"From which you deduce that they followed the jewels?" said Mr. Mitchel.
"Of course. The man and woman separated here to avoid suspicion. By a trick the woman obtained possession of apartments in the very house where your intended lived, whilst Molitaire stopped at the Hoffman, which of course is very near your own hotel. As soon as you went to Boston they followed and registered at the same hotel. You obtained the jewels from the custom-house, and they entered your room and robbed you during your absence. Your theory of the murderer's actions after the jewels were recovered by you, is probably correct. He went back to hunt for them, hoping that she had not placed them in the satchel, or rather that she had taken them out of it, since you yourself placed them there. I think there is no point left unexplained."
"Pardon me," said Mr. Thauret, "I think you are wrong. You have not to my mind quite connected this man—what did you call him? Jean Molitaire, was it not? Well, I do not see that you have traced his hand to the crime."
"I think that I have," said Mr. Barnes.
"You do not make it clear to me," said Mr. Thauret, as coolly as though discussing some question in which he had but a passing interest. "You say that your Montalbon woman noticed this Molitaire when she sold her diamonds. Later that both were missing from Paris. The woman turned up in New York, but how do you prove that Molitaire did not go to—let us say Russia?"
"No," said Mr. Barnes, "he did not go to Russia. Suppose that I should tell you that I ferreted out the fact that this name Molitaire was but an alias, and that the man's true name was Montalbon? Then when we remember that the woman's name had been cut from all her garments is that not significant?"
This speech made a mild sensation, but Mr. Thauret remained unmoved. He replied calmly:
"All things are significant—how do you interpret this fact, supposing that you could prove it?"
"This Molitaire was really the dead woman's husband. They quarrelled many years ago, and she went to New Orleans where she kept a gambling-house, having learned the trade from him. When they met again in Paris she recognized him. Then when the fellow conceived the idea of following the jewels, it suited his purpose to affect a reconciliation so that he might use the woman as a tool. After the murder it would be to his interest to hide the name of Montalbon by cutting out the marks on the woman's clothing."
"Pardon my pursuing the argument," said Mr. Thauret, "but I find it entertaining. You surprise me, Mr. Barnes, at the ready way in which you read men's actions. Only, are you sure you are right? Suppose for instance that the woman had cut out the marks herself long before, at some time, when she was using an alias, then your fact would lose some of its significance, would it not? Circumstantial evidence is so difficult to read, you see! Then having lost that link, where do you prove Molitaire or Montalbon guilty? Being the woman's husband is no crime in itself."