very much astonished. Mr. Thauret appeared a trifle
nervous. He placed one hand over the top of his claret glass, and let it
rest there a moment, after first having taken a sip from it.

"You all recall the fact that I was sick in Philadelphia," continued Mr.
Mitchel, "at the time of the Ali Baba festival. I flatter myself that
that was the most artistic thing that I have done throughout this whole
affair. Any one seeing me would have been satisfied that I was truly
ill, yet, in point of fact, my cough was brought on by drugs
administered to me by my physician at my express desire, and for
purposes which I had explained to him. I guessed that I had been
followed to Philadelphia, and took care that I should not be too closely
watched, as Mr. Barnes knows. Yet I expected that after the affair, Mr.
Barnes himself would come to Philadelphia to see me, and my
artificially-produced illness was to baffle him. But I am anticipating
events. After the train robbery the woman was murdered. By what seemed
an odd chance she was in the same house where my wife then lived. I knew
that I had been followed from the theatre to that house on the night of
the murder. I knew that other circumstances pointed strongly to my
guilt. But I had the advantage over the detective, for I knew that the
man who had stolen the jewels from the woman, not finding them when he
returned to New Haven, must have been furious. Judging the woman by
himself, he would suppose that at least it was possible that she had
taken them from the satchel herself. Then on that slim chance might he
not have returned to the woman, and, admitting the theft of the satchel,
have endeavored to make her confess that she still had the jewels?
Failing in this, might he not either in a fit of anger or to prevent her
from 'peaching,' as they call it, have cut her throat?"

"You are wrong there, Mr. Mitchel," said the detective. "The woman was
killed whilst she slept. There was no struggle."

"Even so, we can imagine the sneak going into the house and killing her
that he might search for the gems undisturbed, and also to rid himself
of a companion for whom he no longer had any need. At least, that was
the view that I took of it, and, more than that, I felt convinced that I
knew the man."

At this moment, Mr. Thauret nervously reached forth his hand towards his
glass of wine, but before he could get it Mr. Barnes had taken it up and
drained it to the bottom. Mr. Thauret seemed livid