 CHAPTER VII RUTH SKYLER There were many calls on Vicky Van's telephone that morning. It seemed to me that the bell rang almost continually. The police people answered it and one time I was surprised to learn that the call was for me. I took up the receiver and heard Mr. Bradbury's voice. I called up your home," he said, and your sister told me to try this number. Now look here, Calhoun. I wish you'd go to see Mrs. Skyler. I've talked with her over the telephone and she asked me to come up there, but I've got the critted-in case on this morning and I can't get away very well. So you go and see what you can do for her. She told me you were there last night and she's willing to have you in my place. I agreed, feeling rather flattered that the rich man's widow should so readily accept me as Mr. Bradbury's substitute. I'm sorry you're going there," said Mrs. Reeves, her eyes filling with tears as I took leave of her. Of course the Skylers will pump you about Vicky and try to make you say that she killed that man. I must tell Mrs. Skyler the truth, I said. Yes, but can't you give Vicky the benefit of the doubt, for there is a doubt. Why should she kill a man she never had seen before? Perhaps he wasn't a stranger to her after all. Why, I heard her say before he came that she didn't know him. You heard her say she didn't know Mr. Summers, I corrected. I've been thinking this thing over. Suppose Vicky did know Mr. Skyler and when Steele proposed bringing a Mr. Summers. No, you're all wrong, she exclaimed. I saw them when they met and I'm sure they had never laid eyes on each other before. There was not the least sign of recognition. Besides, that isn't like Vicky, to have a millionaire and a married man for her friend. That girl is all right, Mr. Calhoun, and I don't want you to let Mrs. Skyler think she isn't. Perhaps Mrs. Skyler knows something about her. I doubt it. Anyway, you stand up for Vicky as far as you can do so honestly, won't you? I can surely promise that, I replied as I started on my errand. Approaching the Fifth Avenue residence I looked at the house which I had been unable to see clearly the night before. It was large and handsome but not one of the most modern mansions. Four stories it was and as I glanced up I noticed that all the window shades were down. The floral emblem of death hung at one side of the wide entrance and as I approached the door silently swung open. A footman was in charge and I was ushered at once to the library where I had been some hours earlier. It was not a cheerful room. The appointments were heavy and somber, though evidently the woods and fabrics were of great value. A shaded electrolyer gave a dim light for the drawn blinds precluded daylight. A soft step and Mrs. Skyler came into the room. Black garb was not becoming to her. The night before in her blue house dress she had looked almost pretty but now in a black gown without even a bit of relieving white at her throat she was plain and very pathetic. Her face was pale and drawn and her eyes showed dark shadows as of utter weariness. She greeted me simply and glided to a nearby chair. It is kind of you to come, Mr. Calhoun, and the fine quality of her voice and inflection betokent New England ancestry or training. As you were here last night you seem more like a friend than a mere business acquaintance. I am very glad, Mrs. Skyler, and I spoke sincerely that you look on me like that. Please tell me anything you wish to and command me in any way I can serve you. The speech sounded a little stilted, I knew, but there was something about Woo Skyler that called for a dignified address. She had the air of bewildered helplessness that always appeals to a man, but she had, too, a look of determination as to one who would do the right thing at any cost of personal unpleasantness. It is all so dreadful, she began, and an insuppressable sob threatened her speech, but she controlled it and went on. There is so much to be gone through with and I am so ignorant of, of law and, you know, of police doings. I understand, I returned, and anything that you can be spared rest assured you shall be. But there is much ahead of you that will be hard for you, very hard, and perhaps I can help you get ready for it. Will there be an inquest and all that? She whispered the word half fearfully. Yes, there must be, though not for several days, probably. You know they can't find Miss Van Allen. No, where can she be? I don't suppose they will ever find her. Why should she kill my husband? Have you any theory, Mr. Calhoun? How well do you know this, this person? Only fairly well, by which I mean I have met her some half a dozen times. Always in her own house. Not always. I've attended studio parties where she was present. Oh, Bohemian affairs. Not exactly. Miss Van Allen is a delightful girl, bright and of merry spirits, but in no way fast or of questionable habits. That's what they tell me, but pardon me if I cannot believe a really nice correct young woman would have a married man visiting her. But remember, Mrs. Schuyler, Miss Van Allen did not invite Mr. Schuyler to her house. As near as we can make out, Mr. Steele brought him without Miss Van Allen's permission, and under an assumed name. A blush of shame stained her face. I realize, she said, how that reflects against my husband. Must all this be made public, Mr. Calhoun? I fear it must. The law is inexorable in its demands for justice. But if they can't find Miss Van Allen, how can they indict her, or whatever the term is? Why can't the whole affair be hushed up? Personally, I would far rather never find the girl, never have her punished than to drag the Schuyler name through the horrors of a murder trial. I quite understand your position, but it will not be possible to evade the legal proceedings. Of course, if Miss Van Allen is never found, the affair must remain a mystery. But she will be found. A lady like that can't drop out of existence. No, of course not. Why, her bills must be paid, her household effects looked after. Is she in a house or an apartment? A house, I understand she owns it. Then she must communicate with her business people, lawyer, bank, or creditors. Can't you trace her that way? We hope to. As you say, she must surely return to attend to such matters. And her servants, what do they say? I described the unusual menage that Vicky Van supported and Mrs. Schuyler was interested. How strange, she said. She sounds to me like an adventurous. No, she isn't that. She has money enough. Where does she get it? I don't know, I'm sure. But she is a quiet, self-reliant little person and not at all of the adventurous type. It doesn't matter. And Mrs. Schuyler sighed. I don't care anything about her personality. She must be bad or she wouldn't have killed my husband. I'm not defending him, but men don't go to the houses of complete strangers and get murdered by them. And I hope she will never be found, for it might bring out a story of scandal or shame that will always cling to Mr. Schuyler's memory. But of course she will come back, and she will plead innocence and lay all blame on Mr. Schuyler. Can't we buy her off? I would pay a large sum to keep her story from the world. I'm sorry, Mrs. Schuyler, but that can't be done. I thought you would help me. I'm so disappointed. Tears gathered in her eyes and her voice trembled. I wished Bradbury had had this job instead of myself or I am soft hearted where feminine appeal is concerned and I didn't know quite what to say. But just then the two Goddard sisters came into the library and I rose to greet them. Oh, cried Miss Rhoda, it's all too awful. We can't believe it. I wish I had that girl here. You must find her, Mr. Calhoun. You must. Yes, chimed in Miss Sarah. She must be brought to judgment, an eye for an eye and a life for a life. That's the scripture law. Don't talk so, Sarah, pleaded Ruth Schuyler. It won't bring Randolph back to punish his murderer. And think of the awful publicity. I don't care for that. Murder has been done and murder must be avenged. I'm ashamed of you, Ruth, if you let any idea of personal distaste stand in the way of righteous law and order. I too, agreed Rhoda, spare no effort or expense Mr. Calhoun to find that wicked girl and have her arrested. I dare say you are right. And Mrs. Schuyler's acquiescence showed her to be more or less under the iron hand of the family opinion. Of course, if you feel that way, I shall raise no obstacle to the law's progress. Whatever you advise, Rhoda, I agree to. Certainly you do. You are young, Ruth, and you are not a Schuyler. Why, the very name demands the strongest powers of the law. I only fear that the most desperate efforts may not succeed. What is your opinion, Mr. Calhoun? Can they find that woman? The scorn of the last two words, as uttered by Rhoda Schuyler's sharp tongue, is not to be reproduced in print. I think most probably yes, Mrs. Schuyler. I think she must return sooner or later. Don't wait for that, exclaimed Sarah, send people to search for her. Scour the country. Don't let her get away beyond retrieval. Offer a reward if necessary, but get her. A reward, repeated Rhoda. Yes, that's it. Put it in the paper at once. A large reward for any information of Miss Van Allen. Stay, I urged. Don't decide on such measures too hastily. Might you not defeat your own purpose? Miss Van Allen doubtless will see the papers wherever she may be. If she learns of the reward she will hide herself more securely than ever. I think so too, said Ruth in her gentle voice. I am sure, Rhoda, we oughtn't to do anything like that just yet. Oh, how hard it is to know what to do. Yes, we've always deferred everything to Randolph. How can we get along without him? We must, and Mrs. Scudder said her pale lips together in an evident determination to be brave and strong. Now, Mr. Calhoun, what is there to be discussed in a business way? I mean regarding Mr. Scudder's business with you or Mr. Bradbury. Nothing at present, I returned feeling sure the poor woman had quite enough on her mind. The will can be examined at your convenience and any questions of securities or money can rest over for a time. Do you wish any ready cash? Or shall we look after any money matters? Thank you, no. Such things are systematically arranged in the household. Jebson attends to bills and tradesmen. My greatest wish is for a secretary or some person to write notes and look after the flood of letters and telegrams that has already begun. I felt surprised, for I had assumed that the rich man's wife had a social secretary of her own. I've no one, she said in response to my glance. Mr. Scudder didn't wish me to have a secretary, and indeed I didn't need one. But now, of course it is necessary now. Not at all, interrupted Miss Rhoda. I am surprised at you, Ruth. You know how Randolph objected to such things, and now as soon as he is gone you begin to Hush, Rhoda, said Ruth with gentle dignity. It was not necessary before, but it is now. You've no idea what a task it will be. All our friends and many of Randolph's acquaintances will call or send messages and they must be acknowledged. And pray what else have you to do but acknowledge them. Sarah and I will attend to our own. A great many doubtless, but not too much of a task for us when it is in memory of our dear brother. Very well, and Ruth spoke calmly. We will wait for a day or two, Mr. Calhoun, and then if, as I believe, the matter requires further consideration, we will discuss it again. Clever woman, I thought to myself. She isn't altogether chummy with those old maid sisters, and yet she knows better than to have any open disagreement. I'll bet she gets her secretary when she gets ready for one. I'll be on the lookout for the right girl for her. When will they bring my husband home? She continued, without waiting for a comment on her decision about the secretary. Sometime to-day I returned, looking commiseratingly at the harassed white face. Probably this afternoon. Can I take any message regarding the funeral arrangements? Not yet, and Ruth's Skyler shuddered. Those details are so terrible. Terrible, yes, said Miss Sarah, but they must be looked after. We will see the undertaker's men, Ruth. I think Rhoda and I will know better what is fit and proper for Randolph's burial ceremonies than you possibly can. I began to realize that the sisters had a family pride which did not include their brother's wife in their councils. Apparently she was or they deemed her of lesser birth or social standing. Personally, however, I greatly preferred the gentlekindliness of the widow to the aristocratic hotir of the sisters. Ruth's Skyler made no objection to the proposition and seemed relieved that her advice would not be required. Who is in the house where Mr. Skyler was? Where he died, she asked hesitatingly. Only the police, I answered, unless Miss Van Allen has returned. Were there many people there last night? Clearly she wanted to know more details of the occasion but didn't like to show curiosity. Yes, I informed her, quite a number. It was Miss Van Allen's birthday and so a sort of little celebration. Her birthday, how old was she? I have no idea. I should guess about twenty-two or twenty-three. Is she, is, what does she look like? The eternal feminine wanted to ask, is she pretty? But Ruth Skyler's dignity scarcely permitted the question. I noticed too that the sisters listened attentively for my reply. Yes, I said truthfully she is pretty. She is small with very black hair and large dark gray eyes. She is exceedingly chic and up to date as to costumes and is a vivacious and charming manner. Hump, sniffed Miss Rhoda. An actress? Not at all. Victoria Van Allen is a well-bred lady if there ever was one. You are a staunch friend, Mr. Calhoun, and Mrs. Skyler looked her surprise. I speak only as I feel. I can't say surely that Miss Van Allen did not commit this crime for I know there is evidence against her. But I can't reconcile the deed with her character as I know it, and I, for one, shall wait further developments before I condemn her. But of course, Mrs. Skyler, my personal feelings in the matter have no weight in law, and I stand ready to obey whatever orders you may give in connection with a search for the missing girl. I don't know exactly what I do want done yet, Mr. Calhoun, and Ruth Skyler glanced deferringly toward the sisters. No, we don't. For once Sarah agreed with Ruth. After the funeral we can set our minds to the finding of the criminal. Of course, the police will do all they can meantime to trace her. Of course, and such a plan is best, she may return. To a house guarded by police, asked Ruth. Possibly. If she is innocent, why not? Innocent, exclaimed Miss Rhoda with utmost scorn. Some of her friends think or so, I observed. Mrs. Reeves, a lady who was at the party, stayed in the house all night and is, I think, there still. Why did she do that? asked Mrs. Skyler looking puzzled. She hoped Miss Van Allen would return and she waited there to look after her. That was kind. Who is this lady? She lives down on Washington Square. I only know her slightly, but she is a warm-hearted and a most capable and sensible one. She refuses to believe that Vicky Van, what do you call her? Her friends call her Vicky Van. It, it sort of suits her. From what you say, I judge she is not the terror I thought her at first, but all the same she murdered my husband and I cannot look on her as you seem to. Nor can I blame you. Your feelings to ward her are entirely just, Mrs. Skyler. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of Vicky Van by Carolyn Wells This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 8. The Letterbox It's a queer case, said Mr. Bradbury to me when I reached the office that afternoon. Of course, I know Randolph Skyler was no saint, but I never supposed he was deep enough in any affair to have a woman kill him. And so near his home, too. He might have had the decency to choose his lady acquaintances in more remote sections of the city. That isn't the queerest part to me, I returned. What I can't understand is why that girl stabbed him. She didn't know him. Now, now, Calhoun, she must have known him. She didn't know any summers, we'll say, but she must have known Skyler. A murder has to have a motive. She had provided herself with that knife beforehand, you see, and she got him out to the dining room purposely. I can't think it, I said and I sighed. I know Vicky Van fairly well and she wouldn't. You can't say what a woman would or wouldn't do. But it's not our business to look after the criminal part of it. We've got all we can handle attending to the estate. And here's another thing. I wish you'd do all that's necessary up at the house. I always got along all right with Randolph Skyler, but I can't stand those sisters of his. His wife I never met. But those old Skyler women get on my nerves. So you look after them. You're more of a ladies man than I am. So you go there and talk pretty when they want legal advice. I'm willing, I agreed. I don't care such a lot for the sisters myself, but Mrs. Skyler is a young thing ignorant of her own rights and those old maids boss her like fury. I'm going to see that she has her own way in some few things at least. She inherits half the fortune, you know. Yes, and the sisters a quarter each. That is, after some minor bequest and charitable donations are settled. Skyler was a good sort as men go. Then men go pretty badly. He was a brute to his wife. I've been told he ruled her with a rod of iron and what he didn't bother her about the old sisters did. That's neither here nor there. Don't you try to be a peacemaker in that family. I know those two old ladies and they'd resent anything in the way of criticism of their treatment of their sister in law. And if Skyler didn't treat his wife handsomely, she's rid of him now at any rate. Here a cold blooded thing, Bradbury. I informed him, and I'm going to do all I can for that young widow. She'll have a lot of unpleasant publicity at best. And if I can shield her from part of it, so much the better. All right, Calhoun, do what you like, but don't get in on the detective work. I know your weakness for that sort of thing. And I know if you begin, you'll never let up. Bradbury was right. I have a fondness for detective work, not the police part of it, but the inquiry into mystery, the deduction from clues and the sifting of evidence. I had no mind to miss the inquest and had a burning curiosity to know what had become a vicky van. This was not only curiosity, either. I had a high respect and a genuine liking for that little lady, and as Mrs. Reeves had put it, I was only too willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Though I couldn't feel any real doubt that she had killed Skyler. As Bradbury said, she didn't know a Mr. Summers, but she may have known the millionaire Skyler. I had never seen anything of a seamy side to Vicky's character, but then I didn't know her so very well, and the man was dead, and who else could have killed him? I went around to the caterers on my way uptown that afternoon and asked him as to the reliability of Luigi and the probable truth of his story. That, a man, Prasjeany told me, is as honest as the day. I've had him a longer than any of my other waiters, and he hasn't never said or done anything to make me doubt his accuracy. I believe, Mr. Calhoun, that Luigi saw exactly what he said he saw. Might he not have been mistaken in the identity of the woman? Not a likely. I'll call him and you can question him. This was what I wanted, to question the waiter alone and I welcomed the opportunity. I know that it was a Mr. Van Allen, who was the quiet response of the Italian to my inquiry. I cannot be mistaken. I had seen her many times during the evening. I therefore recognized the gown as she wore, of a light yellow gauzy stuff, and an overdress of a long gold bead of fringes. I saw her stand above the fallen body, looking down at it with a horrified face. I saw stains of blood on her gown. Where? I interrupted. What part of the gown? Luigi thought a moment. On the lower flounces, as if her skirts had brushed against the victim when she stooped over him. Did she herself observe these stains? Yes, she looked at them and then looked frightened and then she ran to the hall. And you saw no other person near. None. And heard nobody. I heard only the voices from the parlor. There was much noise of laughter and talk there. No amount of questioning could change your ad to Luigi's story. It was quite evident that he was telling just what he saw and had no interest in coloring it to make it appear different in any way. He admired Miss Van Allen. He said she was a pleasant lady and not hard to please if her orders were faithfully carried out. He expressed no personal interest in the question of her guilt or innocence. He simply told what he had seen. I didn't altogether like his stolid indifference. It seemed impossible there should be so little humanity in a fellow being, but I knew he was a good and conscientious waiter and I concluded he was nothing more. I went home and, of course, was met by Aunt Lucy and Winnie with a perfect storm of questions. After dinner I begged. Let me get a little rest and food and then I'll tell you all I know. But after a few spoonfuls of soup, Winnie declared I was too nervous to eat and I might as well talk. Well, I will, I said, but look here you two. To begin with, I want you to understand that I'm involved in this matter in a business way and I'm also interested in a personal way. And I don't want any silly talk about its being unfortunate or regrettable that I should be. It's a business case, Aunt Lucy, as far as the settlement of Mr. Skyler's estate is concerned, and it's a personal affair that I'm acquainted with Ms. Van Allen, and I propose to make more or less effort to find some trace of that girl and to see if there is any possible chance that she may not be the guilty one after all. Good for you, Lord Chesterton, cried Winnie. I always knew you were the soul of chivalry and now you're proving it. What are you going to do to find out things I mean? I don't know yet, Win, but if you want to help me, you can do a lot. Indeed, she won't, declared Aunt Lucy. If you have to do these things as a matter of business, I can't object, but I won't have Winnie dragged into it. No dragging Aunt Lou and nothing very desperate for Winnie to do, but I'd be jolly glad if both of you would just glance out of the window occasionally and see if you see anything going on at the Van Allen house. That's all. Oh, I'll do that, Winnie cried. Nobody can see me, I'll keep behind our curtains, and I can see that house perfectly well. I don't mean all the time, child, but I do feel sure that Vicky Van will come back there, and if you glance out now and then, you might see her go in or out. But it's dark, said Aunt Lucy, who was becoming interested in spite of her scruples. I don't mean tonight or any night, but in the daytime. She's likely to come if at all in broad daylight, I think. Aren't the police keeping guard on the house? inquired my Aunt. Only the regular patrolman. He passes it every few hours, joggles the doorknob, and goes on. If Vicky is as clever as I think she is, she'll time that policeman and sneak into the house between his rounds. It's only a chance, you know, but you might see her. And then I told them all I knew myself of the whole affair. And seeing that I was deeply into the turmoil of it all and had grave responsibilities, Aunt Lucy withdrew all objections and sympathized with me. Also she was impressed with my important business connections with the Schuyler family and was frankly curious about that aristocratic household. I was asked over and over again as to their mode of living, the furniture and appointments of the house, and the attitudes of the widow and the sisters toward each other. It was late in the evening before I remembered some important papers Mr. Bradbury had given me to hand to Mrs. Schuyler, and as soon as I thought of them, I telephoned to know if I might then bring them over. Yes, came back, whew Schuyler's soft voice. I wish you would. I want to consult you about some other things also. The interview was less trying than that of the morning had been. Several matters of inheritance, insurance, and such things were discussed and Mrs. Schuyler was more composed and calm. She looked better too, though this was doubtless due in part to the fact that she wore a white house dress which was far more becoming than black to her colorless face and light hair. I don't know, she said at length, whether what I want to say should be said to you or to the detective. Tell me first, I said, and I may be able to advise you. In any case it will be confidential. You are kind, she said, and her grateful eyes smiled appreciatively. It's this. I'd rather not have that, that Ms. Van Allen traced, if it can be prevented in any way. I have a special reason for this which I think I will tell you. It is that, on thinking it over, I have become convinced that my husband must have known the young woman and the acquaintance was not to his credit. For some reason I think she must have forbidden him in the house, and that is why he went there under an assumed name. Mr. Lowney succeeded in getting Mr. Steele on the long distance telephone. Why, where is Steele? In Chicago. Mr. Lowney says that he had to go there on the midnight train and that is why he left the lady's house, Ms. Van Allen's house, so suddenly. Really? Well, I am surprised. But go on, what else did Steele say? He said that Mr. Schuyler was with him at the club, and that he, Mr. Steele, said he was going to Ms. Van Allen's party, and Mr. Schuyler begged him to take him along, and introduce him as Mr. Summers. It seems he had asked Mr. Steele before to do this, but this time he was more insistent. So Mr. Steele did it. Of course, Mr. Calhoun, I asked Mr. Lowney minutely about all this, because I want to know just what circumstances led up to my husband's going to that house. Of course, Mrs. Schuyler, you have every right to know. And did Steele say that was Mr. Schuyler's first visit there or merely his first visit as Mr. Summers? Mr. Steele thought Mr. Schuyler had never been to the house before at all. But may he not have been mistaken? May not, Mr. Schuyler have known the lady previously. Oh, it is such a moll. But in any case, Mr. Calhoun, it seems to me that further probing and searching will only pile up a proberium on the name of Schuyler, and I can't stand it. I am so unused in notoriety or publicity I can't face all the unpleasantness that must follow. Do help me to avoid it, won't you? I certainly will if I can. But I fear you ask the impossible, Mrs. Schuyler. The law will not be stopped in its course by personal inclinations. No, I suppose not. What is it, Tibbetts? The last question was addressed to her maid who appeared at the doorway. The sad-faced woman looked at her mistress with a mingled air of deference and commiseration. The telephone, ma'am, she said. I said you were busily engaged, but it is some young woman who begs to speak to you a moment. Mrs. Schuyler excused herself and left the room, and Tibbetts, smoothing down her trim-white apron, followed. Another would be secretary, my host has said as she returned. I don't know how I report that I wanted one travel so quickly, but I've had three offered since noon. Do the Schuyler ladies still object? No, at least they are willing. But I don't want any except a capable one. Not so much experienced as quick-witted and intelligent. You may as well know, Mr. Calhoun, since you are to look after my affairs, that my late husband was of strictly plain habits. He was almost frugal in his ideas of how little woman-kind should be indulged in any luxuries or unnecessary comforts. This did not incomode his sisters, for they were all of the same mind. But I desired certain things which he saw fit to deny me. I make no complaint, I bear his memory no ill-will, but I feel that now I may have some of these things. I am my own mistress, and while I have no wish to cast any reflection on Mr. Schuyler's management of his own house, yet it is now my house, and I must have the privilege of ordering it as I choose. It had come already then. Ruth Schuyler and her puritanical sisters-in-law had met the issue, and Ruth had stood up for her rights. I felt that I knew the woman well enough to know she would not have taken this stand so soon after her husband's death, except that some discussion or disagreement had made it necessary for her to assert herself. I bowed in acquiescence and said, I am sure Mrs. Schuyler there can be no objection to your doing exactly as you please. This house is entirely your own, half Mr. Schuyler's fortune is yours, and you are responsible to nobody for your actions. If not intrusive, I will offer to look you up a suitable secretary. I have a young woman in mind whom I think you would like. I am not easy to please, she said, smiling a little. I have a very definite idea of what I want. Who is your friend? Not a friend exactly. An acquaintance of my sisters who is eligible for the post if she suits you. Shall I send her round to see you tomorrow? Yes, please. Your mention of her is enough recommendation. I want Mr. Calhoun to do more or less charitable work this winter. That was another of Mr. Schuyler's whims to attend to all charities himself and to object to my giving anything personally. As I shall be quiet and unoccupied this winter I plan to do some systematic work in a benevolent way. I know this sounds strange to you that I should be planning these things so soon. But the truth is I do plan them purposely because I don't want to think about the present horror. I need something to keep my mind from thinking of the awful tragedy or I shall go mad. It seemed to me not wrong to think about some work that should benefit others and to do this will give me an outlet for my energies and be helpful to the poor and suffering. Ruth Schuyler looked almost beautiful as her face glowed with enthusiasm on her subject. I realized how the nervous high strung woman must be torn with agony at the revelations of her husband's defects and the uncertainty of his honor and morality and all in addition to the terrible experiences she was undergoing and must yet encounter. I went home filled with a desire to help her in every way I could and though I went to my room at once I could not think of sleep. I felt like planning ways to put the police off the track or finding some method of making them cease their hunt for Vicky Van. I went down to the library and sat down for a smoke and a reverie. And I sat there until very late after two o'clock in fact without getting any nearer a plan than I was at the start. It was nearly three when I concluded that I could sleep at last. I stood by the front window a moment looking over at Vicky Van's house across the street and a few doors down from our own. As I looked at the darkened dwelling I saw the front door slowly open. There was no one outside it was being opened from inside. As I knew the body of Mr. Schuyler had been taken away and the house had been deserted by all who had been there and that it was in custody of the police I looked curiously to see what would happen next. Out of the door came a slight small figure. It was, I felt positive, Vicky Van herself. I couldn't mistake that sleek black head she wore no hat or those short full skirts that she always wore. She looked about cautiously and then with swift motions she unlocked the letter box that was beside her front door, took out several letters, relocked the box and slipped back into the house again. Without stopping to think I opened my front door and flew across the street. Mounting her steps I rang the doorbell hard. There was no response and I kept on ringing a veritable bombardment. Then the door opened a very little bit. I could see it was on a night chain and Vicky's voice said, Please go away. No I won't. I said, Let me come in. I can't let you come in. Go away, please. And then the door closed in my very face and though I pleaded, Vicky, do let me in. There was no response. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Vicky Van by Karen Wells This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 9. The Social Secretary I stood staring at the closed door. What did it mean? Why was Vicky in there and why wouldn't she let me come in? Then as I collected my wits I laughed at myself. I knew why she was there to get her mail. Doubtless there were important letters that she must have and she had dared discovery to come at dead of night to get them. The patrolman was not in sight. She had looked out for this, of course. It was the merest chance that I had seen her, otherwise she would have escaped all observation. At three in the morning there are almost no people abroad in the quieter streets of the city and Vicky had timed her visit well. Of course she had her own keys and I felt sure she had stealthily entered at the basement door and waited her time to secure the letters from the mailbox. I looked at the mailbox, an unusual appendage to a private residence, but Vicky was away from home so much it was doubtless necessary. I tried to look in at a window but all shades were down and there were no lights inside. I wanted to ring the doorbell again but a sense of delicacy forbade me. I was not a detective and if I persisted I might attract the attention of a passerby or of the returning policeman and so get Vicky into all sorts of trouble. I wasn't tracking the girl down. If she was a criminal let the police find her. I had no desire to aid their efforts but I did want to see Vicky ban. I wanted to offer her my help, not in escaping justice exactly, but I wondered if I might do some little errands or favors that would show my friendliness. I went slowly toward home when I had an inspiration. Hastening to my own house I flew to the telephone and called Vicky's number which I knew well. I waited some time for a response but at last I heard Vicky's voice say, Who is it, please? An impulse of protection for her not for myself led me to withhold my name. Nor did I speak hers. I said, This is the man who just left your house. I called up to offer help if I can render you any. That's good of you, she returned in a heartfelt way. I appreciate such kindness but you can do nothing. Nothing. Thank you. At least talk to me a few minutes. I'm so anxious about you. You are not implicated in the matter, are you? Don't ask me, she murmured in such a serious voice that my heart sank. What I did or didn't do must always remain a mystery. I cannot tell you anything. Don't ask. And if you would help me try your best to have inquiry stopped. Can you do this? I fear not. But can't I see you somewhere and we can talk plainly. Do you want to? Indeed I do. Then you do believe in me. Do you hold me blameless? I hesitated at this. I couldn't lie to her nor could I rid my mind of the conviction of her guilt. I said, I will if you assure me that it is the truth. I can't do that. Goodbye. Wait a minute. Did you know the expected guest was coming under an assumed name? I did not. Did you know any summers? No. Did you know the real man? I had met him once at a dance. Did you like him? I neither liked nor disliked. He was an object of utter indifference to me. Then why did you? Hush, you can never know. I can't tell you. Then don't. Please believe I want to befriend you. The agony and fear in Vicky's voice thrilled me and I desired only to shield and protect her. She was so young and alone. It is good to have a friendly voice speak to me, but you can only forget me. No, let me do something definite. Some errand of trust, some matter of confidence. Do you mean it? Will you? Gladly. What is it? Then if you will collect my mail from the box at the door after a few days, say three days and put it aside for me. You saw me get it to-night, I suppose, and it is a dangerous thing for me to do. Where are you? I mean, where are you staying? Don't ask. I am safe. I see the newspapers and I know I am to be hunted down, so I must hide. I cannot face the inquiries. I fear arrest and punishment. Her tones betrayed guilty fear and I shuddered at the confirmation of my suspicions, but I would do what I could for her. How shall I get your letters? I asked, and I honestly tried not to disclose my sudden knowledge of her guilt, but her quick ears caught my changed inflection. You believe me guilty, she said, and she stifled a sob. Yet still you will help me. God bless you. Listen, then, for I must stop this talking. It is too desperately dangerous. I will leave the key of the mailbox. No, I will send it to you by mail. That will be the safest. Then will you get the letters and put them? Where shall I say? I'll mail them to you. No, that would never do. You can get into this house, can't you? The police will let you in at any time. Yes, I can probably manage that. Then bring them with you, all of the three days mail at once, you understand, and put them in that great Chinese jar in the music room. The one with the gold dragon on the cover. No one will look there for them. I will manage to come and get them very soon. Please don't spy on me, will you, Chester? The use of my first name was, I knew, inadvertent and unconscious. It thrilled me. There was a marvellous fascination always about Vicky Van, and now, at the end of this my mysterious night-telephone conversation, I felt its thrill and I agreed to her plea. No, dear, I said, and not till afterward did I realize the term I had used. I will not spy. But promise me that you will call on me for any help you may need. And tell me, are you alone or is Julie with you? Julie is with me, she returned. She helps protect me, and with your friendship too I am blessed indeed. But this is good-bye. I shall leave New York in a few days never to return. I must have that mail or I would go at once. If you will help me get that you will do all there is left for anyone to do for me in the world. Her tone frightened me. Vicky, I cried, forgetting all caution. Don't, my dear, don't. But I could not put in words the fear that had suddenly come to me, and even as I stammered for speech the click came that told me she had hung up the receiver. I cursed myself for my stupidity in speaking her name. Such a blunder. Why, it might have been overheard by anybody on the line. No wonder she left me. Doubtless I had driven her from her house. I flew to the window. Then I remembered I had promised not to spy and I turned quickly away. If she were about to disappear silently and stealthily from that house I must not know it. I went to my room but not to sleep. Clearly I was not to know untroubled slumber again very soon. I sat up and thought it all over. How strange that I should have spied on her just at the moment she was secretly getting her letters. But I realized I had looked at the house so often it would be stranger still if I had missed her. And she was to send me her box-key and I was to secrete her letters for her. Important indeed those letters must be that she should go to such lengths to get them. Well, I had constituted myself her knight errant in that particular and I would fulfill the trust. Beneath the thrilling excitement of the knight's occurrence I felt a dull, sad foreboding. All Vicky had said or done pointed to guilt. Had she been innocent she would have told me so by word or by implication. She would have given me a tacit assurance of her guiltlessness or would have cried out at the injustice of suspicion. But none of these things entered into her talk or even into her voice or intonations. She had sounded sad, hopeless, despairing. And her last words made me fear she contemplated taking her own life. Poor little Vicky van. Lighthearted, joy-loving Vicky. What was the mystery back of it all? What could it be? Well, at least I would scrupulously perform the task she had set me and I would do it well. I knew I could manage to get into the house by making up some story for the police. But I must wait for the promised key. With a glimmer of hope that the mailed parcel containing the key might give me a clue to Vicky's whereabouts I at last went to sleep. Next morning at breakfast I said nothing of my night experiences. I told Winnie, however, that she needn't watch the van Allen house as I had heard that Vicky had left it permanently. However, could you hear that? exclaimed my wide awake sister. Have you had a wireless from the fugitive? Something of the sort, I said smilingly. And now listen here, Win. How do you think that friend of yours, Miss Crowell, would like to be a social secretary for Mrs. Keiler? She'd love it, cried Winnie. Does Mrs. Keiler want one? Yes, and she wants her mighty quick. From what you've said of the Crowell girl, I should think she'd be just the one. Can you get her on the telephone? Yes, but not so early as this. I'll call her about ten. All right, you fix it up. I expect Mrs. Keiler will pay proper salary to the right secretary. Of course, Miss Crowell has experienced. Oh, yes, assured Win, and I'm sure she'll love to go. Why any secretary would be glad to go there? Not just now, I should think, observed Aunt Lucy. The amount of work there must be something fearful. It will be heavy for a time, I agreed. But it is only for Mrs. Skyler's personal correspondence and business. I mean the other two ladies would not expect to use her services. All right, said Winnie. I'll fix it up with Edith Crowell, and if she can't go, I'll ask her to recommend somebody. Shall I send her there today? Yes, as soon as she will go. And let me know. Telephone the office about noon. Yep. Winnie promised, and I went away, my head in a whirl with the various and sundry matters I had to attend to. I don't think I thought of the secretary matter again until at noon Winnie telephoned me that it was all right. I thanked her and promptly forgot the episode. And so it was that when I reached home that night I had one of the surprises of my life. Winnie came to dinner smiling and rather excited looking. What's up, infant? I asked. Have you accepted a proposal from a nice college lad? Ha! And Win's head tossed. I guess you'll open your eyes when I tell you what I have accepted. Tell it out, Angel Child. Relieve your own invasions. Well, if you please, I have accepted the post of Social Secretary to Mrs. Randolph Skyler. Winifred Elizabeth Calhoun. You haven't. I thought I'd arouse some slight interest, she said, and she calmly went on with her dinner. I looked at Aunt Lucy who sat with a resigned expression toying with her unused oyster fork. What does she mean, I asked. She has done just what she says, replied Aunt Lucy, but only for a few days. Miss Crowell? Let me tell. Interrupted Winnie. It's my party. You see, that Edith Crowell is wild to have the place and is going to take it, but she can't go until the first of next week. And she doesn't want to lose the chance, so I went over and told Mrs. Skyler about it. And then as she was simply swamped with letters and telegrams and telephones and callers, in goodness knows what all, I offered to help her out till Edith can get there. And she was so grateful. Oh, I think she is a darling. I never saw anyone I liked and admired so much at first sight. She is charming, I conceded, but what a crazy scheme-win. How did you persuade Aunt Lucy to agree? I managed her, and Winnie bobbed her wise young head cannily. It came to me in a moment, though not exactly a tough hunter, and Lucy was deeply impressed by real grandeur and elegance. And it came to me at once that Winnie's tales of the great house and the aristocratic people had a strong influence on her aunt's views and had brought about her permission for Winnie to go there for a few days. And it was no harm. It wasn't as if Winnie were a regular secretary, but just to hold the place for Miss Grohl was simply a kindly deed. And so, after dinner, I settled myself in our cozy library for a comfortable smoke, and Bad Winnie told me every single thing that had happened through the day. Oh, it was thrilling, Winnie exclaimed. Part of the time I was at the desk in the library, and part of the time upstairs in Mrs. Skyler's very own room. She was so kind to me, but she is nearly distracted, and I don't wonder. The undertaker's men were in and out, and those two old maids, his sisters, you know, were everlastingly appearing and disappearing. And they don't like Mrs. Skyler an awful lot, nor she them. Oh, they're polite and all that, but you can see they're of totally different types. I like Mrs. Skyler heaps better, but still, there's something about the old girls that's the real thing. They're Skyler's and also their salt and stalls, and farther back I believe their cabinets are something. And Mrs. Skyler, what is she? I asked as Win paused for breath. I don't know. Nothing particular, I guess. Oh, yes, I learned her name was Allison before she was married, but the sisters don't consult her about family matters at all. They do about clothes, and she knows a lot. Why, Chess, she's having the loveliest things made if they are mourning, and the sisters, they ask her about everything they order, to where I mean. And just think, Mrs. Skyler never wears any jewels but pearls. It's a whim, you know, or it was her husband's whim, or something, but anyway, she has oceans of pearls and no other gems at all. Did she tell you so? Yes, but it came in the conversation, you know. She is no boaster, no sir-ree. She's the modestest, gentlest, sweetest little lady I ever saw. I just love her. Well, I answered a lot of letters for her, and she liked the way I did it, and she liked me, I guess, for she said she only hoped Miss Crowell would suit her as well. She knows you're my sister. Of course. But that isn't why she likes me, old bunch of conceit. Though I must admit she likes you, Chet. She said you were not only kind, but you have a fair amount of intelligence. No, she didn't use those words exactly, but I gathered that was what she meant. The funeral is to be tomorrow evening, you know. I had to write and telephone quite a good deal about that, though the sisters tended to it mostly. Was there much said about, about the actual case, Winnie? You mean about the murder? Wins clear eyes didn't blink at the word. No, not much in my hearing. But Mrs. Skyler wasn't in the room all the time. And I know Mr. Lowney, isn't he the detective, was there once, and I think twice. Did you see anyone else? Only some of the servants. Mrs. Skyler's own maid, her name is Tibbets, is the sort you read about in English novels. A nice motherly woman with gray hair and a black silk apron. I liked her, but the maid who looks after the old sisters, I didn't like so well. Never mind the maids, tell me more about Mrs. Skyler. Does she think Vicky Van killed Mr. Skyler? Since you're in this thing so deep, Win, there's no use mincing matters. I should say not. Yes, of course she thinks the Vicky person did the killing. How could she think anything else? And the two sisters are madly revengeful. As soon as the funeral is over, they're going to work to find that girl and bring her to justice. They say the inquest will help a lot. When will that be, Chess? Can I go to it? No, of course not, Winnie. This came from Aunt Lucy. It's one thing for you to help Mrs. Skyler out in an emergency, but you're not to get mixed up in a murder trial. An inquest isn't a trial, auntie. And Win looked like a wise owl as she aired her new and suddenly acquired knowledge. Can't I go, Chess? We'll see, infant. Perhaps if Mrs. Skyler needs your services, she may want you there with her. Oh, in that case. Begin, Aunt Lucy, but Winnie was off again on one of her enthusiastic descriptions of the grand ways of the Skyler household, and Aunt Lucy was quite willing to listen. As for me, I wanted the benefit of every possible sidelight on the whole business, and I too took in all Winnie's detailed narrations. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of Vicky Van by Carolyn Wells This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 10. The Inquest The Inquest was in progress. In the coroner's courtroom inquiry was being made an endeavor to discover who was responsible for the death of Randolph Skyler. The funeral of the millionaire had taken place, and the will had been read, and now the public awaited news of the action of the police in placing the crime and producing the criminal. The case had become a celebrated one, not only because of the prominence of the victim, but because of the mystery surrounding the young woman suspected of the deed of murder. Many voluntary witnesses had come forward with additional information regarding Victoria Van Allen, but none of these knew anything more of her relatives or progenitors than I did myself. Some of these were asked to testify at the Inquest, but more were not so called on, as their testimony was in no way material or vital. I did not propose to attend all the sessions myself, but I wanted to hear the opening queries and learn just how the case was to be managed. Dr. Remsen told of his examination of Mr. Skyler's body and testified that death was practically instantaneous as a result of a single stab of the short, sharp knife. The knife was produced and identified. It had been carefully taken care of and had been photographed to preserve the faint finger marks which were on its handle, and which might or might not be the prints of the murderer's fingers. The caterer, Frascini, told of his orders for the party supper and of the sending of his best and most faithful waiters to attend to the feast. Luigi, the head waiter, again went over his story. I had heard this twice before, but I listened with deep interest, and I realized that, granting the truth of his recital, there was no room for doubt of Vicky Van's guilt. I hadn't, of course, told of seeing her take her mail from the box that night, nor of her talking to me over the telephone. Should absolute law and justice call for that information, I might give it up, but at present I was awaiting developments. Vicky had sent me her mailbox key and I had received it duly by mail. It was not sent by parcel post nor was it registered, these would have called for the sender's address, but sent by ordinary first-class letter post the flat little key came duly and promptly. I had not used it yet, the time was not ripe until that same night, and I intended to say nothing of it until I had fulfilled my promise, if indeed I ever told of it. But Luigi's story, as I heard it again, made me shiver with apprehension. Surely, since he saw Vicky right there at the moment bending over the victim, blood stains on her gown, there could be no loophole of innocence. Had the murderer been someone else and had Vicky known it, she must have made an outcry, must have accused the guilty party. There was no one whom Vicky loved well enough to wish to shield. And, too, the guests were all in the big living room. There was no one unaccounted for. If Luigi himself or any of the caterer's men had by chance done the deed, Vicky wouldn't have run away. There was no sense in that. So I could see no possible theory but that of Vicky's actual guilt. Why, she did it, was another story. She may have known Skyler before, might have known him a long time, might have had her own reasons for wishing him dead, but all that was outside the issue of her criminality. There was no eye witness of the stabbing itself, but Luigi's presence on the scene an instant later left no room for question as to the hand that held the knife. The jury seemed to think this. Gravely the men listened to what the Italian told and their faces showed what they believed. Then came the guests of the party. One after another they told the same story. All knew Vicky fairly well as a pleasant acquaintance. All liked her as a good friend. All enjoyed her as a delightful hostess. And many told individual instances of Vicky's kind heart and helping hand. Not infrequently had she lent assistance both financial and in other ways to these friends of hers. However they all said, had they known her to do a mean or deceitful act or to say an unkind or malicious word. The men spoke of her as a gay light-hearted butterfly girl who was a coquette but who stopped short of a real flirtation. The women gave her such commendation as is rarely given them to their own sex and declared that Miss Van Allen was a simple, kindly, generous nature without a trace of the disposition which causes a woman to be dubbed a cat. When Steele was present he explained his sudden departure from the party by the fact that he had to catch an owl train for Chicago. He said further that Randolph Schuyler had asked him to take him around to Vicky Vans as he wanted to meet her. But he had asked Steele especially to introduce him as Mr. Summers. He had given no reason for this and Steele had thought little of it. Randolph Schuyler was a man whom his friends obeyed often without question. I understood this. Steele was no more of a toady to the millionaire than most men would be, but a request of Randolph Schuyler's was not to be thoughtlessly refused so Steele acquiesced. He was reticent in further dilating on Schuyler's character. Said he often called on ladies who could not be called exclusive but denied knowledge of definite cases or names. On the whole Steele's evidence didn't get us anywhere. We already knew that Schuyler had gone to Vicky Vans under an assumed name. The reason for this had little if anything to do with what had followed. A connection of some sort between Vicky and Mr. Schuyler must be traced in order to arrive at her possible motive. A woman does not stab to kill a chance guest whom she has never met before. Bert Garrison came next. His talk ran mostly to eulogies of Vicky. The poor fellow was dead in love with her and had been for many moons, but though Vicky favored him more than some others, yet she gave him no definite encouragement as he himself roofily admitted. But he made it desperate effort to show that a girl of Victoria Van Allen's high character and fine qualities would be incapable of a base deed. The coroner smiled a little at Garrison's vehemence and let him run on for a time in praise of the absent Vicky. At last he said, And why then, Mr. Garrison, in your opinion, has Miss Van Allen disappeared? The disappearance is not of her own volition, declared Garrison. She has been taken away by somebody and held against her will in order to make her appear guilty. This was a new theory. I might have given it serious consideration had I not had speech with the girl herself. It couldn't be that Vicky was held captive since she was at her own house two nights after the crime. But I could see that the jury and even the coroner and detectives were interested in this idea. By whom could she possibly or theoretically be thus held? The coroner asked. I don't know. But assuming some intruder affected an entrance and stabbed Mr. Schuyler, if surprised during or after the act by the sudden appearance of Miss Van Allen in the dining room, he might in some way have gotten her out of the house and still be keeping her in a hiding place. It was perhaps a possibility, but I didn't see how any intruder could do all that without being seen by the waiters. Unless, perchance, the waiters had been bribed to silence. And that in the face of Luigi's earnest and convincing testimony I could not believe. It was a fantastic theory evolved in the brain of Garrison for the purpose of diverting suspicion from Vicky Van. However, it seemed to impress the coroner and he made notes as he dismissed the witness. Cassie Weldon added one bit of new information. She said, though with evident reluctance that she had got a mere glimpse of somebody running upstairs just before the waiter had come to call for help. Cassie had not wanted to testify at all. As she had intimated to me it was detrimental to her work as a concert singer to be mixed up in this affair. But since she had to give her testimony she apparently felt at her duty to tell the whole truth. How could you see the stairs from the living room? asked the interested coroner. I was near the door and though I was not looking out into the hall I had a vague fleeting impression of somebody running upstairs. I paid no attention to it of course but I am sure somebody did. A man or a woman. A woman. That is I was conscious of a flutter of skirts but I am not sure it was Miss Van Allen. I didn't see her clearly enough even to notice the color of her gown. It was merely a glimpse of someone flying round the Newell post and up the stairs. It might have been a stranger. You mean if there were some intruder it may have been a woman and not a man? I don't know I tell you. I can only say I know somebody ran upstairs. Further than that I have no idea concerning it. It must have been Miss Van Allen, said the coroner decidedly. Had it been any other woman and had she stabbed Mr. Schuyler Miss Van Allen would not have disappeared. Now if this woman who ran upstairs was Miss Van Allen she affected an escape from the upper stories. Is there a skylight exit? No one seemed to know as no one had thought of Vicky Van leaving her house by such means. But to me the idea was ridiculous. A girl in a elaborate evening gown could I bring out of a skylight trap door to wear. Not to a neighbors for Vicky Van knew none of the nearby residents. I had heard her say so myself and had she descended into a strange household and begged for shelter it would have become known before this. Well anyway the detective Launey immediately sent an order to have the skylight matter looked into and the proceedings went on. Ariadne Gale was closely questioned as to how she knew of the picture in the back of Randolph Schuyler's watch. But she declared that he had shown it to her during their conversation that evening. I never saw the man before said Ariadne who unlike Cassie Walden rather enjoyed the publicity of the occasion. I chanced to be about the first girl he was introduced to when he came into the house and we had a chat and when I chapped him a bit on his dignity and awe inspiring presence he refuted it by showing me the picture in his watch. He said it was a little chorus girl he had taken out to supper the night before. I could see the picture had been merely tucked in temporarily it wasn't neatly pasted in as a watch case picture usually is and then I chapped him on his fickleness. Our conversation was the merest foolery and a moment after he went over to be presented to Miss Van Allen. You think they had never met before. I'm sure they had not. They looked at each other with the conventional politeness of strangers. I know Miss Van Allen well and she's not wanted to assemble or pretend. I am sure she had never laid eyes on that man before. She simply couldn't have killed him. Ariadne's further evidence amounted to nothing nor did that of several other of the party guests who were called on. Except Mrs. Reeves. She knew more of Vicki's home life than any of the rest of us but even she knew nothing of the girl's origin. She had first met her at one of Miss Gale's studio parties and had taken a fancy to her at once. Where did you first meet her Miss Gale? The coroner interrupted to ask. She came to my studio to look at my pictures was the reply. She admired them and bought one. She was so pleasant and so interested in my work that she came two or three times and then I invited her to one of my little studio affairs. She quickly made friends and she invited us to her house. I went there first about two years ago. So did I. Mrs. Reeves resumed. And since then I have been there frequently and every time I saw the girl I liked her better. But she was always a bit of a mystery. I confess I tried at times to learn something of her previous life but she adroitly evaded my questions and cleverly changed the subject. I think however from chance hence she let drop that her home was somewhere in the Middle West. An indefinite term observed coroner Fen. It's all I know. Where did Miss Van Allen go on her frequent absences from home? That I don't know either. Often she'd be away a week and on her return would tell of a gay house party down on Long Island or a weekend trip up Westchester Way but I don't remember any definite place she visited. I do, piped up Ariadne. She often goes to Greenwich, Connecticut and to Bronxville. I've heard her tell of these trips. She has a wide circle of acquaintances and of course she's a favorite with all who know her. I have a piece of evidence, resumed Mrs. Reeves, which I daresay I ought to exhibit. It is a letter from Miss Van Allen which I received only this morning. This caused a sensation. A letter from Vicky Van, just received. I found myself trembling in my shoes and I asked myself why. Was I afraid the girl would be caught? Did I want to shield a felon? And I had to admit to myself that I did. I wasn't in love with Vicky Van but I had a tremendous interest in her and I didn't want that little lone helpless person hailed before a court of justice. Vicky did seem terribly alone. Hosts of friends she had but no one was in any way responsible for her or in a position to help her. Well if she ever returned voluntarily or perforce she would find a friend and champion in one Chester Calhoun, of that I was certain. Mrs. Reeves handed her letter over to the coroner and he read it out. It ran. My dear Mrs. Reeves, you have always been such a good friend to me that I am writing you just a line. You are everything that is good and kind and now I'm going to ask you as a final favor to forget Vicky Van at once and forever. I am going away and I shall never return. Don't think of me any more hardly than you must but if you can keep any loving little memory of the hours we spent together I want you to do so. And as a remembrance I want you to have my little electric coupe. It is in Menard's garage and I have written him to turn it over to you. I shall miss our happy times together but I can never come back. Do not worry about me I am safe and I am your affectionate Vicky Van. You are sure this is from Miss Van Allen asked Ben. Oh yes, replied Mrs. Reeves, there's no mistaking that writing. Nor was there. I knew Vicky's penmanship and it was most peculiar. Never had I seen such a hand. Angular, slightly backhanded and full of character it would be difficult to imitate it and to no one would have any reason to forge that letter to Mrs. Reeves. She had verified Vicky's statement and found that a letter to the garage owner had instructed him to give up the car to Mrs. Reeves and he had already done so that very morning. The letters had both been mailed in New York the night before, the postmark showing that they were mailed in the district that included Vicky's residence. Was she then even now in hiding near her home or had she sent the letters to be mailed by someone else? By Julie perhaps who I felt sure was with her mistress wherever that might be. My leaping thoughts took in all this and by degrees the slower going corner put it in words. Launey the detective bristled with interest. A clue he had he thought but what a clue. Two letters posted in the city. What did they show of the whereabouts of the missing girl? Launey scrutinized the one to Mrs. Reeves. Ordinary paper such as might be bought in any stationery or department store, no monogram or initial on it nor was there any maker's name under the flap. But a dozen people present testified to Vicky's handwriting and the coroner eagerly took possession of the letter. Sherlock Holmes I thought to myself would read that letter, look at it through his good old lens, smell it and then walk out and return in a half hour with Vicky Van and Toe. But for my part I could see nothing illuminating in that plain paper and envelope and the letter in the well-known penmanship. All I gathered was that wherever Vicky was she was not only safe but comfortable. The tenor of the note breathed leisure and composure. Clearly she was not breathlessly hurrying from one place to another or a vigilantly eluding pursuit. She was at ease with opportunity to indulge in thoughtful kindness to a friend and to write at length about herself. At length, yes, but with no hint of her hiding place nor any clue to it. Poor little Vicky. She seemed so alone and yet how did I know? She may have gone to friends or somehow I hated to think that she had any man who was her legal or even willing protector. Yet she said she was safe and her letter showed no fear of the future. And then again I was stabbed by the thought that perhaps there was no earthly future for Vicky Van. I didn't want her to kill herself. I didn't want her to be found and arrested. What did I want? I wasn't sure in my own mind save that I wanted her safety above all else. I suppose I believed her guilty. I could believe nothing else. But even so, I didn't want her brought to bay. I gave my own testimony, which was all true and all frank, except that I said nothing of my nocturnal visit to Vicky's house or of our telephone conversation. If my conscience smote me, I combatted it with my chivalry, which would not allow me to betray a woman into the hands of the law. The later witnesses who were mostly the working people whom Vicky employed by the day told nothing of her or of her home life. They all spoke of her as a kind lady to work for, though as a rule they had not seen her, but had been engaged, directed and paid by the maid Julie. It seemed to be tacitly assumed that wherever Vicky was, Julie was with her. I had had this information from Vicky herself, but others took it for granted in the absence of any reason to think the contrary. The whole day's session to my mind achieved little of useful information. Mrs. Reeve's letter proved conclusively that Vicky was aware of the search being made for her and showed her determination not to be found. It was Saturday, and when the inquest was adjourned until Monday morning I couldn't help feeling that it might as well have been permanently adjourned, for all the further conclusions it would lead to. I went home at last, thrilling with the thought that that night I was to get Vicky's mail from her box and hide it where she had directed. I secretly hoped she might be in the house herself waiting for it, but scarcely dared believe this would be the case. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of Vicky Van by Carolyn Wells This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 11. A note from Vicky Nor was it. I had secured a latchkey to the house from the police who were willing enough for me to search for possible clues as I had told them I would do. At their wit's end to locate Vicky Van they welcomed my help and felt that as a friend of hers I might learn more than a disinterested policeman could. So well after midnight watching my chance when the patrolman had just passed on his regular round I went across the street. Easily I opened the mailbox and extracted a quantity of letters. Quietly then I opened the house door and went in. I had provided myself with a pocket flashlight as I didn't want to illuminate the house and I went at once to the music room to perform my errand. How strange it seemed. The lovely room with dainty white and gold furnishings reminded me so forcibly of the bewitching girl who owned it all. A thousand questions rose in my mind. What would become of that bijoux residence? The brick of rack and pictures, the rugs and furniture while not magnificent were of the best and many of them costly. The great Chinese vase into which I was to drop the letters was a gem of its kind though not anything a connoisseur would covet. I raised the dragon-topped lid and let the letters fall in. Replacing the lid I still lingered. My errand was done but I felt an impulse to stay. Everything spoke to me a vicky van. Where was she now? Making sure that the opaque blinds were drawn I dared to turn on one tiny electric lamp. The faint light made the shadowed room lovelier than ever. Could a girl of such cultivated taste and such refinement of character be a a wrong doer? I couldn't say murderer even to myself. Then my common sense flared up and told me that crime is no respecter of persons, that women who had slain human beings were not necessarily of this or that walk of life. Granted a woman had a motive to kill a man, that motive lay in the impulses of her feminine nature and revenge, jealousy, fear, love, or hate. Whatever the motive it was of deep and overpowering and might find its root in equal likeness in the breast of queen or beggar maid. I could not say Vicki was incapable of crime. Indeed her gay volatile manner might hide a deeply perturbed spirit. She was an enigma and I I must solve the riddle. I felt I should never rest until I knew the truth and if Vicki were a martyr to circumstances or a victim to fate I must know all about it. Alone there in the midnight hours I resolved to devote my time, all I could spare, my energies, all I could command and my life so far as I might to the discovery of the truth and I might or might not reveal my findings as seemed to me best. Leaving the music room I went back through the long hall and passed the door of Vicki's bedroom. Reverently I looked inside. The very walls seemed crying for her to come back. Would she ever do so? I wandered on through the bedroom and even looked in the dressing room. I felt no compunction. It was not from idle curiosity, rather I walked as one at a shrine. The exquisitely feminine boudoir was a mute witness to a love of beauty and art. I used only my flashlight, but on an impulse I turned on one light by the side of the long mirror. I looked in as Vicki must often have done when dressing for her parties as indeed she must have done when dressing that last fatal night and seeing my own grim reflection I gravely knotted my head at myself. And whispered, we'll find the truth, old man, you see if we don't. In the ornate Florentine frame with its branching arabesque was a strand of the gold beads that had adorned Vicki's gown that night. I visualized her, whirling her skirts about before the mirror with that quick lithe grace of hers and catching the fluttering fringe in the guilt protuberance. Perhaps she exclaimed in petulance, but more likely I thought she laughed at the trivial accident. That was Vicki van as I knew her to laugh at a missed chance and smile good naturally at an accident. I lifted the strand of little beads from the entangling frame and put it away in my pocketbook as a dear and intimate souvenir of the girl I had known. Then with a final glance that was a sort of farewell, I glimpsed the pretty cozy nest and went downstairs. Here I paused again. Cassie Weldon had said she could see the staircase from the door of the living room. I tried it. She was right. A person standing just inside the living room door could catch a side of a person on the stairs. And as Cassie said, she was not looking that way, but was partly conscious of someone running up the stairs. It might well be. She would naturally give the incident no thought at the moment. It was strange she had even remembered it. And it may have been Vicki. Then she might have descended by the rear staircase. There probably was one, I didn't know. And anyway, what mattered how she had left the house? She had left it and had not returned. I remembered the illusion to the skylight. In a jiffy I had run upstairs clear to the highest story. There was a skylight or scuttle rather and it was bolted on the inside. That settled that. Vicki Van had not climbed out that way and I for one never supposed she had. Strangely reluctant to leave the house I went downstairs again, looked into the living room and passed on to the dining room. I contemplated the sideboard in front of which Randolph Schuyler had met his death. Many pieces of silver and glass stood upon it and all was in order as if it had been carefully looked after for the party occasion. Without consciously noting details I chanced to observe that a small silver handled carving fork was lacking its knife. I had no knowledge of Vicki Van's table appurtenances but the way the fork lay looked to me as if the knife had lain across it and had been removed. I had no concern over it for I knew the knife that had stabbed Schuyler was now in possession of the police and this one had doubtless been used in preparation of the supper if indeed there was a knife belonging to the fork. It was a matter of no moment but somehow it stuck in my mind. If Vicki or rather if Julie had straightened up things on the sideboard in the process of tidying up for the party would she not have laid the fork a different way unless there had been a matching knife to lay across it? I suppose the whole question came into my mind because at home we had a beef steak carving set that always lay crossed on the sideboard. A man gets accustomed to the sight of such household details and they photographed on his memory. Well anyway I looked for that knife. I even went to the butler's pantry and looked but I didn't see it. The pantry had been hastily evacuated by the caterer's men and though tidied it was not in Spickenspan condition. You see having lived so long with two such homey bodies as Aunt Lucy and Win I was not utterly unversed in domestic matters. The pantry was well equipped with modern utensils and implements and all its appointments spoke of the taste and efficiency of its mistress. Poor Vicky. I sighed to myself. Poor dear little Vicky van. And then I went softly out the front door and down the steps. I went slowly and looked back several times in a vague hope that Vicky might emerge from some nearby shadow and go into the house for her letters. But I saw no sign of such a happening and went on home. My heart full of a gloomy foreboding that I would never see her again. Going to work on Sunday, Winnie, I asked as next morning my sister appeared garbed for the street. Not regularly to work, but Mrs. Skyder wants me to look after some matters of confidence. Oh, how important we are. I chapped her. When does the crow well lady come into her own? Not for another week. She isn't quite ready to come and Mrs. Skyder is willing to keep me on a while longer. I don't blame her and I looked at my pretty bright-faced sister with approval. I say, old girl, suppose I stroll over with you. Come along. Though I'm not sure Mrs. Skyder will see you, she usually sends me to receive callers. Well, little miss manage it, I could even live through that. And perhaps I'll get a look in with the fair sisters-in-law. That surely, if you wish, they're ready and eager to see visitors. I believe they love to go over the details of the whole affair with anyone who will listen. Oh, come now, Wynn, not as bad as that. They don't think it's bad. They're bound to track down the Van Allen girl and they hold the opinion that everybody they get hold of may be an important witness. They go over their reports from the inquest all the time and can hardly wait till tomorrow to see what will come out next. Me for them, I responded. I'd like a good chat on the subject. We went over to the Fifth Avenue House and were admitted by the solemn and wise-eyed butler. I was shown to the library while Wynn he was directed to go to Mrs. Schuyler's room. But it was not long before we were all together in the library, widow, sisters, and all, for Lowney had made a discovery and he proposed to tell the family of it. Wynn and I were allowed to be present and the detective showed his new find. It seems he had been searching the papers and letters of the late Mr. Schuyler. This had been not only permitted by the wife but had been urged by the sisters who hoped it might result in some further light on the mysterious Miss Van Allen. And it did. In the desk in a secret compartment which was not so secret but that the detective could open it were a number of letters from feminine pens and a number of receded bills for jewel trinkets presumably sent to these or other ladies for they were not of a sort affected by Ruth Scott or the two sisters. A blue enameled watch bracelet and a rhinestone tiara were representative purchases entered on these bills. But the pile of letters sank into insignificance when we learned the fact that there was a letter from Vicky Van among them. Regardless of Mrs. Schuyler's feelings Lowney read the letter aloud. This was it. My dear Mr. Schuyler I enjoyed your separate party and it was good of you to give me inside information about the stocks but I must beg of you to seize your further attentions to me as I cannot number on my list of calling acquaintances the husband of another woman. I am perhaps rather prudish in my view of life but this is one of my inviolable rules. Very truly yours. Victoria Van Allen. I knew that before. Vicky Van living alone and unchaperoned safe with the ubiquitous Julie flouted convention in many ways but it was as she said her inviolable rule to receive no married man without his wife at her parties nor was there often occasion for her to use this stipulation. The young people whom I had met at her house had always been maids and bachelors and now and then a young married couple who playfully enacted a chaperone part. Mrs. Reeves a widow was probably the oldest of the crowd but she was well under 40. It was quite true. No married man and indeed no man of the type or age of Randolph Schuyler had ever to my knowledge enjoyed the friendship of Vicky Van. But not for a minute did I think that she would go so far as to kill him for daring to enter her house. That was unthinkable. And yet it seemed so to lowny and apparently to the sisters of the dead man. She declared that the letter proved that Randolph had intruded on her acquaintance and she had objected from coin as her cockatry and that when he persisted she was so enraged that she flew into a passion and willfully ended his life. I can't think that said Ruth Schuyler wearily. It seems more to me as if that letter exculpates the girl. She was quite evidently not in love with my husband and she honestly tried to make him understand her scruples. So I can't think she killed him. I did think so at first of course but on thinking things over and in the light of this letter I begin to believe her innocent. What date does the letter bear? There's no date. Said lowny looking at the paper. It was not in an envelope. Then how did it reach my husband? Oh of course it came in an envelope I suppose but I found none with it. So we can't tell where it was said here or to one of his clubs or to his office address. Not here I'm sure said Mrs. Schuyler. Probably to his club. You are quite welcome to the letter Mr. Lowny. Make what use you think best of it. If it serves to establish Miss Van Allen's innocence I shall be rather glad. But if it seems to throw further suspicion on her than justice must be done. Of course it throws suspicion on that woman. Declared Miss Rota Schuyler with a vindictive glance at the letter in Lowny's hand. The hussy to write to Randolph at all. But I interposed unable to stand this unjust speech. Mr. Schuyler must have made advances to her first. She lured him on. I've heard you say yourself Mr. Calhoun that this Van Allen person is a siren. Uh. Now I began but the other sister chimed in. Of course she is. Of course the wrong was mostly hers. And she killed Randolph. I know it. Why the waiter man saw her. Go ahead Mr. Lowny. Hunt her down and bring her to account. I never shall sleep peacefully until my brother's death is avenged. I cannot understand Ruth how you can be so indifferent. A flush rose to Ruth Schuyler's cheek and enlightened anew to her husband's character by that letter. I began to feel a different sort of sympathy for the widow. Randolph Schuyler had been unfaithful. He had been domineering and tyrannical and I knew he had not allowed his wife to have the comforts and luxuries she desired although he was enormously wealthy. A social secretary for instance. Most women of Ruth Schuyler's rank in society had that necessary assistant yet during Schuyler's life his wife was forbidden the favor. Winnie had told me this and had told me much more that proved how unjust and unkind Randolph Schuyler had been. The sisters too shared his views and as a consequence the household was run on old fashioned lines that ill accord with the ways of today. Mrs. Schuyler had in no way complained when told me but it was easily seen how matters stood. It fell to Winnie's lot to order many things from the shops stationary mourning apparel and house needs. These my sister said were ordered with the most perfect taste but with a lavishness which was indubitably unusual to Ruth Schuyler. The sisters exclaimed at the extravagance but Ruth though listening politely serenely went her own way and carried out her own plans. In the matter of fresh flowers she was like a child when said and she enjoyed the blossom she ordered as if she had hungered for them for years. Winnie was growing deeply attached to her employer if that word is applicable and Ruth Schuyler was fond of when but I am digressing Mrs. Schuyler replied to her sister-in-law's speech by saying gently I am not indifferent Sarah but it seems to me we have no real evidence against the girl and no real evidence when she was caught red-handed or nearly caught if that stupid waiter had had sense enough to jump and grab her we would have had no search to make it all. It may be so Sarah you may be right but until you do find her don't condemn her utterly from what Mr. Calhoun has told me of her and from the tone of that letter she wrote to Randolph I can't make it seem possible that she killed a man she knew so slightly and yet it may be she did well remarked Lowney the note proves that she had seen Mr. Schuyler before anyway then when he came to her house as Mr. Summers she was naturally annoyed as she had asked him not to do so and all that is against the girl I say but it remains to be seen what the coroner's jury will think of it they'll see it in its true light declared Rhoda Schuyler of course she was angry when he came to her house after being forbidden unless the sigh thing wrote the note just to lure him on but in any case she was alone with him she used the knife on him and she ran away what more evidence do you need now to find her that's a task I shall never give up or neglect until I've accomplished it and you are right Rhoda said Ruth if the girl is guilty I hope she will be found for I'm sure the truth could then be learned whether she is guilty or not will you come now Mrs. Schuyler said tidbits from the doorway the flowers have arrived Ruth beckoning to Winnie Rose in the tulip the room perfectly idiotic said Sarah the way she orders flowers fresh ones every day but hasn't she a right to spend her own money as she likes I defended a legal right perhaps was the retort but not a moral right to disregard her husband's wishes so utterly end of chapter 11 chapter 12 of Vicki Van by Carolyn Wells this LibriVox recording is in the public domain 12 more notes next morning at breakfast there was but one topic of conversation indeed little else had been talked of for days but the Schuyler case and all its side issues Winnie held forth at length on the martyrdom Ruth Schuyler had suffered because of the cruelty of her late husband he wasn't really ugly you know explained Win and I don't say she's glad he's dead but he thwarted her in every little way that she wanted to enjoy herself they had a box at the opera and a big country house and all that but he wouldn't let her go to Matine's or have a motor of her own or buy anything until he had passed judgment on it she even had to submit her costume designs to him and if he approved to the dressmaker made them up and he wouldn't let her have fashionable clothes they had to be plain and of rich heavy material such as the sisters wear Mr. Schuyler was under the thumb of those two old maids and Rota especially put him up to all sorts of schemes to bother Ruth do you call her Ruth? I asked in surprise yes she told me I might she's lovely to me and I'm so glad to do all I can for her honest yet she lived an awful life with that man I'd like to see her said Aunt Lucy all you've said about her when he makes me a bit curious so you shall Auntie sometime she's a real friend of mine now and even after Edith Crowell goes there as secretary she says I must often go to see her as her friend she's charming I declared every time I see her I'm more impressed with her gentle dignity and I don't know how she can be so decent to those two old women nor I agreed when as Aunt Lucy asked is she pretty is she winny I said well she is and she isn't she's so colorless you know her hair is that flat as she blonde and she's so pale always then her eyes and lashes are so light and well ineffective but her expression is so sweet and when once in a while she laughs outright she's very attractive and she's such a thoroughbred she never airs in taste of judgment she knows just what to reply to all the queer letters of condolence that come to her and just how to talk to the people who call and that's another thing she hasn't any friends of her own age she knows only the people who belong to the most exclusive set and they're nearly all the age of the old sisters but Mrs. Skyler is lovely to them and in her soft pretty black gown she looks a whole lot better than she ever did in the ones she wore while he was alive I've seen them in her wardrobe and I've seen her try on some that she was going to give away and their sights elegant you know but not the thing for her now that she can select her own she has beauties she certainly must be glad then to be freed from such a tyrant said Aunt Lucy now don't you think that insisted Winnie earnestly she may feel so way down in her deepest heart but she won't admit it even to herself and of course no matter how much she didn't love him she wouldn't want him taken off that way no she's perfectly all right and she mourns that man just as sincerely as any woman could mourn a man who didn't understand her I looked at Win in amazement little sister was growing up it seemed well the experience would do her no harm Ruth Skyler's influence could only work for good and a taste of real life would give a wider outlook than when would get at home I went down to the coroner's courtroom the inquest was proceeding in its usual discursive way and I sat down to listen for a while the coroner was hearing reports from detectives who had interviewed the market men and shopkeepers where Vicki Van had bought wares it was just what might be expected for many householders record Vicki had always paid her bills promptly usually by check on a well-known bank sometimes if the bills were small they were paid in cash in such case Ms. Van Allen herself or the maid brought the money if checks they were sent by mail the garage man reported a similar state of affairs his monthly bills were promptly paid and Ms. Van Allen had found no fault with his service she was away from home frequently but when at home she used her motor car often and was kind to the chauffeur who drove her this chauffeur told of taking her to the shops to the theater to friends houses and to picture galleries but never had been directed to any place where a lady might not go the bank people said that Ms. Van Allen had had an account with them for years but as their depositors were entitled to confidential dealings they would say little more they stated however that Ms. Van Allen was a most desirable patron and never overdrew her account or made trouble of any sort there was nothing to be gleaned from this kind of testimony we all knew that Vicki was a good citizen and all this was merely corroboration what was wanted was some hint of her present whereabouts Launey had tried to get at this by the use of an address book he had found in Vicki Van's desk he had telephoned or called on many of the people whose addresses were in the book but all said over and over what we already knew personally I felt sure that Vicki was staying with some friend not far from her own house it could well be that somebody cared enough for the girl to hide her from the authorities this however argued her guilty for otherwise a true friend would persuade her that the wiser course would be to disclose herself to the public however nothing transpired to bear out my opinion and as the list of witnesses dwindled no progress was made toward a solution of the mystery and so when at last an open verdict was returned with no mention of Vicki's name I was decidedly relieved but I didn't see how it could have been otherwise I dropped in at the Schuyler house on my way home I was beginning to feel on a very friendly footing there and partly owing to Winnie's graphic powers of narration I took an increasing interest in Ruth Schuyler as Win had said she looked charming although pathetic in her black robes she permitted herself a touch of white at the turned-in throat and a white flower was tucked in her bodice a contrast indeed to the severe garb of the Spencer sisters who looked like allegorical figures of hopeless gloom but their manner was more of militant revenge and having heard the verdict of the coroner's jury they were ready to take up the case themselves come in Mr. Calhoun they called out as I entered the library you're just the man we want to see now that the coroner has finished his task we will take the matter up Mr. Lowney I suppose will continue the search for Ms. Van Allen but we fear he will not be successful so we have determined to send for the great detective Fleming Stone Stone I cried why he won't work with the police then he can work without them declared Rota with asparity I've heard wonderful stories of that man's success and we're going to engage him at once he's very expensive I began no matter we're going to find our brother's murderer if it takes every penny of our fortune what do you think of this plan Mrs. Geiler I asked I've not been consulted she said with a slight smile since Mr. Randolph's sisters choose to adopt it I have no reason to object I know nothing of Mr. Stone but if he really is a great detective he will not condemn that girl unheard and if she is proved guilty of course the claims of justice must be met do you know him Mr. Calhoun not personally I've often heard of him and he's a wonder if you want to find Miss Van Allen you can't do better than to get him on the trail if he can't find her nobody can that's what I say put in Sarah and if he doesn't find her at least we've the satisfaction of knowing we've done all we could we thought of offering a reward for information of Miss Van Allen added Rota but if we're going to get Mr. Stone wouldn't it be better to consult him about that I think it would I judged just then Winnie came into the room she had been writing notes and she held a lot of unopened letters in her hand oh Ruth she cried what do you think here's the mail Jepson just gave it to me and there's a letter for you for Miss Van Allen what? cried everybody at once yes declared Winnie I know the hand it's the same as was on that letter to Mr. Schuyler it's such a queer hand you can't forget it she handed all the letters to Ruth the one she referred to on top Mrs. Schuyler turned pale as she looked at the envelope I glanced at it too and without doubt it was Vicki Van's writing it had been mailed in New York that same morning and delivered just now about five o'clock you open it Mr. Calhoun said Ruth as if she shrank from the task I took it gravely for it seemed to me to portend trouble for little Vicki was she giving herself up or what? Win handed me a letter opener and I slit the envelope as they breathed thus they awaited my words I read to Mrs. Randolph Schuyler dear madam it is useless to look for me today I am leaving New York forever the mystery of Mr. Schuyler's death will never be solved the truth never learned I alone know the secret and it will die with me you may employ detectives from now till doomsday but you will discover nothing so give up the search for you will never find Victoria Van Allen there was a pause as I finished reading myself I was thrilled by a certain phrase in the letter Vicki said the secret will die with me again I felt that she was intending to bring about her own death and that speedily would we know it if she did I was thinking deeply when Miss Rhoda spoke I believe that girl means to kill herself and I should think she would why do you think that and Ruth looked up with a startled face it sounds so and it would be the natural outcome of her remorse at her dreadful deed I think she must be guilty said Winnie her dear little counten and strong with grief as she studied the letter for herself none of us said much more we all were stunned in a way by this unexpected development and had to readjust our theories well Miss Rhoda said decidedly I shall consult Mr. Stone anyway I've written him and though I've not mailed the letter yet I shall send it off tonight then when he comes to talk it over we can see what he says and abide by his judgment that's a good idea Rhoda and Ruth Skyler nodded assentingly I too want justice and if Flemingstone thinks he can find Miss Van Allen let him do so it was six o'clock then and Winnie and I went home leaving the Skyler ladies to their own discussions Ruth Skyler's hand lingered a moment in mine as I bat her adieu and she said wispily I wish you would tell me just what you think we had better do I am so unaccustomed to judging for myself in any important matter I think it is wise to get Mr. Stone I returned in any case it can do no harm you know no I suppose not and she gave me one of her rare smiles of appreciation I am glad you are looking after us instead of Mr. Bradbury she said further and I sincerely responded that I was glad too another surprise awaited me at home on the hall table lay my own mail and as I picked it up and ran the letters over there was one from Vicky Van I hastily concealed it from Winnie's sharp eyes or I had no notion what it might divulge and hurried with it up to my own room impatiently I tore it open and raced through its contents Dear Mr. Calhoun thank you deeply for attending to my errand owing to your kindness I received the letters I wanted now will you do me one last favor come again to the house tonight and take a small parcel which you will find in the Chinese jar in the music room keep this for me and if I do not ask you for it within a year destroy it unopened I wish I could be more frank with you you have proved yourself such a staunch friend but I cannot control circumstances and so I must bear my fate I do not know what Mrs. Skyler will think of it but I have written her a letter when you see her try to make her realize it is useless to hunt for me since I can keep hidden for this length of time my retreat is not likely to be discovered and now my kindest of friends goodbye Vicky Van I stood staring at the letter I read it through a dozen times of course I would do her bidding but my heart rebelled at the finality of the lines I knew I would never hear from Vicky Van again as she said since we hadn't traced her yet we never could I wondered where she could possibly be and Julie too somebody was shielding them both they couldn't be disguised or anything of that sort for they had left the house at dead of night without luggage or and I hadn't thought of this before without money how could they have found shelter save in some friend's house of course Vicky could have snatched up her purse as she ran perhaps that was what she flew upstairs for and then maybe she went down the back stairs but no the waiters must have seen her that way and Luigi was in the front hall a moment after Vicky disappeared aside from my personal interest I hated to think I should never know just how she did get away for now I had no hope that Flemingstone or anyone else could ever find the girl she was too canny to be taken after her successful concealment so far I went downstairs after a time but I said nothing of my letter to Aunt Lucy Arwin they were eagerly discussing the latest news and Aunt Lucy was saying yes I've heard of Mr. Stone and they do say he's a marvel I hope he'll find the girl if only to learn the mystery of her disappearance oh he'll find her assured Winnie I've heard a lot about him over there and he's a wizard but I think he'll have a long chase meantime what becomes of the house queried Aunt Lucy what does Chet can anyone go in it who likes no I returned a little shortly for I foresaw Aunt Lucy had that absurd feminine desire to pry into another person's home it's in charge of the police and they won't let anyone in without some very good reason couldn't you get in I suppose I might I admitted unwillingly if I had any business there oh do get up some business Chet begged Winnie and get the keys and let Annie and me go with you oh do I'd love to see that girl's things Winnie you're positively low-bred to show such curiosity I exclaimed angrily the more so that I had the house key in my pocket at that moment but I was glad I had not told them a Vicky van's letter to me I waited until well past midnight and then after seeing the post patrol past Vicky's door I softly went out of my own house and across the street I walked calmly up the steps of Vicky's home and sadly put the latch key in the door for the last time I felt as if I were performing funeral rites and I entered and closed the door behind me softly as one does in the house of death I went up the stairs in the gloom it was not black darkness for a partly raised blind gave me a glimmer of light from the street into the music room I went and by my pocket flashlight I took the lid from the Chinese jar but there was no parcel inside amazed I threw the light down into the big vase but it was utterly empty there was no use looking elsewhere for the parcel I knew Vicky well enough to know that she would do exactly as she had said or since she hadn't I was sure that she would not have left that parcel in any other hiding place I put the flashlight back in my pocket and started downstairs slowly I descended for I still felt a little uncertain what to do should I wait for a short time or go back home and return again later I reached the foot of the stairs and concluded to go home and then think out my next step as I passed the living room door I heard a low voice whisper my name I turned sharply in the doorway I could dimly discern a cloaked figure hash she said softly and beckoned to me it was Vicky van end of chapter 12