CHAPTER XIII
FLEMING STONE
Vicky had said "Hush!" but it was an unnecessary precaution, for I wastoo stunned to articulate. I peered at her in the darkness and then,unable to control my desire for certainty I flashed my little pocketlight on her for an instant.
"Don't!" she whispered, putting her hands up before her face.
But I had seen. It was really Vicky Van, her smooth black hair loopedover her ears, her scarlet mouth, and soft pink cheeks, flushed withexcitement of the moment, and her long dark lashes, which suddenlyfell beneath the blinding flare of the light, all were those of therunaway girl.
"Don't talk," she said, hastily, "let me do the talking. I want you tohelp me, will you?"
"Of course, I will," and all sense of law and justice fled before thewave of pity and solicitude for the trembling suppliant who thusappealed to me.
Her voice was indistinct and a little hoarse, as if she was laboringunder great mental and nerve strain, and she was so alone, sounprotected, that I couldn't help promising any assistance in mypower.
"There wasn't any parcel in the big vase," I said, in a low voice, asshe seemed to hesitate about going on with her explanation.
"No, here it is," and she handed me a little box, "Just put it awaysafely for the present. And now, this is what I want to ask of you.Don't let them engage that Mr. Stone, to hunt me down, will you?"
"Why, how can I help it?"
"Oh, can't you?" and she sounded so disappointed; "I hoped you couldpersuade Mrs. Schuyler not to have him."
"But Mrs. Schuyler doesn't want him, either!" I exclaimed. "It's thosetwo sisters who insist on getting him. And I never could turn theirwills, try as I might."
"Why doesn't Mrs. Schuyler want him?"
"Oh, I'm not sure that she really objects to the plan, but, I mean shedidn't seem as anxious as the other two. You see, little girl, thewidow of Randolph Schuyler isn't so bitter against you as the twosisters are."
"That's good of her," and Vicky's voice was wistful. "But, you know Imust remain in hiding--"
"I thought you were going to leave New York?"
"I am. And at once. But if that Mr. Stone gets on my trail, he'll findme, as sure as fate. And so I risked this interview to try to persuadeyou to use your influence against his coming."
"And I'll do that," I returned, heartily. "But I feel that I ought totell you that I doubt my power to dissuade the Schuyler sisters fromtheir determination. And, too, how did you know they thought ofgetting him?"
"Oh, I see all the papers, you know, and in one of them a reportergave a personal interview with the Schuyler people, and they hinted atgetting that man."
Vicky sighed wearily, as if her last hope was gone. I was full ofquestions I wanted to ask her, but it seemed intrusive and unkind toquiz her. And yet, one thing I felt I must say. I must ask her whatshe knew of the actual crime.
"Tell me," I blurted out, "who did kill Randolph Schuyler?"
Again I felt her tremble, and her voice quivered as she whisperedback, "It must have been some enemy of his, who got in at the window,or something like that."
My heart fell. This was the sort of thing she would say if she wereherself the guilty one. I had hoped for a more sincere, even ifdespairing, answer.
"But I must send you away," she breathed in my ear. We were standingjust inside the room, and Vicky held her hand on a chair-back forsupport. There was the faintest light from the street, enough for usto distinguish one another's forms, but no more. Vicky wore a streetgown of some sort, and a long cloak. On her head was a small hat, anda black net veil. This was tied so tightly that it interfered a littlewith her speech, I thought, though when I had looked at her face by myflashlight, the veil had not been of sufficient thickness to concealher features at all. I've often wondered why women wear thoseuncomfortable things. She kept pulling it away from her lips as shetalked.
"I want my address book," she went on, hurriedly. "I've looked allover for it, and it's gone. Did the detective take it?"
"I think he did," I replied, remembering Lowney's search.
"Can't you get it back for me?"
"Look here, child, what do you think I am? A magician?"
"No, but I thought you could manage somehow to get it," her voiceshowed the adorable petulance that distinguished Vicky Van; "and then,you could send it to me--"
"Where?" I cried, eagerly. "Where shall I address you?"
"I can't tell you that. But you can bring it here and leave it in theChinese jar, and I will get it."
"How do you come in and go out of this house without being seen?" Idemanded. "By the area door?"
"Perhaps so," and she spoke lightly. "And perhaps by a window, andmaybe by means of an aeroplane and down through the skylight."
"Not that," I said, "the skylight is fastened on the inside, and hasbeen ever since--ever since that night."
"Well, then I don't come that way. But if you'll get that book and putit in the big vase, I'll come and get it. When will it be there?"
"You're crazy to think I can get it," I returned, slowly, "but if Ican I will. Give me a few days--"
"A week, if you like. Shall we say a week from to-night?"
"Next Monday? Yes. If I can get it at all, I can have it by then. Howshall I let you know?"
"You needn't let me know, for I know now you will get it. Steal itfrom Mr. Lowney, if you can't get it otherwise."
"But if Fleming Stone is on your trail, will you come for the book?"
"I must," she spoke gravely. "I must have the book. It meanseverything to me. I _must_ have it!"
"Then you shall, if I can manage it. It is your book, it has proved ofno value as evidence, you may as well have it."
"Yes, I may as well have it. And now, Mr. Calhoun, will you go,please, or do you intend to turn me over to the police?"
"Vicky!" I cried, "how can you say such a thing? Of course I'll go, ifyou bid me. But let me wait a minute. You know you wrote to RuthSchuyler--"
"Ruth? Is that one of the old sisters?"
"No. Ruth is the widow."
"Oh, yes, I wrote to her. I didn't know her first name. I wrotebecause I thought it was she who is making the desperate search forme, and I hoped I could influence her to stop it. That's all. I haveno interest in Randolph Schuyler's widow, except as she affects myfuture, but can you do anything by working in the other direction? Imean can you dissuade Fleming Stone from coming, by asking him not to?You can bribe him perhaps--I have money--"
"Oh, I doubt if I could do anything like that. But I'll try, I'll tryevery way I can, and, if I succeed--how shall I let you know?"
"Oh, I'll know. If he takes up the matter, it will probably get intothe papers, and if I see nothing of it, I'll conclude you succeeded."
"But I--I want to see you again, Vicky--"
"Oh, no, you don't. Why, you don't know this minute but what I stabbedthat man, and--"
"You didn't, Vicky--tell me you didn't!"
"I can't tell you that. I can't tell you anything. I am the mostmiserable girl on God's earth!" and I heard tears in Vicky's voice,and a sob choked her utterance.
"Now go," she said, after a moment, "I can't stand any more. Pleasego, and do what you can for me, without getting yourself into trouble.Go, and don't look back to see how I make my exit, will you?"
"Indeed, I won't do that. Your confidences are safe with me, Vicky,and I will do all in my power to help you, in any way I can."
"Then go now," she said, and a gentle pressure of her hand on my armurged me toward the door.
I went without another word, and neither while in the street, norafter gaining my own house, did I look back for another glimpse ofVicky Van.
And yet, try as I would, maneuver as I might, I couldn't prevent thearrival of Fleming Stone.
The Schuyler sisters were determined to have the great detective, andthough Mrs. Schuyler wasn't so anxious, yet she raised not theslightest objection, and after some persuasion, Stone agreed to takethe case.
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I was present at his first call to discuss details and was immenselyinterested in my first sight of the man.
Tall, well-formed, and of a gravely courteous manner, he impressed meas the most magnetically attractive man I had ever seen. His iron-grayhair and deep-set, dark eyes gave him a dignity that I had neverbefore associated with my notions of a detective.
The Schuyler sisters were frankly delighted with him.
"I know you'll run down the murderer of my brother," Miss Rhodaexulted, while Miss Sarah began to babble volubly of what she calledclues and evidence.
Fleming Stone listened politely, now and then asking a direct questionand sometimes turning to Ruth Schuyler for further information.
As I watched him closely, it occurred to me that he really paid littleattention to what the women said, he was more engaged in scanningtheir faces and noting their attitudes. Perhaps I imagined it, but Ithought he was sizing up their characters and their sympathies, andintended looking up his clues and evidence by himself.
"The first thing to do," he declared, at last, "is to find Miss VanAllen."
This was what I had feared, and remembering my promise to Vicky Isaid, "I think that will be impossible, Mr. Stone. She wrote she wasleaving New York forever."
"But a householder like that can't go away forever," Stone said, "shemust look after her goods and chattels, and she must pay her rent--"
"No, she owns the house."
"Must pay the taxes, then. Must sell it, or rent it or do somethingwith it."
"It would seem so," I agreed. "And yet, if one is wanted for murderone would sacrifice household goods and the house itself in order toescape being caught."
"True," and Stone nodded his head. "But, still, I fancy she wouldreturn for something. Few women could leave their home like that, andnot have some valuables or some secret papers or something for whichthey must return. I venture to say Miss Van Allen has already beenback to her house, more than once, on secret errands."
Was the man a clairvoyant? How could he know that Vicky had done thisvery thing? But I realized at once, that he knew it, not fromcognizance of facts, but from his prescience of what would necessarilyfollow in such a case.
"She has her keys, of course?" he asked.
"The police have charge of the keys," I said, a little lamely.
"I know," Stone said, impatiently, "but there are doubtless more keysthan the ones they have. I should say, that Miss Van Allen took atleast the key of one door with her, however hurried her flight."
"It may be so," I conceded. "But, granting she has been back and forthon the errands you suggest, it is not likely she will keep it up."
"No, it is not. And especially if she learns I am on the case."
"How could she know that?" Ruth Schuyler asked.
"I'm sure Miss Van Allen is a most clever and ingenious young woman,"Stone replied, "and I feel sure she knows all that is going on. Shegets information from the papers, and, too, she has that dependablemaid, Julie. That woman, probably disguised, can do much in the way ofgetting information as to how matters are progressing. You see, I'vefollowed the case all the way along, and the peculiarities and uniqueconditions of it are what induced me to take it up."
"Shall we offer a reward, Mr. Stone, for the discovery of the hidingplace of Miss Van Allen?" asked Rhoda, eagerly. "I want to use everypossible means of finding her."
"Not yet, Miss Schuyler. Let us try other plans first. But I mustenjoin utter secrecy about my connection with the matter. Not the factthat I am at work on it, but the developments or details of my work.It is a most unusual, a most peculiar case, and I must work unimpededby outside advice or interference. I may say, I've never known of acase which presented such extraordinary features, and features whichwill either greatly simplify or greatly impede my progress."
"Just what do you mean by that last remark, Mr. Stone?" asked RuthSchuyler, who had been listening intently.
"I mean that the absolutely mysterious disappearance of the youngwoman will either be of easy and simple solution, or else it willprove an insoluble mystery. There will be no half-way work about it.If I can't learn the truth in a short time, I fear I never can."
"How strange," said I. "Do you often feel thus about the beginning ofa case?"
"Very rarely, almost never. And never have I felt it so strongly as inthis instance. To trace that girl is not a matter of long and patientsearch, it's rather a question of a bit of luck or a slight slip onher part, or--well--of some coincidence or chance discovery that willclear things at one flash."
"Then you're depending on luck?" exclaimed Rhoda, in a disappointedtone.
"Oh, not that," and Stone smiled. "At least, I'm not dependingentirely on that. If luck comes my way, so much the better. And now,please let me see the notes Miss Van Allen has written."
None was available, however, except the one to Ruth Schuyler. For theone to Randolph Schuyler was in Lowney's possession, and the one I hadhad from Vicky, and which was even then in my pocket, I had nointention of showing.
It was not necessary, however, for Fleming Stone said one was enoughto gather all that he could learn from her chirography.
He studied it attentively, but only for a moment. Then he said, "Acharacteristic penmanship, but to me it only shows forcefulness,ingenuity and good nature. However, I'm not an expert, I only get ageneral impression, and the traits I've mentioned are undoubtedly tobe found in the lady's nature. Are they not?" and he turned to me, asto one who knew.
"They are," I replied, "so far as I know Miss Van Allen. But myacquaintance with her is limited, and I can only agree superficially."
Stone eyed me closely, and I began to feel a little uncomfortableunder his gaze. Clearly, I'd have to tell the truth, or incur hissuspicion. Nor did I wish to prevaricate. I felt friendly toward poorlittle Vicky, and yet, I had no mind to run counter to the interest ofRuth Schuyler. The two sisters I didn't worry about, and indeed, theycould look out for themselves. But Ruth Schuyler was in a position todemand justice, and if that justice accused Vicky Van, I must behonest and fair to both in my testimony.
Fleming Stone proceeded to question the women, more definitely andconcisely now, and by virtue of his marvellous efficiency, he soshaped his inquiries, that he learned details with accuracy andrapidity.
It would never have occurred to me to ask the questions that he put,but as he went on, I saw their pertinence and value.
With Ruth's permission he called several of the servants and askedthem a few things. Nothing of moment transpired, to my mind, but Stonewas interested in a full account of where each servant was and what hewas doing on the night of the murder. Each gave a straightforward andsatisfactory account, and I realized that Stone was only getting asense of the household atmosphere, and its relations to Mr. Schuylerhimself.
Tibbetts, the middle-aged maid of Ruth Schuyler, told of the shock toher mistress when the news was brought.
"Mrs. Schuyler had retired," said Tibbetts, "at about ten o'clock, Mr.Schuyler was out, and was not expected home until late. I attendedher, and after she was in bed, I went to bed myself."
"I'm told you do not live here," commented Stone, though in adisinterested way, and at the same time making notes of some othermatters in his notebook.
"I have a room around on Third Avenue," replied Tibbetts. "I like alittle home of my own, and when Mrs. Schuyler permits me, I go 'roundthere to sleep, and sometimes I go in the daylight hours. But on thatnight I happened to be staying here."
"Tibbetts is rather a privileged character," interposed Ruth. "She hasbeen with me for many years, and as she likes a little place of herown, I adopted the plan of which she has told you."
"But that night you were here?" said Stone, to the maid.
"Yes, sir. I slept in Mrs. Schuyler's dressing room, as I always dowhen I'm here. Then when Jepson told me the--the awful news, I awokeMrs. Schuyler and told her."
"Yes," said Stone. "I read all about that in the inquest report."