"I will not hear of such an indignity to my guests," at once ejaculated Mr. Van Rawlston. "Search people in my own house! No, sir. I will willingly pay for the lost gem rather than do so."
"You are quite right," said the detective, keenly eying Mr. Thauret, "I am sure that it would be useless."
"As you please," said Mr. Thauret, and with a satirical smile he bowed and joined the group around Miss Remsen.
Mr. Barnes told Mr. Van Rawlston that it would be useless for him to remain longer, and that he would depart. He did not do so, however, until he had assured himself that Mr. Mitchel was not in the house. He went to the door, and found that the boy who had been told to guard it had been absent looking at the tableaux when the confusion occurred, so that he did not know whether any one had left the house or not. He therefore departed in disgust.
"That fellow Mitchel," thought he, as he walked rapidly down the avenue,—"that fellow is an artist. To think of the audacity of waiting till the very moment when his wager would be lost, and then committing the robbery in such a manner that a hundred people will be able to testify that it occurred within the limited period. Meanwhile there is an excellent alibi for him. Sick in a hotel in Philadelphia! Bah! Isn't there one man that I can depend upon?"
At Forty-second Street he took the elevated road, and in twenty minutes he was at his office. Here he found the spy who had followed Mr. Mitchel to Philadelphia.
"Well," said he, angrily, "what are you doing here?"
"I am sure that Mitchel has returned to New York. I came on hoping to catch up with him, and at least to warn you."