CHAPTER XX.
MR. RIDER MAKES AN ARREST.
While the festivities were in progress at Hazeldean, some incidents of a somewhat singular character were occurring in New York.
It will be remembered that Mr. Palmer and his son met Mrs. Montague for the first time at the reception given by Mrs. Merrill; also that their attention was attracted to a lady who wore a profusion of unusually fine diamonds—a Mrs. Vanderheck.
We know how Ray was introduced to her, and repeated her name as Vander_beck_, with an emphasis on the beck; how she started, changed color, and glanced at him curiously as he did so, and seemed strangely ill at ease while conversing with him afterward, and a little later abruptly took her leave.
The next day, the young man communicated these suspicious circumstances to the private detective whom his father had employed to look up his stolen diamonds, and from that time Mrs. Vanderheck had been under close surveillance by that shrewd official.
Mr. Rider was a very energetic man, and, by dint of adroit inquiries and observations, learned that she was a woman who devoted most of her time to social life—was very gay, very fond of dress and excitement of every kind. She did not, however, resemble in any way the Mrs. Vanderbeck who had conducted the robbery of the Palmer diamonds, although, he argued, she might easily enough be an accomplice.
The detective interviewed Doctor Wesselhoff, who was now as eager as any one to assist in the discovery of those who so imposed upon him, and obtained a minute description of the other woman who had arranged for Ray Palmer to become an inmate of his institution, and he thought that possibly by the aid of a clever disguise, Mrs. Vanderheck might have figured as Mrs. Walton, the pretended mother of the pretended monomaniac.
Consequently, energetic Mr. Rider had followed close upon her track, bound to discover her real character.
She resided in a fine brown-stone mansion up town; sported an elegant carriage and a spanking pair of bays, and, to all appearances, possessed an unlimited bank account.
She was sometimes attended on her drives by a gentleman, many years older than herself, who appeared to be something of an invalid, and who, as far as the detective could learn, was engaged in no business whatever.
These latter facts increased his suspicions, for the reason that the woman who had robbed Mr. Palmer had wished to submit her selections to the sanction of an invalid husband.
Disguised as a spruce young coachman, Mr. Rider managed to ingratiate himself with a pretty, but rather vain young servant-girl in Mrs. Vanderheck's employ, and by means of well-turned compliments, re-enforced now and then with some pretty gift, he managed to keep himself well posted regarding the mistress' movements and her social engagements, and then he diligently followed up his espionage by frequenting the many receptions and balls which she attended.
At these places she was always magnificently attired and seldom wore any ornaments except diamonds, of which she appeared to possess an endless store, and all were of great beauty and value.
It was at a Delmonico ball, which was given in honor of a person of royal descent, and on the Friday evening preceding Ray Palmer's visit to Hazeldean, that Mr. Rider found his plans ripe for action and accomplished his great coup de grâce.
He had learned, through the pretty servant-girl, that Mrs. Vanderheck was to grace the occasion with her presence and was to be attired in a costume of unusual richness and elegance—"with diamonds enough to blind you," the lively and voluble Fanny had boasted to her admirer.
Consequently the detective got himself up in elaborate style, obtained a ticket for the ball by some means best known to himself, and, when the festivities were at their height, slipped in upon the brilliant scene.
He was not long in "spotting" his prey, who was conspicuous in white brocaded velvet and white ostrich tips, while her person was literally ablaze with diamonds.
"Great Scott!" the man muttered, as he ran his keen eye over her gorgeous attire; "it is a mystery to me how any woman dare wear such a fortune upon her person; she is liable to be murdered any day. Why, she—Aha!"
His heart gave a sudden leap, and for a moment, as he afterward described his sensations, it seemed as if some one had struck him on the head with a club, for he actually saw stars and grew so dizzy and confused that he could scarcely stand; for—in the woman's ears he caught sight of a gleaming pair of crescents!
He soon recovered himself, however, and took a second look. He had, as we know, been looking for those peculiar ornaments for more than three years, and now he had found them, as he had always believed he should, upon a gay woman of fashion in the midst of fashionable admirers.
It did not take him long to decide upon his course of action, and he was now again the cool and collected detective, although the fierce glitter in his eyes betrayed some relentless purpose in his mind.
He made his way quietly into a corner, where he stood covertly watching the brilliant woman, and comparing her appearance with a description that was written in cipher upon some tablets which he took from his pocket.
"'Very attractive, about twenty-eight or thirty years, rather above medium height, somewhat inclined toward embonpoint, fair complexion, blue eyes, short, curling red hair,'—Hum!" he softly interposed at this point, "she answers very well to all except the red hair; but drop a red wig over her light-colored pate, tint her eyebrows and lashes with the same color, and I'll wager my badge against a last year's hat we'd have the Bently widow complete. There can be no doubt about the crescents, though, and that cross on her bosom looks wonderfully like the one that Palmer described to me. I suppose she thought no one would be on the lookout for it here, and she could safely wear it with all the rest, I always said the same woman put up both jobs," he interposed, with a satisfied chuckle. "Guess I'll take a nearer look at the stones, though, before I do anything desperate."
He put up his tablets, and began to move slowly about the rooms; but his eagle eye never once left the form of the woman in white brocaded velvet.
Three hours later, Mrs. Vanderheck, wrapped in an elegant circular of crimson satin, bordered with ermine, and attended by her maid and a dignified policeman as a body-guard, swept down the grand stair-way leading from the ball-room to the street, on her way to her carriage.
As she stepped out across the pavement and was about to enter the vehicle, a quiet, gentlemanly looking person approached her and saluted her respectfully.
"Madame—Mrs. Vander_beck_," with an intentional emphasis on the last syllable, "you are my prisoner!"
The woman gave a violent start as she caught the name, and darted a keen glance of inquiry at him, all of which Mr. Rider was quick to note.
Then she drew herself up haughtily.
"Sir, I do not know you, and my name is not Vander_beck_; you have made a mistake," she said, icily.
"I have made no mistake. You are the woman I have been looking for, for more than three years, whether you spell your name with a b, an h, or in a different way altogether; and I repeat—you are my prisoner."
Mr. Rider laid his hand firmly but respectfully on her arm, as he ceased speaking, to enforce his meaning.
She shook him off impatiently.
"What is the meaning of this strange proceeding?" she demanded, indignantly; then turning to the policeman who attended her, she continued, in a voice of command: "I appeal to you for protection against such insolence."
"How is this, Rider?" now inquired the officer, who recognized the detective, and was astonished beyond measure by this unexpected arrest.
"She has on her person diamonds that I have been looking for, for over three years, and I cannot afford to let them slip through my fingers after such a hunt as that," the detective quietly explained.
"It is false!" the woman stoutly and indignantly asserted. "I wear no jewelry that is not my own property. Everything I have was either given to me or purchased with my husband's money."
"I trust you will be able to prove the truth of your assertions, madame," Mr. Rider quietly returned. "If you can do so, you will, of course, have no further trouble. But I must do my duty. I have been employed to search for a pair of diamond crescents which properly belong to a person in Chicago. I have seen such a pair in your ears to-night. You also wear a cross like one that I am searching for, and I shall be obliged to take you into custody until the matter can be properly investigated."
Mrs. Vanderheck was evidently very much startled and upset by this information, yet she behaved with remarkable fortitude, considering the trying circumstances.
"What am I to do?" she inquired, again appealing to the policeman attending her. "The crescents he mentions are mine—I bought them almost three years ago in Boston. Of course, I know that I must prove my statement, and I think I can if you will give me time, for I believe I still have the bill of sale in my possession. I will look it up, and if"—turning to the detective—"you will call upon me some time to-morrow you shall have it."
Mr. Rider smiled, for the unsophisticated suggestion amused him immensely.
"I cannot lose sight of you, madame," he said, courteously. "What you have said may be true; I shall be glad, on your account, if it proves so; but my duty to others must be rigidly enforced, and so I am obliged to arrest you."
"But I cannot submit to an arrest; you surely do not mean that I—a woman in my position—am to be imprisoned on the charge of theft!" exclaimed the woman, growing deadly white.
"The law is no respecter of persons or position, madame," laconically responded the detective.
"What can I do?" Mrs. Vanderheck cried, in a tone of despair.
"Rider, I am afraid you have made a mistake," the policeman now remarked, in a low tone; "the woman is all right. I've acted as escort for her on such occasions as these for the last two years."
The detective looked astonished and somewhat perplexed at this statement.
If Mrs. Vanderheck had led a respectable life in New York for two years, and was as well known to this officer as he represented, he also began to fear that he might have made a mistake.
"You are willing to defer the arrest if she can furnish ample security for her appearance when wanted?" the policeman asked, after a moment of thought.
"Ye-es; but responsible parties must vouch for her," Mr. Rider answered, with some hesitation.
The woman seized the suggestion with avidity.
"Oh, then, I have a dozen friends who will serve me," she cried, eagerly. "Come back to the ball-room with me and you shall have security to any amount." and with a haughty air she turned back and entered the brilliantly lighted building which she had recently left.
The policeman conducted them into a small reception-room, and Mrs. Vanderheck sent her card, with a few lines penciled on it, to a well-known banker, who was among the guests in the ball-room, requesting a few moments' personal conversation with him.
The gentleman soon made his appearance, and was greatly astonished and no less indignant upon being informed of what had occurred.
But he readily understood that the matter in hand must be legally settled before the lady could be fully acquitted. He therefore unhesitatingly gave security for her to the amount required by the detective, but politely refused to receive, as a guarantee of her integrity, the costly ornaments which Mrs. Vanderheck offered him then and there for the service so kindly rendered.
She, then, without a murmur, delivered over to the detective, in the presence of her friend, the policeman, and her maid, the contested crescents and cross, and was then allowed to take her departure, with her attendants, without further ceremony.
Early the next morning the following message went flashing over the
Western wires to Chicago, addressed thus:
"To JUSTIN CUTLER, ESQ.:—Crescents found. Come at once to identify.
Bring bogus ones.
"RIDER."
The detective then sought Mr. Palmer, but upon being informed that he was out of town, and would not return until the early part of the coming week, he related to Ray what had happened on the previous evening, and advised him to communicate the fact as soon as possible, to his father, and notify him that an examination would take place at ten o'clock on the following Tuesday.
Ray had already telegraphed, in answer to his father's message, that he would come to Hazeldean on Monday for the ball, and at first he thought he would make no change in his plans. The news was good news, and would keep for a day or two, he told himself.
But the detective's enthusiasm over the arrest was so contagious, he found himself wishing that his father could also know what had occurred.
He had an engagement for that evening—which was Saturday—so he could not go to Hazeldean that day, and finally contented himself by commissioning Mr. Rider to drop Mr. Palmer a message, giving him a hint of the arrest, and then arranged to go himself to explain more fully, by the Sunday evening train.
It almost seemed as if fate had purposely arranged it thus, that he might find Mona alone as he did, to declare his love, and win in return the confession of her affection for him.
The moment his father entered the house and met him, on his return from the evening service at the village, he realized that some great change had come over him; he was very different from the depressed, anxious-eyed son whom he had left only a few days previous.
He could hardly attribute it entirely to the news of the arrest of the supposed thief of the diamonds, and yet he could think of nothing else, for he firmly believed that Walter Dinsmore's niece had left New York after her uncle's death, and he had no reason to believe that Ray had found trace of her.
But whatever had caused the change—whatever had served to bring back the old light to his eyes, the old smile to his lips, and all his former brightness and energy of manner, he was grateful for it, and he hailed the result with a delight that made itself manifest in the hearty grip of his hand and his eager-toned:
"How are you, Ray, my boy? I am glad to see you."