"I must again ask you," said Mr. Barnes, "for proof that you are not the woman's husband." "Does not the fact that she sold me those papers indicate that?" "Not at all," replied the detective. "Supposing you to be really her husband, wishing to be married to Miss Remsen, you would readily pay the woman her price for the paper which proved that your marriage to her had been fraudulent. You might have found it difficult to prove the existence of her first husband without knowing his name, even though she had given you the hint that there was such a person." "I declare, Mr. Barnes, you are a doubting Thomas. But I will give you one more bit of evidence." He went to his desk and returned with some papers. "Here is a confession which I exacted from the woman at the time that I made the bargain with her. You see, it confirms my story. But even _that_ you might think manufactured. Here perhaps is better proof. This," handing it to Mr. Neuilly, "is the certificate of the marriage between my cousin and the Montalbon. As is sometimes done, you see, the woman has pasted the likenesses of herself and my cousin upon the paper. Now, Mr. Neuilly, I ask you, is not that the man who was known to you?" "You are quite right, Mr. Mitchel. I recognize the face perfectly. This is the man I have all along supposed to be a consummate villain. Now I must confess that he was more sinned against than sinning. His one crime was drinking, and the entanglement which wrecked his wife's life and his own was but a wicked plot of which he was innocent. I am glad that it is so, as it leaves the dear little girl without the danger of hereditary taint." "Come, Mr. Barnes," said Mr. Mitchel, "what have you to say now?" Mr. Barnes's reply was calculated to startle his hearers, but seemed to have little effect. He said: "Mr. Mitchel, who do you think killed Rose Mitchel?" "I don't think I am bound to answer," replied Mr. Mitchel, quickly. "I wish you a good-afternoon," said the detective, dryly. "Will you go with me, Mr. Neuilly?" Before the old gentleman could reply Mrs. Mitchel interposed: "Don't go, Mr. Neuilly. You have seen nothing of Rose yet, and besides we would like you to attend our reception to-night." "Ha! Ha! Mr. Barnes! Is she not worthy of being my wife? She takes your witness away from you, for I think you will stay, will you not, Mr. Neuilly?" "It will be a joy to do so. Mr. Barnes, under the circumstances I know you will excuse me, and forgive me, will you not?" "Certainly. You are right to stay. I will leave you all to your happiness. And I hope it will last. Good-day," with which he left them. "Really it is too bad," said Mr. Mitchel, "but these detectives are always so sanguine. Just think of it, Queen, he thinks, or he thought, perhaps, would be more correct, that you were a murderer's wife. What do you say, eh?" For answer she kissed him gently on the forehead, and then went out and brought back Rose. CHAPTER XVI.