"Your argument is not bad, Mr. Randolph. It is not impossible that your friend might be generous and gentle, and yet with a mania for the possession of jewels, and with the knowledge of all the crimes that have been committed to gain them, the temptation to kill or steal would perhaps become over-powering, where his passion sees an opportunity to be satisfied. It is an odd world." "Do you think, that in a case of that kind, the man would be excusable on the plea of mania? Legally I mean?" "Well no, I do not! Psychologically I admit that you may be correct, and I can sympathize with a man who became a criminal in such a way. But legally, he would be culpable. At least I think so. The question to be answered is, did your friend steal those jewels? You slept with him that night, what do you think?" "I don't know what to think. He could not have left the berth without climbing over me, and though I sleep soundly, that ought to have awakened me. Then besides, if he did get out and take the things, where could he have hidden them, and how did they get to New Haven? By the way, I suppose you have the description of the man who left the satchel at the hotel? Does it tally with that of my friend?" "I can't say. It is rather vague. The clerk says the man was of medium size, with red hair and beard, whilst the porter who saw him also, is equally positive that he had black hair and no beard. The last fits Mr. Mitchel better than the first, but it is a description which would do as well for a thousand men found in a walk along Broadway." "I almost think that after all the thief is some one else." "Let us hope so, Mr. Randolph. I will say this much, if there is any comfort in it for you. At present there is not enough evidence against him to warrant his arrest." The detective said this with a purpose. By relieving this man's mind, he hoped to make him more communicative. After a pause he asked: "You have known Mr. Mitchel for a number of years, I believe?" "No, not more than a year and a half. He has not been in New York two years." "Oh! I see. A Boston man?" "No, I think he came from New Orleans." A curious sensation passed over Mr. Barnes. There is a superstitious belief, much esteemed by many, that a shudder or chill of this character means that some one is walking over the spot where the person affected is to be buried. Therefore an uncanny thought accompanies it. With Mr. Barnes it is different. He is free from all such notions, yet insensibly he is moved when this occurs to him, because it has so often happened that at the time he just hit upon a clew. Therefore he stopped to consider. All that Mr. Randolph had said was that Mr. Mitchel, he thought, had come from New Orleans. In a moment it flashed across Mr. Barnes's mind that the dead woman had told him that she had lived in New Orleans. Was there any significance in this fact? Did the man and the woman know each other in the southern city?