious creature,who immediately showed herself to be well acquainted with the dutiesrequired of her. Within the first twenty-four hours she found herself somuch better served than by her absent maid, that she almost wished thatthe mother would require her for a long time. Dora, too, was charmedwith Lucette.

  "Queen," said she the next afternoon, "what do you think of your newmaid?"

  "Who?--Lucette?" answered the sister. "O I think she does very well."

  "Does very well? Why, Queen, she is a jewel. If you do not appreciateher, I wish you would bequeath her to me when Sarah returns."

  "O ho! So my young miss wants a maid to herself, does she?"

  "O no! Not especially, but I want to keep Lucette in the family. She isa treasure. Dressing the hair is not her only accomplishment either,though I never saw yours look more beautiful. She has just arranged thetable for our 'afternoon tea,' and I never saw anything like it. It isjust wonderful what that girl can do with a napkin in the way ofdecoration."

  "O yes," said Emily, "Lucette is clever; but don't let her know that wethink so. It might make her less valuable. Now tell me, Dora dear, whois coming this afternoon?"

  "Oh! The usual crush I suppose."

  "Including Mr. Randolph?"

  "Queen, there is a mystery about him. Let me tell you. In the firstplace, he has not been here for over a week, and then yesterday I sawhim coming down Fifth Avenue, and, would you believe it? just as I wasabout to bow to him, he turned down a side street."

  "He did not see you, my dear, or he surely would have spoken. He wouldhave been too glad."

  "Well, if he did not see me, he must have suddenly contractednear-sightedness; that is all I have to say."

  Shortly after, company began to arrive, and very soon the rooms werefilled by a crowd which is aptly described by the term used by Dora. Onegoes to these affairs partly from duty and partly from habit. One leavesmainly from the instinctive sense of self-preservation inherent in all.

  Dora was besieged by a number of admirers, and took pleasure in avoidingMr. Randolph, who was assiduous in his attentions. He seemed anxious toget her off into the seclusion of a corner, a scheme which the younglady frustrated without appearing to do so.

  Mr. Thauret was also present, though he did not remain very long. Hechatted a short time with Emily on conventional subjects, and thenworked his way to the side of Dora, where he lingered longer. He saidseveral pretty things to her, such as she had heard already in differentforms from other men, but with just a tone, which seemed to indicatethat he spoke from his heart rather than from the mere passing fancy ofpleasing. It was very skilfully done. There was so little of it, that noone, certainly not an inexperienced girl like Dora, could suspect thatit was all studied. Yet after he had gone, and the company was thinningout, Mr. Randolph found his long-sought opportunity, and sat down for a_tete-a-tete_ with Dora. He began at once.

  "Miss Dora, why do you allow a cad like that Frenchman to make love toyou?"

  "Are you alluding to my friend, Mr. Thauret?" She accentuated the word"friend" merely to exasperate Mr. Randolph, and succeeded admirably.

  "He is not your friend. In my opinion, he is nobody's friend but hisown."

  "That has been said of so many, that it is no new idea."

  "But do be serious, Miss Dora. You must not allow this fellow to wormhis way into your circle, and more than all, you must not allow him tomake love to you."

  "You surprise me, Mr. Randolph. I had no idea that Mr. Thauret wasmaking love to me. I could relate everything that he said, and it wouldscarcely bear out your assumption."

  "That is only his cunning. He is too shrewd to speak plainly, so soon";and yet this young philosopher was not wise enough to see that he wasdamaging his own cause by putting ideas into the girl's mind which hadnot yet entered there.

  "Why, Mr. Randolph, you are really becoming amusing. You are like DonQuixote fighting windmills. You imagine a condition, and then give me awarning. It is entirely unnecessary, I assure you. Mr. Thauret was notacting in any such way as you impute to him."

  "You are not angry with me, I hope. You know what prompted me tospeak?"

  "No, I fear I am not so clever as you at reading other people'smotives."

  "But surely you must have guessed that----"

  "Guessed what?" Dora looked at him so candidly, that he was abashed. Itwas his opportunity to declare himself, and he might have done so, hadnot Mr. Mitchel entered the room at that moment. Seeing him, Mr.Randolph thought of the peculiar position he would be in if his friendshould be proven to be a criminal. For this reason he hesitated, andthus lost a chance which did not recur again for a very long time. Hereplied in a jesting tone, and soon after left the house.

  The company had departed. Dora had gone to her own room, leaving Mr.Mitchel and Emily alone together.

  "Emily, my Queen," said Mr. Mitchel, taking one of her hands caressinglywithin both of his, as they sat upon a _tete-a-tete_ sofa, "I almostbelieve that I am dreaming when I think that you love me."

  "Why so, Roy?"

  "Listen, little woman. I am in an odd mood to-night, and I wish verymuch to talk to you. May I?"

  For answer she touched him lightly, lovingly, on the face with herdisengaged hand, and bowed assent.

  "Then listen while I make my confession. I am different from other men,much as I count you different from all women. I have met many, in allthe capitals of Europe, and here in my own country. I have never beenaffected by any, as I was by you. In the first instant of meeting you, Ihad chosen you for my wife. When I asked for you, I had not the leastidea that you would refuse, until having spoken, I saw the bold audacityof my words, and for half an instant the idea lived with me that I wastoo presumptuous."

  "You were not, my Roy. Like you I have passed lovers by, as unaffectedas by the ocean breezes. When I met you, I said to myself: 'This is mymaster.'"

  "God bless you, Emily. Let me continue. I have chosen you to be my wife.As heaven is my witness, I shall never deceive you in aught. But,--andthis is the hard test which your love must endure--I may be compelled attimes to keep you in ignorance of some things. Do you think that yourlove is great enough to believe that when I do so it is from love ofyou, that I keep a secret from you?"

  "Roy, perhaps this is conceit, but if so, still I say it. A weaker lovethan mine would say to you, 'I trust you, but I love you so that youneed not hesitate to share your secrets with me.' I tell you that Itrust you implicitly. That I am content to hear your secrets or not, asyour own judgment and love for me shall decide."

  "I knew that you would speak so. Had you said less I should have beendisappointed. I will tell you then at once, that there is a secret in mylife which I have shared with no one, and which I am not willing yet toreveal to you. Are you still content?"

  "Do you doubt it? Do you think that I would make an assertion only todraw back from my boast as soon as tried?"

  "No, my Queen, but i
t is asking much to ask a woman to marry whilstthere is a secret which cannot be told. Especially when there are thosewho may believe that there is shame or worse, concealed."

  "No one would dare to so misjudge you!"

  "Indeed, but you are mistaken. There are those who do not count me asirreproachable as I may seem to you. What if I were to tell you that adetective watches me day and night?"

  "Oho? That would not frighten me. You have explained all about yourwager. I suppose Mr. Barnes is keeping an eye on you. Is that it?"

  "Partly that, and partly because he thinks that I am connected with thismurdered woman. To a certain extent he is right."

  "You mean that you knew her?"

  "Yes." Mr. Mitchel paused to see whether she would ask another questionafter his admission. But she meant all that she had said when assertingthat she trusted him. She remained silent. Mr. Mitchel continued:"Naturally Mr. Barnes is desirous of learning how much I know. There areurgent reasons why I do not wish him to do so. You have it in your powerto aid me."

  "I will do so!"

  "You have not heard what it is that I wish."

  "I do not care what it is. I will do it if you ask me."

  "You are worthy of my love." He drew her gently towards him, and kissedher lightly on the lips. "I say it not in egotism, for I love you asmuch as man may. Were you unworthy--I should never love again."

  "You may trust me, Roy." Her words were simple, but there was a passionof truth contained in their utterance.

  "I will tell you at once, what I wish. For it must be done promptly. Youmust be ready--Who is that?"

  Mr. Mitchel spoke the last two words in a sharp tone, rising from hisseat and taking a step forward. The large room was but dimly lighted,the gas having been lowered to please Emily who abhorred well-lightedrooms. At the further end some one was standing, and had attracted Mr.Mitchel's attention. It was Lucette, and she replied at once:

  "Your mother sent me to know if you are ready for supper, Miss Emily."

  "Say that we will be in, in a few minutes," replied Emily, and Lucetteleft the room.

  "Who is that girl?" asked Mr. Mitchel.

  Emily explained how the new maid had been engaged and Mr. Mitchelspeaking in a tone louder than was really necessary, said:

  "She seems to be a quiet, good girl. Rather too quiet, for she startledme coming in so noiselessly. Shall we go in? What I have to tell youwill keep. It is something I wish you to do for me the day afterto-morrow."

  After supper Mr. Mitchel took the two girls and their mother to thetheatre, much to the delight of the latter, who was always shockedwhenever Emily went unattended by a _chaperone_. The party walked goingand coming, and as Dora and her mother were ahead, Mr. Mitchel had ampleopportunity to explain to his _fiancee_ the favor which he wished her todo for him. When leaving the house that night he said:

  "You will not see me again for a couple of days. Keep well till then."

  Lucette, who had overheard this remark, was, therefore, ratherastonished to see Mr. Mitchel walk in the next morning as early as teno'clock. She was still more surprised to have her mistress announce thatshe was going out. What puzzled her most of all was that Emily went outalone, leaving Mr. Mitchel in the parlor. In fact this seemed to giveher so much food for reflection, that as though struck by theconclusions arrived at, she herself prepared to go out. As she waspassing along the hall, however, the parlor door opened and Mr. Mitchelconfronted her.

  "Where are you going, Lucette?"

  "I have an errand to do, sir," she replied with a slight tremor.

  "Come into the parlor, first. I wish to speak to you." She feltcompelled to obey, and walked into the room, Mr. Mitchel opening thedoor and waiting for her to pass through. He then followed, afterclosing the door behind him, locking it and taking the key from thelock.

  "Why did you do that?" asked Lucette angrily.

  "You forget yourself, Lucette. You are a servant, and good servantssuch as you have proven that you know how to be, never ask questions.However, I will answer you. I locked the door because I do not wish youto get out of this room."

  "I won't be locked in here with you. I am a respectable girl."

  "No one doubts it. You need not get excited, I am not going to hurt youin any way."

  "Then why have you brought me in here?"

  "Simply to keep you here till--well, say till twelve o'clock. That isabout two hours. Do you mind?"

  "Yes, I do mind. I won't be kept in here alone with you for two hours."

  "You amuse me. How will you prevent it?"

  Lucette bit her lip, but said nothing. She saw that there was no helpfor her. She might scream, of course, but Mrs. Remsen and Dora had goneout before Emily. She and Mr. Mitchel were alone in the apartment. Shemight attract the attention of the janitor, or of people in the street.As this idea occurred to her she glanced toward the window. Mr. Mitcheldivined her thoughts in a moment.

  "Don't try screaming, Lucette," said he, "for if you do, I will becompelled to gag you. You will find that very uncomfortable for twohours."

  "Will you tell me why you wish to keep me here?"

  "I thought I did tell you. The fact is, I do not wish you to do thatlittle errand of yours."

  "I don't understand you."

  "Oh, yes, you do. You are not such a fool as all that. Now, my girl,you may as well bow to the inevitable. Make yourself comfortable tilltwelve. Read the paper, if you wish. There is an interesting account ofthe murder case. The woman, you know, who was killed in the flatupstairs. Have you followed it?"

  "No, I have not," she replied, snappishly.

  "That is strange. Do you know, I took you to be just the person whowould have a deep interest in that kind of thing."

  "Well, I am not."

  For the next two hours not a word passed. Mr. Mitchel sat in a largearm-chair and simply watched the girl with an aggravating smile upon hisface. In fact the smile was so aggravating, that after encountering it afew minutes, Lucette did not look at him again, but rivetted her gazeupon the opposite side of the street. At last the clock chimed twelve.Instantly the girl arose.

  "May I go now?"

  "Yes, Lucette, you may go now--and do your little errand--that is if itis not too late. And by the way, Lucette, Miss Remsen asked me to say toyou that she will not need your services after to-day."

  "Do you mean that I am discharged?"

  "Not exactly that. I said you would not be needed. You see Miss Remsenthinks that you come into and go out of rooms with too little noise. Sheis very nervous, and it startles her to find you in her presence,without having heard you enter."

  "You are a devil!" replied Lucette in a passion, as she darted throughthe door, which Mr. Mitchel had unlocked, and ran down-stairs and out ofthe house.

  "I was right," thought Mr. Mitchel, as he sat down once more.

  Lucette hurried across to Broadway and went into the district telegraphoffice at the corner. Hastily scribbling a few lines on a blank, sheasked for a boy, and gave him a coin with the instruction to "hurry."She then went down to Madison Square and waited there--I was about towrite, patiently--but really the word would not apply. She sat on abench. Jumped up in less than five minutes, walked about for awhile, andthen sat down again, repeating this over and over, till it was plainthat she was in a bad humor,--a very bad humor.

  At last she saw a man approaching her, and hurried to meet him. It wasMr. Barnes. He, too, looked excited.

  "Well, what is it? Why are you here?" he asked.

  "I am discharged!"

  "Discharged? Why?"

  "I don't know why, but that devil Mitchel is at the bottom of it. Helocked me up for two hours this morning, and then told me Miss Remsenwould not need me any further. I felt like scratching his eyes out." Shethen told the story to the detective, winding up with, "From what I didcatch of their conversation last night I think he has made a confidantof his sweetheart. He asked her to help him and just as he was about totell her what to do, somehow he saw me and c
losed up like a clam. Ithink now it had something to do with the child."

  "By heaven, you are right. I see it all. I had just returned from thathouse, when I got your note and came up here. I went to the school thismorning pretending that I wished to place a child there. Then, after awhile, I asked if my friend Mr. Mitchel's daughter, Rose, was not at theschool. 'Yes,' replied the woman in charge, 'but she has just left us.''Left you,' said I, 'when?' 'About ten minutes ago. Her mother calledfor her in a carriage and took her away.' Don't you see, whilst you werelocked in that room, Miss Remsen went down and removed the child."

  "But Miss Remsen is not her mother?"

  "No, stupid. Haven't you any sense left at all? Are you going to be abungler all your life? This comes of your disobedience. You let Mitchelsee you in the elevated train, and now you find out how smart you were."

  "Nonsense, he never recognized me."

  "He did. I was a fool to trust such an important matter to a woman."

  "Oh! were you? Well that woman is not such a fool as you think. I havethat button back."

  "Ah! Good! How did you manage it?"

  "They all went to the theatre last night, and I just hunted through MissRemsen's things till I found it, in one of her jewel-cases. Here it is."Saying which, she handed to the detective the cameo button which he hadfound in the room where the murder had been committed. He saw that itwas the same, and was somewhat comforted to have it back.

  "Has Mr. Mitchel made Miss Remsen any present lately?" he asked.

  "Yes, he gave her a magnificent ruby last night. Miss Remsen told methat it is worth a fortune, and it looks it."

  "How was it set?"

  "It is made into a pin to be worn in the hair."

  "Well, I have no further use for you at present. Go home, and be sureyou keep a still tongue in your head. You have done enough mischiefalready."

  "Haven't I done any good? I think you are very mean."

  "Yes, you have done some good. But you will find that in this world onefailure counts against three successes. Remember that."