Vicky Van Part 27

"She has her keys, of course?" he asked.

"The police have charge of the keys," I said, a little lamely.

"I know," Stone said, impatiently, "but there are doubtless more keys than the ones they have. I should say, that Miss Van Allen took at least the key of one door with her, however hurried her flight."

"It may be so," I conceded. "But, granting she has been back and forth on the errands you suggest, it is not likely she will keep it up."

"No, it is not. And especially if she learns I am on the case."

"How could she know that?" Ruth Schuyler asked.

"I'm sure Miss Van Allen is a most clever and ingenious young woman,"

Stone replied, "and I feel sure she knows all that is going on. She gets information from the papers, and, too, she has that dependable maid, Julie. That woman, probably disguised, can do much in the way of getting information as to how matters are progressing. You see, I've followed the case all the way along, and the peculiarities and unique conditions of it are what induced me to take it up."

"Shall we offer a reward, Mr. Stone, for the discovery of the hiding place of Miss Van Allen?" asked Rhoda, eagerly. "I want to use every possible means of finding her."

"Not yet, Miss Schuyler. Let us try other plans first. But I must enjoin utter secrecy about my connection with the matter. Not the fact that I am at work on it, but the developments or details of my work.

It is a most unusual, a most peculiar case, and I must work unimpeded by outside advice or interference. I may say, I've never known of a case which presented such extraordinary features, and features which will either greatly simplify or greatly impede my progress."

"Just what do you mean by that last remark, Mr. Stone?" asked Ruth Schuyler, who had been listening intently.

"I mean that the absolutely mysterious disappearance of the young woman will either be of easy and simple solution, or else it will prove an insoluble mystery. There will be no half-way work about it.

If I can't learn the truth in a short time, I fear I never can."

"How strange," said I. "Do you often feel thus about the beginning of a case?"

"Very rarely, almost never. And never have I felt it so strongly as in this instance. To trace that girl is not a matter of long and patient search, it's rather a question of a bit of luck or a slight slip on her part, or--well--of some coincidence or chance discovery that will clear things at one flash."

"Then you're depending on luck?" exclaimed Rhoda, in a disappointed tone.

"Oh, not that," and Stone smiled. "At least, I'm not depending entirely on that. If luck comes my way, so much the better. And now, please let me see the notes Miss Van Allen has written."

None was available, however, except the one to Ruth Schuyler. For the one to Randolph Schuyler was in Lowney's possession, and the one I had had from Vicky, and which was even then in my pocket, I had no intention of showing.

It was not necessary, however, for Fleming Stone said one was enough to gather all that he could learn from her chirography.

He studied it attentively, but only for a moment. Then he said, "A characteristic penmanship, but to me it only shows forcefulness, ingenuity and good nature. However, I'm not an expert, I only get a general impression, and the traits I've mentioned are undoubtedly to be found in the lady's nature. Are they not?" and he turned to me, as to one who knew.

"They are," I replied, "so far as I know Miss Van Allen. But my acquaintance with her is limited, and I can only agree superficially."

Stone eyed me closely, and I began to feel a little uncomfortable under his gaze. Clearly, I'd have to tell the truth, or incur his suspicion. Nor did I wish to prevaricate. I felt friendly toward poor little Vicky, and yet, I had no mind to run counter to the interest of Ruth Schuyler. The two sisters I didn't worry about, and indeed, they could look out for themselves. But Ruth Schuyler was in a position to demand justice, and if that justice accused Vicky Van, I must be honest and fair to both in my testimony.

Fleming Stone proceeded to question the women, more definitely and concisely now, and by virtue of his marvellous efficiency, he so shaped his inquiries, that he learned details with accuracy and rapidity.

It would never have occurred to me to ask the questions that he put, but as he went on, I saw their pertinence and value.

With Ruth's permission he called several of the servants and asked them a few things. Nothing of moment transpired, to my mind, but Stone was interested in a full account of where each servant was and what he was doing on the night of the murder. Each gave a straightforward and satisfactory account, and I realized that Stone was only getting a sense of the household atmosphere, and its relations to Mr. Schuyler himself.

Tibbetts, the middle-aged maid of Ruth Schuyler, told of the shock to her mistress when the news was brought.

"Mrs. Schuyler had retired," said Tibbetts, "at about ten o'clock, Mr.

Schuyler was out, and was not expected home until late. I attended her, and after she was in bed, I went to bed myself."

"I'm told you do not live here," commented Stone, though in a disinterested way, and at the same time making notes of some other matters in his notebook.

"I have a room around on Third Avenue," replied Tibbetts. "I like a little home of my own, and when Mrs. Schuyler permits me, I go 'round there to sleep, and sometimes I go in the daylight hours. But on that night I happened to be staying here."

"Tibbetts is rather a privileged character," interposed Ruth. "She has been with me for many years, and as she likes a little place of her own, I adopted the plan of which she has told you."

"But that night you were here?" said Stone, to the maid.

"Yes, sir. I slept in Mrs. Schuyler's dressing room, as I always do when I'm here. Then when Jepson told me the--the awful news, I awoke Mrs. Schuyler and told her."

"Yes," said Stone. "I read all about that in the inquest report."

CHAPTER XIV

WALLS HAVE TONGUES

"Now," said Fleming Stone, after he had learned all he desired from the Schuyler household, "now, if you please, I would like to go over the Van Allen house. You have the keys, Mr. Calhoun?"

"I have a latchkey to the street door." I replied, "the rooms are not locked."

I don't know why exactly, but I hated to have him go through Vicky Van's house. Of course, it must have been because she had begged me not to let Stone get into the case at all. But I hadn't been able to prevent that, the two Schuyler sisters being determined to have him.

And I had no desire to impede justice or stand in the way of law and order, but, somehow or other, I felt the invasion of Vicky's home would bring about trouble for the girl, and my mind was filled with vague foreboding.

"We will go with you," announced Miss Rhoda. "I've wanted to see that house from the first. You'll go, Ruth?"

"Oh, no," and Ruth Schuyler shrank at the idea. "I've no wish to see the place where my husband was killed! How could you think of it? If I could do any good by going--"

"No, Mrs. Schuyler," said Fleming Stone, "you could do no good, and I quite understand why you would rather not go. The Misses Schuyler and Mr. Calhoun will accompany me, and we will start at once."

"Can't I go?" asked Winnie, who had come in recently, "I'm just crazy to see that house. You don't mind my going, do you, Ruth?"

"No, indeed, child. I'm perfectly willing."

Mr. Stone raised no objection, so Winnie went with us.

It was nearly five o'clock, full daylight, though the dusk was just beginning to fall. We went round to Vicky Van's and I opened the door for the party to enter.

The house had begun to show disuse. There was dust on the shining surfaces of the furniture and on the polished floors. The clocks had all stopped and the musty chill of a closed house was in the atmosphere.

"Ugh!" cried Winnie, "what a creepy feeling! And this house is too pretty to be so neglected! Why, it's a darling house. Look at that heavenly color scheme!"

Winnie had darted into the living-room, with its rose and gray appointments, and we all followed her.