An Artist in Crime

by Rodrigues Ottolengui

  CHAPTER XIV.

  AN INTERRUPTED WEDDING.

  During the time spent by Mr. Barnes in the South, his spies in New Yorkdiscovered little, or nothing, against the persons whom they had beencharged to watch. Indeed from the standpoint of a detective, the actionsof all had been most uninteresting. The usual round of social affairs,the customary number of theatre or opera parties, the regular afternoonteas, in fact the ordinary routine life of the man or woman of fashion,was all that could be observed. Yet of course these weeks did not passwithout any occurrence of note. The chief one perhaps, was the naming ofthe day, upon which the wedding of Mr. Mitchel and Miss Remsen was tooccur. This was May 5th, the very day upon which Mr. Barnes would reachNew York with Mr. Neuilly.

  Thus, fate seemed hurrying on a climax which was to occur on the weddingday. In New Orleans a detective was seeking evidence upon which he hopedto convict a man of the heinous crime of murder, whilst in New York abeautiful woman was bestowing her faith upon this same man, and with theassistance of many fingers, preparing to bedeck herself in bridal fineryfor his delectation. Meanwhile, the man himself acted mostunconcernedly. He seemed to consider himself beyond the risk of danger,and he accepted his happiness as does one who had honorably earned it.

  Of much interest to us, in the light of fast approaching events, was thecurious conduct of Dora Remsen during this period. It will be rememberedthat Mr. Randolph had lost an opportunity of declaring himself, and thathe warned the young lady against Mr. Thauret as one not to be trusted.This kind of advice, it is to be presumed, is offered by the one givingit, with some idea, however distant, that it may be accepted. Yet thehistories of many lives would show that only a small percentage ofsimilar advice has ever been received with acquiescence. Indeed, itmight also be said that many persons have been hurried into each other'sarms by the interference of wiseacres, when perhaps, if left tothemselves, they would have drifted apart. At least so it seemed in thiscase. Mr. Thauret had become not only a constant visitor at the home ofthe Remsens', but he seemed a welcome one. He certainly was a mostentertaining man, and his manners utterly unapproachable. He hadtravelled, and not only had seen the world, but had observed it, whichis another thing. The result of this was that he had a fund of narrativealways at his disposal, and his conversation was so attractive that heeasily monopolized the attention of a _coterie_ at any social gathering.Mr. Randolph noted with growing uneasiness that Dora was always one ofthe group who listened to these tales. What disturbed him most, was thatafter the greatest amount of time spent and wasted, in seeking someflagrant defect in the man's character, he was at last compelled toacknowledge to himself that he had nothing against Mr. Thauret, except aprejudice. But that prejudice was as great, if not greater, than ever.He determined at length to speak to Mr. Mitchel about it, and did so oneafternoon when the rooms were crowded, his rival being as usual thecentre of an attentive group.

  "Mitchel," he began, "how the deuce did that fellow Thauret get intothis family?"

  "Dora met him somewhere, I believe. Why?"

  "Why? Can you ask that?"

  "Can I? Why certainly I can. I did ask you,--Why?"

  "I declare, Mitchel, you are either as blind as a bat, or else you haveeyes only for Miss Emily. Don't you see the danger that the youngersister is in, associating with that man?"

  "Well now, Randolph, to be candid, I must admit I do not see the danger.What is it?"

  "Why, suppose--suppose she fell in love with him? Suppose she marriedhim!"

  "Well, what then?"

  "What then? You would provoke a saint. You talk as coolly about thatchild's throwing herself away on a--a nobody--as though we werediscussing a shot at billiards."

  "Randolph, my friend, let me give you a bit of advice. When a man wishesto marry a girl, there are two important rules which he must observe,and both of them I believe you have neglected."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Before I explain, let me ask you a question. Am I right in supposingthat you wish to marry Dora yourself?"

  "Well, that is rather pointed. However, I will admit the truth. I wouldbe happy to have her love."

  "Very well. I will tell you those two rules. The first is, 'Never speakill of your rival.' The second is, 'Don't be too late asking for theyoung lady.'"

  Randolph looked at Mr. Mitchel a moment intently, then offered his hand,which was grasped warmly. He said simply "I thank you," and walked overto the group where Dora was. After awhile, taking advantage of anopportune lull, he leaned over her and said in an undertone:

  "May I have a few words of conversation with you?"

  She looked up at him, evidently surprised at his tone, and asked:

  "Is it important?"

  "Very," he replied succinctly, and excusing herself to the company shepermitted him to lead her into the next room, where she sat beside himon the sofa, to which he invited her with a motion. After a briefsilence, during which each thought intently, he began:

  "Miss Dora, I wish you to listen to me, if you please, to the end. Ithink you know that I love you." He paused just a moment, whilst shetrembled slightly, blushed, and drooped her head. He continued: "I havenever told you this before in words, I know, but you are a woman, andmust have read my heart long ago. You are all so clever at that sort ofthing. I am only a man, and I have not been able to read yours at all. Ireally do not know whether you care for me or not. Once I thought thatyou did, but of late--but no matter, I will not go into that. In brief,then, I have only to say that it would make me supremely happy to knowthat you would some day be my wife. In exchange, I offer you a lifelongdevotion. And now--I think--that is all I have to say. Dora--littlesweetheart--do you, could you trust yourself to me?"

  He had gently taken her hand whilst he spoke, and the fact that she hadneither resisted nor withdrawn it had encouraged him to the moreaffectionate terms which he used at the end of his love speech. Shehesitated awhile, then gently disengaging her hand, and looking at himwith just a suspicion of a tear in her eye, she said almost in awhisper:

  "Do you care very much?"

  "Very much! I cannot tell you how much." He tried to recapture her hand,but she eluded him. Again she asked a question:

  "Money is not an object to you, in this?"

  "Miss Remsen, you insult me."

  "No, no!" she said quickly, "you misunderstand. I did not mean my money.I can't explain, yet you must answer my question. Would you mind if--oh,how shall I say it? Suppose I did something that cost you a lot ofmoney----"

  "Oh! I see," exclaimed Mr. Randolph, brightening up. "You mean you areextravagant. Don't let that bother you a minute. You may cost me as muchmoney as you can possibly spend. I will never complain."

  She seemed much relieved, but she did not speak at once. Her eyeswandered away from him, and following her gaze he saw them reach andrest upon Mr. Thauret. A jealous pang darted through his heart. He wasabout to speak when she turned to him and said with suppressed emotion:

  "I hope you will not be angry with me, and that you will not think evilof me. There is something I cannot explain, yet which, if I could, youwould not object to. But until I can tell you about it--I cannot--Icannot--give you an answer. Would you--would you be willing to wait?"There was a tone of entreaty in her voice.

  "How long?" asked Mr. Randolph, still irritated, and wondering if thesomething which she could not tell was in any way connected with Mr.Thauret.

  "Would you mind--if I asked you to wait till--well, say the New Year?"

  "That is a long time, but if it is your will, I must."

  "Oh, thank you!" That was all she said; but there was a hint of rapturein her speech, there were tears in her eyes, and for one brief ecstaticmoment he thought that there was love in her heart, and that that lovewas for him. With an impulse that he could not control, and which shedid not check, he drew her to him, and softly touched her lips with hisown. He felt satisfied, though she left him immediately and went at onceto Mr. Thauret, who greeted her with evident warmth. There is
something,magnetism if you please, but a something that binds two true lovers'hearts so that an impulse in the one excites an answering sensation inthe other. The oddest fact in this connection is, that though one mayfancy himself deeply in love, he is not, till he has received one ofthese instantaneous messages which Cupid ticks over Love's telegraph.After that he is enslaved. His better judgment is gone. He will argue inthe lonely hours of the night that he has made a mistake, that the womanis not destined to make him happy, that she has this, that, or the otherfault, but it counts for nothing, save that he suffers. That one stabhas slain his manhood, and he cannot control his actions. As soon as hemeets the woman again, act as she may, his love is aflame once more. Shemay ill-treat him, she may ignore him, it matters not; she attracts him.

  Thus it was with poor Mr. Randolph. Throughout the many weeks thatfollowed he suffered much. He called his love all the unpleasant thingsthat jealousy could suggest. But invariably the recollection of that onemoment, when she had seemed in that indistinct, indescribable way tohave yielded her whole self, her whole soul to him, would flash acrosshis mind, and at once his reason was silenced, and he would say:

  "She could not have done that if she were false. She loves me, butthere is something that I do not understand which makes her treat me so.She told me so, and said that when she could tell it to me, I should notmind. Well, I must be patient and wait. I must trust her; she must be,she is, true!" And then gradually all the old doubts would creep overhim again, and the suffering would be as poignant as before.

  It was about a month after the conversation related, when a somewhatsimilar one occurred between the same young lady and Mr. Thauret. He hadcalled one afternoon, when Dora was alone, and so had the field tohimself. He spoke to her of all those things which he had found mostinteresting to her, and she was enjoying his society very much, whensuddenly, as twilight approached and the room grew slightly darkened, hebegan to touch upon a more tender theme. He spoke of himself, of thewandering life that he had led, of the fact that he was alone in theworld, without a living relative. He mentioned, as though it were of noimportance, that he was of noble blood. Then he drew a touching pictureof a man who, whilst really of a most affectionate nature, was compelledto live a loveless life, because there was none to whom he could turnfor that sort of comfort. Then he asked her gently, very gently, whethershe had ever thought upon the subject herself, and whether she had felta yearning for the companionship of one who would be all in all to her.His pleading was very pretty to listen to, and she heard him as thoughmuch impressed but her reply was not exactly what he evidently hoped itwould have been.

  "Oh, yes," said she, "I have thought of all that in a vague sort of way.But, you see, I have been in love with my beautiful Queen, for so longthat I cannot imagine a life without her. And yet"--there was a tremorin her voice--"I am going to lose her soon. She will go away for awhile,and then I fancy I shall feel that loneliness of which you speak. So, ifyou want to hear my real ideas upon that subject you must wait tillafter the wedding." She said this last with a tone of deep meaning, andMr. Thauret seemed to accept her remark as a hint, for he changed thesubject. Shortly afterwards he went away. As he walked down the avenue,there was almost a triumphant smile upon his face. This, however, wasnot reported to Mr. Barnes, for the spy was behind and could not see hisface.

  It was only a few nights after this that Mr. Mitchel was walking homefrom the club, accompanied by Mr. Thauret, when the latter turned theconversation upon the Miss Remsens.

  "They certainly are charming girls," said he, "but one would need to berich to afford the luxury of marrying one of them. I suppose they havenothing until the death of the mother."

  Mr. Mitchel thought that he understood the object of the question, andfor reasons of his own was glad to reply to it.

  "O, not at all," said he. "The father left each of them a handsome sum,fifty thousand in fact, which they are to receive as soon as married.The bulk of the money, of course, went to the widow, but her interest isonly for life, and then it is to be equally divided between the girls. Ithink it is somewhere near half a million."

  "You are a fortunate fellow. I wish I had your luck."

  "My dear Thauret, can a man of your intelligence believe in such astupid thing as luck? It no more exists than its antithesis, ill luck.Every man succeeds or not, according to his own skill in guiding hislife. Now you envy me my marriage to Emily, when certainly her sisterDora is just as charming, and richer, too."

  "Miss Dora is charming, true; but that does not make me a successfulsuitor. But what do you mean by saying that she is richer?"

  "Why, you see, her sister is devoted to her, and has promised her a giftof ten thousand dollars the day she marries, upon one condition."

  "And that condition is?"

  "That the husband shall be satisfactory to her."

  There was a silence for several minutes, finally broken by Mr. Thauret:

  "Well, in the light of your approaching marriage, which will make youthe only man in the family, I presume your influence would count. If Ishould wish to marry Miss Dora, I suppose you would favor my suit?"

  "That is not a new idea to me, I assure you. All I need say is that whenyou gain Dora's consent, you shall have mine."

  "Thank you." Mr. Thauret said this with suppressed emotion, and afterthat neither man spoke until they said good-night at Mr. Mitchel'shotel. Mr. Thauret, upon reaching his own room, smoked a cigar, and blewlittle ringlets over his head, thus occupying himself till long aftermidnight. He seemed to be building castles, and from the satisfiedexpression on his face, they must have been grand ones.

  Thus matters stood when the day dawned upon which the marriage was tooccur. Everything was bustle and confusion at the home of the Remsens.The bridesmaids arrived early, helped to deck the bride, and then stoodaround in delighted admiration. Dora was in ecstasies. Two magnificentbouquets had been sent to her, one entirely of carnation pinks, from Mr.Randolph, and the other a fine assortment of cut-flowers, amongst whichwere three beautiful Calla lilies, tied with long white satin ribbons.These were the gift of Mr. Thauret. She stood admiring the flowers for afew moments, then tenderly untied the pinks, and, taking a few of eachcolor, made a small bouquet, which she pinned just at the opening of herdress near the throat. Thus they were near enough to exhale a fragranceof which she would be continually conscious. Just before leaving thehouse, however, she took the Callas and carried them with her in hergloved hand.

  Before the day was over a little tragedy occurred, of which she was notonly innocent, but unconscious. In the throng entering the church herpinks were swept from her breast, and in her excitement she did notobserve her loss. Mr. Randolph, however, the groom's best man, notedcarefully that she carried flowers, and that they were not his.Subsequently she, in reply to a question from him, admitted who had sentthem, and though he made no remark, he slept little that night. Thuseasily men suffer.

  Emily was dressed--but there, why should I attempt to describe what onlya Worth could have furnished, and only wealth could afford? If you canimagine the most beautiful shade and quality of pearl-colored silk, andadd to that the finest of lace, and to that the most marvellousprofusion of tiny ribbon bows, then, as I hinted, recall that the geniusof Worth designed the garment, perhaps you will imagine all that I couldtell you. At least I may say that as the bride entered the church on thearm of that magnificent man, Mr. Van Rawlston, who, as her father'sdearest friend, had been invited to take his place, every woman presenttook one lingering look at the woman and her gown, and then turned toher neighbor to express her admiration. Moreover, I will say that thesum of all that praise was not enough fully to describe Emily Remsen,who looked every inch "a royal queen," as Dora delightedly told everyone for years afterward.

  But after the bridal party had passed, people naturally looked for thegroom, and they wondered not to see him. Whispering occurred, andinquiries were made without satisfactory response. Some thought thatthere had been a mistake, and that the signal had be
en given to thebride and her friends too soon. It was an awkward situation, because ofcourse, once having reached the altar, they could not turn and leave thechurch again. Consequently they simply stood and waited. Every one atlength grew so nervous, that save for the organ, there gradually stoleover the whole edifice a solemn silence. People were awed, and fearingat last as the minutes passed and still the groom did not appear, thatsomething dreadful either had or was about to occur, they almost heldtheir breaths. A few intimate friends went out on tip-toe, but the doorleading to the vestry-room was guarded by a man in livery, who would saynothing but that no one could be admitted.

  Meanwhile an exciting scene, though a brief one, was being enactedbehind that door. Just as the two parties were about to start on theirway to the altar, a carriage had driven up furiously, and from it hadalighted Mr. Barnes. He quickly entered the building, and wentstraightway into the vestry-room, brushing aside the man at the door.Once in the presence of the groom and his gentlemen attendants, heastonished them by saying:

  "Thank God, I am not too late."

  "Are you quite sure?" said Mr. Mitchel, with provoking calmness.

  "I have come here to stop this wedding," said the detective, a littleexcited.

  "You mean, to delay it. That you are doing now, as I should be on my wayto the altar to join my bride."

  "I tell you, I come to stop this wedding altogether, and----"

  "One moment, Mr. Barnes. There is no time to lose, and I do not wish youto speak too openly. Let me talk for you. You have reasons, which I canguess, for wishing me not to be married. Am I right?"

  "I have said as much."

  "If I can prove to you that you gain nothing by hindering this ceremony,will you allow it to proceed, and then act as you may please afterward,instead of now?"

  "Of course, but that is impossible."

  "Nothing is impossible, Mr. Barnes; read that if you please."

  Taking from his pocket a folded paper, he handed it to Mr. Barnes, whotook it nervously, read it, and looked up amazed.

  "This is an outrage, Mr. Mitchel, and----"

  "And you have given me your word not to further interfere at this time.If you will meet me at my hotel at two o'clock, I will answer whateverother demands you may have upon me. I think you know that you may trustme to keep the engagement. Now, gentlemen, we will proceed." Sayingwhich he and his friends filed out of the room and down the aisle of thechurch, much to the relief of the immense throng awaiting them, leavingMr. Barnes utterly discomfited. The ceremony then proceeded withoutfurther delay, and in half an hour Mr. and Mrs. Leroy Mitchel were takenin their carriage to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Mr. Barnes did not wait tosee them leave the Cathedral, but hurried away almost immediately afterhaving read the document which Mr. Mitchel had handed to him. This was acertificate of marriage dated the day before, and performed at theMayor's office. Thus, whatever reason the detective had for stopping themarriage, the telegram from Sefton had enabled Mr. Mitchel to once moreoutwit Mr. Barnes, by simply allowing a civil contract to antedate thereligious ceremony.