The Amber Scarf Pin.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1813, 18 July 1891, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Amber Scarf Pin.

About six months ago I left England for France in a singularly happy mocd. I had just become engaged to a charming girl, and the object of my visit to Paris was to parchase, as presents to my bride, a quantity of those articles so delightful to the fair sex which Paris alone produces. We had had an exoellent crossing, and, after a hasty supper at Calais, I had got into a firßt-class carriage in the express to Paris. At Amiens a French gentleman entered the train and seated himself directly opposite me. He was in a talkative humor, and it was not long before we were engaged in conversation. Five minutes later he had introduced himself to me as the Marquis de Kergaradec, and it was not long before I was fully acquainted with bis opinions on the general variety of Parisian topics. He was going to Paris, he told me, to be present at the Prix dv Jockey club. " That is to say," he corrected himself, "I am not going to Paris at all, but shall get out at Chantilly." " I thought Shit the express did not stop there," I said. "When one is a big shareholder," he laughed. Then I noticed that the marquis' expression suddenly changed, and saw that he was staring at me in a manner that was almost offensive. His eyes were fixed on my collar. While I was wondering whether anything in my linen was exciting the curiosity and interest of this carefully attired old gentleman, he bent forward and Baid, in a quiet and altered tone of voice : "I beg your pardon, sir, but what a curious scarf pin that is that you are wearing. Would you mind showing it to me?" I willingly complied with his request, took the pin out of my tie, and handed it to him. He examined it carefully, turning it round and round. At last he handed it back to me with a curt : " Thank you." "It is a curious pin, is it not?" I said, mystefied by his change of manner. But he made no answer. Finding it impossible to get a word out of him, I shrugged my shoulders and settled down to my thoughts. At Cbantilly the train stopped and the guard came to the door to inform the marquis, with much respect, that he had reached his destination. " I have changed my mind," said the old gentleman, " and shall goon to Paris." When we reached Paris I jumped into a cab and drove at once to the Grand Hotel; As I was leaving the bureau of the hotel, where I bad registered, to go to the room assigned to me, I met the old gentleman again. He Btared hard at me as I passed, first at my face and then at my pin. But I had no inclination to trouble my head as to the reasons of his eccentricity, and dismissed him once more from my mind. At ten o'clock I rose, dressed, and after the inevitable cafe an /aiV-that miserable substitute for an English breakfast— started out for the boulevards to visit the shops I had determined to pationize. As I passed under the poroh of the hotel a man laid his hand on my shoulder, aad thrust a paper under my eyes. •' It is a warrant of arrest. lam ordered to secure your person." " lam perfectly ignorant ol your Uwb," I said . What am Itodo ?" II To follow me." . The agent conducted me to a neighboring police station, showed the superintendent his warrant, had me searched and my pockets emptied, and locked me up in a cell. Here I remained for an hour, when I was fetched out and hustled into the " salad basket," as the French call their "Blick Maria "equipage. The " Black Maria" took me to the depot gaol, where I was once more locked up; It was four o'clock in the afternoon when I was fetched by two gardes de Paris to undergo my preliminary examination. The magistrate charged with the instruction of my " affair " asked me my name, age and profession, and received my answers with credulous indifference. He then opened a drawer in the table at which he was sitting, took out an object, and laying it before me, said : "Do you recognise this jewel ?" " Certainly," I answered ; "it is my scarf pin." " Can you tell me when and how this pin came into your possession 7" " It's a ourions fact," I added, smiling at the judge, " but true. I have no idea where that pin comes from. A few days ago, in turning over the contents of an old portmanteau, I found this pin. I did not care very much 'or its style, and can only account for my wearing it by the fact that I dressed in a very great hurry on the evening that I left London." " Perhaps you know when and how you came into possession of this book?" said the magistrate, producing a volume and laying ■it before me. It was an old copy of the '' Memoirs of Abbe de Croisy," whioh I had brought over to Paris with me, and had left in my valise in the hotel, " Yes," I said. " I picked it up on a bookstall en the Quais des Grands-Augustine about seven years ago. It—-" " About seven years ago ?'' Baid the magis- j trate, slowly, as if to give his scrivener time to get my answer written down. " Where were you living in Paris seven yeats ago?" '• I don't remember. It was some hotel in the Latin Quarter." " What were you doing ?" " I wa« trying my hand at belles-letters." , The magistrate here rose and touched a ,bell. To the ushier who answered his summons ne gave the order to introduce the iMarquis de Kergnradec. It was the old gentleman who bad been -my travelling companion that morning. "Monsieur le " marquis," said the magistrate, " do you recognise this pin ?" " I do. It is the one which belonged to my late brother, the Comte de Kergaradec, He brought this stone from China and had it mounted in the Rue la Paix. I recognised it all the more readily inasmuch as the settine, which is by no means a common one, was executed from a design I gave him." •' And tbiß book?" "As certainly. That book belonged to the count. On the fly-leaf is a dedication from the abbe to Madame de Poranouc, our ancestor in the time of Louis XV. Beside, the Kerparadec arms are upon the cover." " Quite satisfactory. These two articles were among the contents of the valise stolen from the count, your brother, at the hotel in Senlis on the night he was murdered ?" " They were." " Well,' then, all I have to ask you now is to sign the paper on whioh my greffier has written my questions and your answers." The marquis signed and departed, with a bow to the judge and a withering glance at me. " What's all this nonsense ?" I said, when the door had closed on tbe old gentleman. •' I am here to question," said the magistrate, "not yon.' '* You might at least tell me of what I am accused." i " Of the wilful murder of Count Louis de Kergaradec in the hotel of the Banning Stag at Senlis on the night September 12, 1881, and of the robbery of his valise, which contained, among other valuables, the two articles found in your passession." I burst out laughing. '• Nothing elße ? " I said. "Not that I know of," said the magistrate. " I must ask yon to sign this paper after reading it. It is our conversation just now." I signed, and as I was leaving the room the magistrate added in a most paternal tone: "Yes, just try and remember how that amber pin came into your possession. It

will really be worth your while to account for it." That evening I was transferred from the depot to Mazas gaol. The first queition the magistrate asked me on tbe following morning waß : " What were you doing at Senlis on the night of September 12, 1881 ?" " I don't recollect having been there at all in that year." •' Do you deny ever having been in Senlis at all, then?" "No. Formerly I often used to pass through it while exploring the forest of Chantilly, and now that I come to think of it, 1 did sleep there one night when I missed the train." " Was it in the month of September ?" "Yes. Now I remember. It would be the tenth, eleventh or twelfth. My birthday is on the ninth of September, and I had received a present of five pounds that year from an uncle of mine which I spent on an excursion in tbe forest." " Very good. It is well to be frank. As a matter of fact, it was on the twelfth, as we have learned by examining the hotel woman's register for that year." A witness was then introduced in the person of Madame Perrin, the proprietress of the Running Stag Inn. She recognized me at once as one of her lodgers on that night, and her testimony was confirmed by that of an old servant of hers, who had shown me to my room. After these had Baid their say, the magistrate proceeded to examine me as follows : " You left the hotel on the morning of the thirteenth, and afterward disappeared. Where did you go ?" "I stayed in Paris a weak and then went to London, where I have lived since." 11 Well, and about that pin ? Have you remembered how you got it?" "I have been cudgelling my brains all night on the subject, but I cannot remember." 41 It is nnfortunate," he said. "In fact a number of unfortunate circumstances are against yon. By the way, what has become of Pierre Bastide ?" he asked abruptly. " Pierre Bastide ? I never beard that name before." " Yes, Baßtide. The man who was in the hotel the same night that you were, and who ie suspected to be your accomplice." 11 Do you re»lly think, Monsieur le Juge," I said, " that if I had murdered this count to rob him I would carry about on my person in prominence evidence against myself ? I know nothing about this murder. I never heard of it. I slept soundly all that night, and went back to Paris at five in the morning, and passed the time that I remained here in the Hotel des Grand-Augustine. 1 am a respectable man, and whatever I have I owe to my industry and good fortune." 11 Your statement will be tested? Meanwhile let me put before you the position in which you stand. I must warn you that it is a very serious one. On the tenth of September,.lßßl, the Count Louis de Kergaradec, an eccentric old gentlemau, arrived at the Running Stag Hotel. His valise, beside a change of linen, contained a certain quantity of bank notes and a few of the antiquarian treasures of the count. He was a great collector of curios of all sorts. On the eleventh a man passing by the name of Pierre Bastide, and describing himself as a cafe waiter, came to the hotel and took the room at the top of the house. On the twelfth you came, «nd after inspecting several rooms insisted on having the one adjoining that in the occupation of the count. You refused supper and went to bed at a rsmarkably early hour. Tbe next day you left tbe hotel hurriedly at five in the morning, while it was still dark. At eight o'clock Bastide came down to breakfast, eat quietly, paid his biil.and went away with his knapsack on his back. At eleven o'clock the woman of the house went to wake the count, but was unable to do so. The woman, seriously alarmed, had the door broken down, and found the old gentleman lying dead in his bed, with his temple fractured. All the valuables contained in bis valise had disappeared. Suspicion immediately attached itself to Bastide and to you. You were both searched for by the police, but in vain, when by the merest hazard the other morning the brother of the victim recognised tbe count's pin in your crav&t. You will admit that there is at least reasonable ground for suspicion. By the way, how did yon get the money to pay your bill at the hotel and to get your ticket, to London ?" •' I pawned a gold watch which had belonged to my father. The Mont-de-Piete lent me one hundred and sixty franc 3f ranc3 on it. My bill at the hotel was eighty francs and my ticket cost about thirty-five." " At what date did you pawn this watch ?" '• It was about a week after I left Senlis, on the twentieth or twenty-first September," I was not brought up before the magistrate again until after several days. In the meanwhile mischief had been at work. The English and American newspaper correspondents had got hold of the story of my arrest, and of the odious crime of which I had been accused. The most sensational reports had been printed, and, as I afterward learned, my portrait had been riven in several journals in London and New York. Some imaginative " specials " went so far as to state that I had confessed and had attempted suicide. On my third visit the magistrate received me with greater courtesy than before. He said : "I have examined your statements and find you have spoken the truth. The official record of the Mont-de-Piete makes mention of your having pawned your watch. The hotelkeeper of the Quaides Grande-Augustine remembers you as a quiet and industrious young man; and, finally, one of my agents had succeeded in discovering the bookseller who sold you the"Memoirs of Abbede Croisy. The only circumstance now against you is that of the possession of the pin." I " And that, I am sorry to say, I cannot explain to you." •'On the other hand,P continued the magistrate, benevolently, " our inquiries in London have produced satisfactory results, as far as your character is concerned. If only you could explain that one obsoure point, I could proclaim you innocent. Nay, do not | start— you will be set free in any case, but unfortunately only under an order of non lieu, or nolle prosequi, which is equivalent to a Scotch verdict of "Not proven." It is regretable you have such a bad memory." The same evening, after various formalities, I had what the newspapers called " the extraordinary good fortune " to^be pet free. I returned forthwith to London, besieged all the way by the enterprising gentlemen of the press, and went straight to the house where my financee lived. I was received by her father, who said under tne circumstances he could not think of letting me marry his daughter until I had completely vindicated my character. I turned on my heel, indignant at this injustice, and wrote to Clara ; but the young lady left my letters unanswered, and when I called to see her, during the absence of her father in the city, she refused to see me. Apart from this, my sudden notoriety did me more good than I could have hoped for from years of industry and success. What a commercial age is the one in which we are living, that I find myself congratulating myself on having had my name so splendidly advertised for nothing. I am advis*.d to make hay while the sun shines, and I may add that I have made a good deal of hay already. It was ohly three days ago that some solution of the mystery of the amber pin presented itself to my mind. * I was in Berlin, and was walking down the Behren strasse, when I passed a man whose face I seemed to remember, without being able at all to recall when and where I had seen it for the first time. Suddenly, and I should be puzzled to say by what inspiration, I turned around and called out : " Hi, Pierre, Pierre Bastide !" The man stopped as if struck from behind, nd looked around at me ; his face was very

pale, and he was trembling iv ck y |>ait of bis body. After a secon I's lv* t->;i<m he started off running like a madman, as if his object was to put as great a distaucc as possible between us two, He was not, however, destined to run far, for, in dashing across the Friedrich strasse. his haste was so blind that he did not notice the close approach of a heavy omnibus. From where I stood I could see bis peril, and dashed forward instinctively to help him. The same moment I heard a ory, and then the man went down under the hors°B' feet, and the great wheels rolled over his body. The next morning I read in the lageblatt that the person who had been run over in the Friedrich strasse was a Frenchman who had been a resident in Berlin for seven years, where he had acted as valet de chambre in several houses, passing under the name of Michel Doriat. Imraediat ;ly after this accident he had been carried to the hospital, where he had died in the evening. Beforo dying he had been able to state that his real name was Pierre Bastide, adding that he wished to make confession of some crime to the proper authorities. Before these, however, could attend the man died. Among other houses where this valet had served was mentioned that of a certain Doctor H , where he had stayed three years. " Doctor H I" I cried, jumping to my feet ; " but I know that bouse. I dined there five years ago, when 1 was over in Berlin a3 correspondent to the — — . Let me think. Ah 1 I ha"ye it now." I had brought an introduction to Doctor H from a mutual friend in London, and. not having' been able to see him on the day I sailed, left it with my card. I The next morning I received a telegram from the hospitable doctor, inviting me to lunch at his house that day. The telegram found me in bed, and it was then only twenty minutes off the hour fixed for the lunch, I jumped out of bed, dressed in haste, and drove off t© the doctor's place. As I was giving my hat and coat to the valet in the ante-chamber I noticed that the man was staringat me in a curious way. " What are you staring at me for ?" I cried rather irritably. " I beg monsieur's pardon," said the valet, with all the politeness of his countrymen, " but if monsieur will look in the glass." " Dear, dear," I cried, when I examined myself, " 1 was in such a hurry. I have forgotten my ocavat. What shall Ido ? I say, my good fellow," this to the valet, as X handed him a thaler, •• you must have plenty of ties to spare ; run and get me one out of your room. Anything will do, as long as it looks tidy." The valet hastened off, and presently came back with a black tie, a ready-made sailor's knot, very stiff and large. I put in on hastily, and giving the man another piece of money, asked him if I might keep it to go home in. "Oh, certainly," he said, "monsieur has given me its value twice over." Having a repulsion for other people's wearing apparel, I had taken the tie off as soon as I reached my hotel and ha 1 flung it into my portmanteau. It was the same portmanteau in which, several years later, I had foand the scarf pin which bad got me into such trouble. I imagine that the pin had slipped down between the card-board f r%me work of the tie and its silk cover, and that Bastide thought it lost when he gave me his black sailor's knot. In flinging it into my trunk the pin must have fallen out, to remain undisturbed until that unlucky d&y. Unlucky ? Well, yes, inasmuch as what ensued brought about thia cruel separation between Clara and myself. Perhaps, though, a eirl who could cast off a lover as I was on such a suspicion is not worth troubling about.