CHAPTER VIII.
MR. RIDER BECOMES ACTIVE AGAIN.
After hanging the dress again in its place, Mona quickly finished her work in the room, then went back to the girl whom she had left sleeping in one of the adjoining chambers, and awoke her.
She had slept nearly an hour, and, though Mona knew that she needed many hours more of rest, she was sure that she would be the better for what she had secured.
"You are very good, miss," she said, gratefully; "the pain is all gone from my tooth, and I feel ever so much better."
"Your sleep has quieted your nerves; but I advise you to see a dentist and have the tooth attended to," Mona returned; then hastened away to her room, where she dressed herself for the street and went out.
Mrs. Montague had been out for a long time driving with some friends.
Mona inquired of an elderly, respectable policeman, whom she found standing upon a corner, where she should go to find a detective.
He directed her to the headquarters of the force, although he looked surprised at the question coming from such a source, and she repaired thither at once.
As she entered the office, a quiet-looking man, who was the only occupant at that time, arose and came forward, bowing respectfully; but he also appeared astonished to see a young and beautiful girl in such a place.
"I wish to see a detective," said Mona, flushing hotly beneath the man's curious glance.
"The men connected with this office are all out just at this moment, miss. I am a stranger, and only sitting here for a half-hour or so, just to oblige the officer in charge," the man courteously replied.
"I am very sorry," said the young girl, with a sigh, "for I have come upon business which ought to be attended to immediately."
"I am a detective, miss, although I do not belong here. I'm an officer from New York; but if you see fit to tell me your business, perhaps I might advise you," said the officer, kindly, for he saw that she was greatly troubled.
"You are from New York!" Mona exclaimed, eagerly; "then perhaps it will be better for me to tell you, rather than a St. Louis detective; for the robbery happened in New York."
The detective's eyes flashed with sudden interest at this.
"Ah!" was all he said, however, and this very quietly.
"Yes, it was a diamond robbery. A dress worn by one of the persons connected with it was torn; a small piece was entirely cut out of it. I have found the dress; I have fitted the piece into the rent, and now I want the woman who owns it to be arrested and examined," Mona explained, in low, excited tones, but very comprehensively.
"Ah!" said the detective again, in the same quiet tone; "you have reference to the Palmer robbery."
Mona lifted a pair of very astonished eyes to his face.
"Yes," she responded, breathlessly; "but how did you know?"
"Because I am looking after that case. I am in St. Louis upon that very business," replied the man, with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Are you Detective Rider?" questioned the young girl, wonderingly, and trembling with excitement.
Her companion smiled.
"What do you know about Detective Rider?" he inquired. Then, as she flushed and seemed somewhat embarrassed, he continued: "And who are you, if you please?"
"I am—I am acquainted with Raymond Palmer," Mona answered, evasively; "he has told me about the robbery and—"
"Ah! yes. I understand," interposed the quick-witted officer, as he comprehended the situation. "But sit down and tell me the whole story as briefly as possible, and I can then judge what will be best to do."
He moved a chair forward for her, then sat down himself, where he could watch her closely, as she talked, and Mona related all that we already know regarding the two people whom she had seen upon the street-car, together with all that followed in connection with the discovery of the rent in the gray cloth dress, the sending for the fragment that Ray had preserved, and which had fitted so exactly into the tear.
The detective listened with the closest attention, his small, keen eyes alone betraying the intense interest which her recital excited.
When she had concluded, he drew forth a set of tablets and made notes of several items, after which he said:
"Now, Miss —— What shall I call you? Whom shall I ask for at the hotel, if I should wish to see you again upon this business?"
"Miss Richards. I am traveling with a Mrs. Montague, of New York," Mona replied.
"Well, then, Miss Richards, you go back to your hotel, and of course conduct yourself as if you had nothing unusual on your mind; but hold yourself in readiness to produce that important bit of cloth, if I should call upon you to do so within the next few hours. By the way," he added, with sudden thought, "if you have it with you, I might as well take a look at it."
Mona took the paper containing it from her purse and gave it to him.
"You are sure this matches the dress?" he asked, examining it closely.
"We don't want to make any awkward mistakes, you know."
"It is identical. I believe that every thread in this piece can be matched by a corresponding thread in the garment," the fair girl asserted, so positively that he seemed to be entirely satisfied.
He returned the piece to her and then arose in a brisk, business-like way, which told that he was ready for action.
Mona also rose, and, bidding him a quiet good-day, went quickly out of the office, and hastened back to the hotel.
* * * * *
In order to understand more fully some of the incidents related, we shall have to go back a few days.
It was a bright, clear morning when a rather rough-looking, yet not unattractive person, entered a large jewelry establishment located on one of the principal streets of St. Louis.
He might have been thirty-five years of age, for there was a sprinkling of silver among his coarse, intensely black hair, which he wore quite long, and also in his huge mustache and beard. His face was bronzed from exposure; there were crow's feet about his eyes, and two deep wrinkles between his brows, and his general appearance indicated that he had seen a good deal of the rough side of life.
He wore a coarse though substantial suit of clothes, which hung rather loosely upon him; a gray flannel shirt with a turn-over collar, which was fastened at the throat by a flashy necktie, rather carelessly knotted; a red cotton handkerchief was just visible in one of his pockets; there were coarse, clumsy boots on his feet, and he wore a wide-brimmed, slouch hat.
He inquired of the clerk, who came forward to wait upon him, if he could see the "boss of the consarn," as he had a little private business to transact with him.
The clerk smiled slightly at his broad vernacular, as he replied that he would speak to the proprietor, and presently an elderly gentleman appeared from an inner office, and inquired the nature of the man's business.
"I'm a miner," he said. "I'm just home from Australia, where I've been huntin' diamonds for the last ten years. I've made a pretty good haul, and sold most of 'em in London on my way home. I had a few dandy ones cut there, though, to bring back to my gal; but—but—well, to tell the plain truth," he said, with some confusion, "she's gone back on me; she couldn't wait for me, so married another fellar; and now I want to sell the stones. D'ye want to buy?"
There was something rather attractive, as well as amusing, in the man's frankness, and the merchant smiled, as he kindly remarked that he would examine the stones.
The miner thereupon pulled out a small leather bag from one of the pockets of his trousers, unwound the strong thong at its throat, and rattled out upon the counter several loose glittering diamonds of various sizes.
The merchant could hardly repress a cry of astonishment, for they were remarkable for their purity and brilliancy, while there were two among the collection of unusual size.
He examined them critically, and took plenty of time about it, while the miner leaned indifferently against the counter, his hands in his pockets, and gazed absently out of the window.
"What do you value these stones at?" the merchant finally inquired, as he removed the glass from his eye and turned to the man.
"Wall, I don't suppose it would make much difference what my price might be," he drawled; "I know they're about as good ones as anybody would care to see, and you know about what you'd be willin' to give."
"Yes; but I would like to know what value you put upon them before I make an offer," responded Mr. Cohen, shrewdly.
"Wall, before I found out about the gal, I wouldn't a' sold 'em at any price," was the rather gloomy response, "fur I'd promised 'em to her, ye know; but now—so's I get what's reasonable, I don't care much what becomes on 'em. What'll ye give? I'll trust to yer honor in the matter."
The jeweler had been watching the man closely while he was speaking, although he appeared to be thinking deeply of the purchase of the gems.
"I—do not think that I am prepared to set a price on them just at this moment," he at length thoughtfully remarked. "As far as I can judge, they are very fine stones and well cut; still, I am not an expert, although a dealer in such things, and I should like to submit them to one before making you an offer."
"All right," was the hearty and unhesitating reply, "that's fair, and I'm agreeable. Bring on your expert."
"Are you going to be in the city long?" asked the merchant.
"Wall, no; I didn't calkerlate on staying any longer'n I could turn the stones into money," the man said. "My old mother lives up to Brownsville, and I thought of goin' up to make her a little visit—han't seen her fur ten years. Then I'm going back to the mines, since I han't no reason to hang around these parts now," with a bitter emphasis on the last word.
"This is Tuesday," said Mr. Cohen, reflectively; "the expert to whom I wish to subject the stones is out of town, but will be here to-morrow evening; suppose you come in again on Thursday morning."
"All right," responded the miner, as he began to gather up his glittering pebbles, though there was a look of disappointment in his eyes. "I'd ruther have got rid of 'em, fur they're kind o' ticklish things to be carrying about. Wonder if I couldn't leave 'em in your safe till Thursday?"
"Certainly, if you are willing to trust them with me," said Mr. Cohen, looking rather surprised at the man's confidence in him: "still you would have to do so on your own responsibility. I should not be willing to be held accountable for them in case of a robbery."
"Wall, then, perhaps I'd better take them along," the miner returned, as he tied the mouth of his leather pouch, and shoved it into one of his pockets.
Then drawing forth a plug of tobacco from another, he bit off a generous quid, remarking, as he did so:
"I'll be on hand Thursday mornin', I reckon. Good-day."
The merchant politely returned his salutation, and watched him thoughtfully after he shut the door and went swaggering down the street, looking in at every window he passed, in regular country fashion.
A few moments after, the merchant took his hat and also went out.
A few hours later, Mr. Amos Palmer received the following dispatch:
"Send expert and detective at once to examine suspicious stones.
EZRA COHEN."
Ezra Cohen had for years had business relations with Amos Palmer, going to New York several times every twelve months to purchase diamonds and other jewels, for the St. Louis trade.
On his last visit thither Mr. Palmer had mentioned the bold robbery, which had resulted in his losing such valuable diamonds, and had described some of the most costly stones, saying, that possibly they might some time fall into his hands.
Mr. Cohen was not sure, but he was impressed that the two larger stones of the collection which the miner had brought to sell him, on that morning, resembled, in some points, the ones described by Mr. Palmer; and so he thought it worth while to have the matter proved, if possible, although he felt some compunctions regarding his suspicions, because the miner had appeared so frank and ingenuous.
If he had only left the stones with him as he had proposed doing, the matter of testing them could have been attended to during his absence. He hoped that he had not acted too hastily in telegraphing to Mr. Palmer; but he had done as his best judgment had prompted, and could only await the result with patience.
It was with no little nervousness, however, that he awaited Thursday morning, especially after receiving a reply to his message to the effect that "Tom Rider, the detective, and a diamond expert, would arrive on an early train of that day."
They did so, and presented themselves at Ezra Cohen's establishment soon after the store was opened for business that morning.
The merchant was already there, awaiting them, and received the two gentlemen in his private office, where they held a confidential conversation regarding the matter in hand.
The expert was quite confident, after listening to Mr. Cohen's description of the diamonds, that they would prove to be the ones they were seeking, but the detective was not quite so hopeful; he had been disappointed so many times of late that he looked upon the dark side, while he was somewhat skeptical about the supposed miner making his appearance again.
About nine o'clock, however, the man swaggered into the store, an enormous quid of tobacco inside his cheek.
"He has never been in Australia," said Detective Rider, in a low tone, but with sudden energy, as he and his companion watched him approach the counter, where Mr. Cohen was quietly examining a case of watches.
"Wall," he remarked, in his broad, drawling tone, "got yer expert on hand this mornin'? I'd like to close up this 'ere business before I go up to Brownsville."
"Yes, I think I can settle about the diamonds to-day," Mr. Cohen politely remarked. "James," to a clerk, "please ask Mr. Knowlton to step this way."
James disappeared, and presently an elderly gentleman in spectacles issued from the private office.
"Mr. Knowlton," said the merchant, "this is the man who wished to dispose of some diamonds. Will you examine them, and give your opinion of their value?"
The miner darted a quick, searching look at the new-comer; but apparently the man was intent only upon the business in hand.
Drawing forth his leather pouch, the miner untied it and emptied its contents upon the square of black velvet which had been laid upon the show-case to receive them.
Mr. Knowlton examined each stone with careful scrutiny through a powerful glass, never once speaking until he had looked the collection through.
"They are quite valuable," he remarked, as he laid the last one down. "These," indicating the two large ones, "are especially so; you have been very fortunate, sir, to make such a collection, for there is not one poor one in the lot."
The miner gave a slight start at this observation, and the color deepened on his face; but he replied, with his habitual frankness:
"Well, I've had poor ones—plenty on 'em; but these were saved for a special purpose," and he winked knowingly at Mr. Cohen. Then he added, as he shot a sweeping look around the store and out through the window upon the sidewalk: "Jest give us their value in round figgers, and well soon settle this matter."
The expert quietly made a memorandum upon a card and laid it before the jeweler, then immediately withdrew to the private office.
"Well?" demanded Tom Rider, his keen little eyes gleaming with repressed excitement, as Mr. Knowlton shut the door after him.
"The two large stones belong to Amos Palmer, the others I never saw before, and you'd better hook your man as soon as possible, because he is beginning to smell powder," said the gentleman, in a low tone.
"I'm ready for him," muttered the detective, as he grabbed his hat, crushed it upon his head, and vanished out of the back door with a good deal more of elasticity in his step than when he had entered.
Going around to the front entrance he sauntered into the store and up to the counter, where Mr. Cohen was apparently trying to drive a close bargain for the Australian(?) diamonds, but really waiting for some sign from the men closeted in his office.
He paused at the entrance of the new-comer, bowed gravely, and politely inquired:
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"I'm sorry to give you any trouble," the detective returned, in quick, sharp tones, "but it is my duty to arrest this man! You are my prisoner, sir," he concluded, laying his hand on the shoulder of the supposed miner.
A startled oath broke from the man's lips, and he made an agile spring for the door.
But the detective was too quick for him, and deftly placed a pair of twisters about his wrists, with such force as to wring a howl of agony from him.
"None of that, my fine fellow," Mr. Rider said, sternly, as he slyly tried to slip his other hand underneath his coat, and he gave the twisters another forcible turn. "Just you let that revolver alone."
"All right," said the miner, apparently yielding; "but what's the charge? Ye can't expect a fellar to submit very tamely to this kind o' thing without knowing what he's nabbed for."
"I arrest you for robbery. These diamonds are stolen property," was the brief reply of the detective.
"You don't say!" drawled the man, in a tone of sarcastic wonder. "Perhaps ye'll be good enough to prove what ye assert."
The detective could but admire the cool effrontery of the fellow, but he quietly responded:
"It has already been proved—those large diamonds have just been identified."
"Ah!"
The miner said no more, but quietly submitted to have a pair of handcuffs snapped on his wrists.
The diamonds were secured, and the prisoner was marched off to the station-house, while Ezra Cohen gave utterance to a sigh of relief over the fact that he had made no mistake.