The Crime of the French Café and Other Stories | Page 7

guilty of so hideous a crime?
Half an hour passed, and then came the second message, as follows:
"Identified as Mrs. Jones."
CHAPTER IV.
ALL SORTS OF IDENTIFICATIONS.
"I am sorry to tell you, Mr. Jones, that the body of the woman
murdered last night has been identified as that of your wife."
So spoke Nick, and this time Jones' calmness was not proof against the
surprise.
"It can't be possible!" he exclaimed, leaping from his chair.
"I am so informed," said Nick, "and I must place you under arrest."
"But there is some infernal mistake here," said the accused. "I know
that my wife is all right. This must be somebody else."
"A lady living in the same house with you has recognized the body."

"I don't care if she has. Nobody in that house knows my wife."
"Is there anybody in the city who does know her?"
"I can't think of anybody."
"How about the grocer with whom you traded?"
"Our servant attended to all that till she was taken sick. Since then I've
done what little there was to do. We've eaten most of our meals at
restaurants."
"What restaurants?"
"Oh, all around. There's the Alcazar, for instance, where we have
sometimes dined together."
"Does the head waiter there know her?"
"I suppose he would remember her face. He doesn't know the name."
"All right. I'll have him look at the body."
"But, man, you're going to let me look at it, aren't you?" exclaimed
Jones. "That would settle it, I should think."
"I'll take you there now, and we will try to get somebody from the
Alcazar at the same time."
Nick took the prisoner at once to the Alcazar. The head waiter
remembered Jones' face. He had seen him dining with a lady who had
beautiful light hair.
The three went to the undertaker's rooms.
Nick watched Jones narrowly as he approached the body. He started
violently at the first sight of it. Then he became calm.
"The hair is wonderfully like," he said, "but there is no resemblance

between the two faces."
"That is true, gentlemen," said the head waiter; "this is not the lady."
"On the contrary," said a voice close beside them, "I believe that this
lady was your wife, Mr. Jones."
All the color went out of Jones' face as he turned quickly toward the
man who had spoken.
"Ah, Mr. Gottlieb," he said, "I am surprised to hear you say that."
"Mr. Gottlieb is the grocer from whom the Joneses bought their
supplies," said Chick, who had advanced to Nick's side.
"I was not aware that you had ever seen my wife," said Jones, looking
searchingly at the grocer.
"I never saw her plainly," said Gottlieb. "She came into my store once
or twice, but always closely veiled. So I cannot be sure; and, of course,
if you insist that this is not your wife's body, I must be mistaken."
"You are mistaken, sir," said Jones, coldly.
He turned to Nick.
"Mr. Gottlieb has sealed my doom for the present," he said, with a
smile. "I am ready to go with you."
Nick took his prisoner to Police Headquarters.
The detective had meanwhile sent Patsy in quest of Harrigan, the
coachman.
Jones was taken into the superintendent's room, and a dozen other men
were assembled there, waiting for the arrival of the cabman.
Harrigan was very nervous when he appeared.

"Youse fellies are tryin' to do me out o' my license," said he; "but I'm
tellin' yer I was all right last night. I wasn't half so paralyzed as youse
t'ink I was. Show me your man and I'll identify him."
Harrigan was led into the superintendent's room. When he saw how
many men were there he seemed to be a great deal taken aback.
But he put a bold face on the matter, and promptly advanced, saying:
"This is the man."
Nick made a gesture of disappointment, and then he laughed, and the
superintendent with him.
The man whom Harrigan had selected was Chick.
It was evident that the cabman was going upon pure guess-work. Being
sharply questioned, he confessed that he had no idea how his "fare" of
the previous night looked.
"I'll give it to youse dead straight," said he, at last; "I don't know
whether the mug was white or black. Say, he might have been a
Chinee."
"I believe that fellow is faking," said the sergeant to Nick, as Harrigan
left the room.
"No; he's straight enough, I guess," said Nick. "He's not the sort of man
who would have been let into a game of this kind."
Nick then proceeded to question the prisoner in the presence of Chick
and the superintendent.
His answers were straightforward enough, but they threw little light
upon the affair.
The only