"I know nothing of that woman, and must wish you a very good morning," with which he deliberately began to walk from the room. Mr. Barnes for a moment was nonplussed, but saw that he must act quickly or lose all chance of gaining any information from this man.
"One moment, Mr. Neuilly," he said; "you certainly would not refuse to help me convict her murderer." As he expected, the last word brought him back.
"Murderer? Did you mean to intimate that she has been murdered?" Saying this he stopped for a second, and then slowly returned and sat down again.
"Rose Montalbon was murdered in New York some months ago. I believe that I am on the track of the guilty man. Will you aid me?"
"That depends upon circumstances. You say the woman is dead. That alters my position in this matter very much. I had reasons, good ones to me, for refusing to converse with you on this subject. But if the woman is dead, the objections vanish." Mr. Barnes thought he understood. Here was one of those who had been ruled by fear, as Chambers had said.
"What I want from you, Mr. Neuilly, is very simple. You either can or you cannot give me the information that I wish. Did you know a man named Leroy Mitchel who was at one time this woman's husband?"
"I knew him very well. He was a scoundrel of the deepest dye, for all that he had the manners of the polished gentleman."
"Do you know what became of him?"
"No; he left this city suddenly and has never returned."
"Did you know little Rose Mitchel?"