"What is your occupation? I am obliged to ask these questions, Miss."
"I am a miniature painter,"--briefly,
Hamilton came forward. "Alice Hawthorne? Pardon me, but are you the
artist who recently completed the miniatures of the Emperor of Germany,
the Princess of Hesse, and Mrs. Hyphen-Bonds?"
"I am. I believe there is no further reason for detaining me."
"Emperor of Germany?" echoed the now bewildered chief. "Why didn't you
tell all this to Mr. Haggerty?"
"I had my reasons."
Once again the door opened. A burly man in a dark business-suit
entered. His face ruddy and his little grey eyes sparkled with
suppressed ire. He reminded me of Vautrin, the only difference being
that Vautrin was French while this man was distinctly Irish. His
massive shoulders betrayed tremendous strength. He was vastly angry
about something. He went to the chief's desk and rested his hands upon
it.
"You are a nice specimen for a chief of police, you are!" he began.
"And who the devil are _you_?" bawled the chief, his choler rising.
"I'll tell you who I am presently."
We all eyed him in wonder. What was going to happen now?
"Which of you gentlemen is Mr. Hamilton?" asked the new-comer gruffly.
Hamilton signified that he was the gentleman by that name.
"Some ladies at your ball have been robbed of their diamonds, I
understand?"
"About ten thousand dollars' worth."
"Look here, sir," cried the chief, standing up and balling his fist, "I
want you to explain yourself, and mighty quick. You can't come into my
presence in this manner."
"Bah! You have just permitted the cleverest rascal in the state to
slip through your butterfingers. _I_ am Haggerty."
The chief of police sat down suddenly.