"Mr. Mitchel, you are caught this time. You were not sick abed here at the time of the robbery. On the contrary you went over to New York, attended the festival, and took the ruby pin from Miss Remsen's hair." "Mr. Barnes, you are laboring under a delusion. I tell you I have been in this room since December 30th." "One of my men followed you to this place. On the night of the 1st, he registered at this hotel, being assigned to the room next to this. He picked the lock of the communicating door, and came in here, thus discovering your absence." "Very clever idea, I am sure. The fellow deserves credit. But did he tell you which communicating door he came through?" Mr. Barnes looked around and was amazed to find that the only door in the room opened on the hall. The story told by his man was thus an impossibility. A thought came to him quickly and he said: "You have changed to another room since then. You were at that time in No. 234." "And this is number 342, a floor higher up. But you are wrong; I have not changed my room. I will explain how your man has made this mistake. I knew when I came here that your spy had probably followed me. I was tired of the espionage. This is what I did. I registered and was given number 234. I was shown to the room and at once sent for the clerk. When he came up I asked for another room, and desired him not to make any change on the register, as I had an inquisitive friend who would not hesitate to walk right up if he knew what room I was in. I explained that I wished to avoid him. My request was granted. I suppose your man asked for a room near that of his "friend Mr. Mitchel." The clerk at once thought him to be the man whom I wished to avoid, and gave him a room next to 234, which of course satisfied him, and I am sure pleased me as well." Mr. Barnes was supremely disgusted, especially as, during the interview, he had become thoroughly satisfied that Mr. Mitchel was really sick and troubled with a bad cough. He returned to New York puzzled. CHAPTER XII. THE HISTORY OF THE RUBY. During the next two weeks there were numerous references to the ruby robbery in the daily papers. Interviews were published purporting to have been held with every one of note who had been present. The police were twitted with their inability to discover the thief. The detectives from the central office came and went mysteriously, and were silent to all questioners, the while maintaining an expression which plainly said, "We could an' if we would." One or two persons were even arrested, only to be promptly discharged when brought before the committing magistrates. So that interest in the affair soon died out. Another crime occurred, and all New York had something else to talk of. The Remsen ruby was forgotten by the masses.