CHAPTER XV
FIBSY
Next morning as I started for my office, I found myself combating astrong impulse to call in at Ruth Schuyler's. I had no errand there,and I knew that if she required my services she would summon me. Itwas no longer incumbent on me to try to unravel the murder mystery.Fleming Stone had that matter in charge, and his master-mind needed noassistance from me.
And yet, I wanted to stop at the Fifth Avenue house, if only for amoment, to reassure myself of Ruth's well-being. Though above me insocial rank, the little widow seemed to me a lonely and patheticwoman, and I knew she had begun to depend on me for advice andsympathy. Of course, she could turn to Fleming Stone, but, in a way,he was adviser of the Schuyler sisters, and I knew Ruth hesitated tointrude on his time.
I was still uncertain whether to call or not, and as I walked alongthe few feet between my own house and the Avenue, I crossed the streetas I reached Vicky Van's house, and naturally looked at it as Ipassed.
And after I had passed the flight of brownstone steps, and was goingalong by the iron fence, I turned to look at the area door. This wasmy performance every morning, and always without thought of seeinganything of importance.
But this time the area door stood half-way open, and looking out was aboy, a red-headed chap, with a freckled face and bright, wise eyes.
I turned quickly and went in at the area gate.
"Who are you?" I demanded, "and what are you doing here?"
"I'm Fibsy," he said, as if that settled it.
"Fibsy who?" I asked, but I dropped my indignant tone, for the ladseemed to be composedly sure of his rights there.
"Aw, jest Fibsy. That's me name, because, if you want to know, becauseI'm a natural born liar and I fib for a living."
He was impudent without being offensive; his wide smile wasgood-natured and the twinkle in his eye a friendly one.
"I got yer number," he said, after a comprehensive survey of myperson, "you're C. Calhoun. Ain't you?"
"I sure am," I agreed, meeting his taste for the vernacular, "and nowfor your real name."
"Terence McGuire," he smiled, and with a quick gesture he snatched offhis cap. "C'mon in, if you like. I'm F. Stone's right-hand man."
"What!" I cried, in amazement.
"Yep, that's what. I'm--well, I like to call myself his caddy. Ifollow him round, and hold his clues for him, till he wants one, thenI hand it out. See?"
"Not entirely. But I gather you're in Mr. Stone's employ."
"You bet I am! And I'm on me job twenty-four hours a day."
"And what is your job just now?"
"Well, since eight A.M. I've been holdin' up this door, waitin' foryer honor to pass by. An' I got you, didn't I?"
"Yes, I'm here." I stepped inside and the boy closed the door. We wentinto the front basement room, where there was a lighted gas stove.
"I camp here, 'count o' the heats. There's no use gettin' up the steamfer the few casual callers that drops in at present. Now, Mr. Calhoun,I don't want to be stuffy nor nuthin', but Mr. Stone said I might askyou some few things, if I liked an' you can answer or not, as youlike. This ain't no orficial investigation, but I s'pose you're asintrusted as anybody in findin' this here Victoria Van Allen?"
"I'm interested in finding the murderer of Mr. Schuyler," I replied.
"An' maybe they ain't one an' the same. That's so." He spokethoughtfully and scanned my face with a quizzical glance. "But, ofcourse, Mr. Stone'll find out. Now, Mr. Calhoun, if you don't mind,will you give me a line on that maid person, that Julia?"
"Julie, she is called."
"All right, Julie goes. Is she a young thing?"
"No; just this side of middle-aged. Probably thirty-five or so."
"Good looker?"
"Why, about average. Brown hair, brownish eyes--really, I nevernoticed her closely enough to think about her appearance. She is, I'msure, a good servant and devoted to Miss Van Allen."
"But don't you know anything special? Anything that would pick her outfrom a lot of other good servants?"
"In appearance, you mean?"
"Yes."
"I can't think of anything. Let me see. She wears glasses--"
"What sort?"
"I don't know. Just ordinary glasses, I guess."
"Spectacles or nose-riders?"
"I'm not sure. Spectacles, I think. And she has a great manygold-filled teeth."
"Front ones?"
"Yes, that is, they're very noticeable when she speaks to you."
"Well, that's sumpum. Is she quick and spry-like, or poky?"
I smiled at the boy's eagerness. "She's rather alert," I said, "but,of course, quiet and respectful. I never looked at her with anypersonal interest, so I can only give you my general impressions."
"You see, it's this way," and the boy looked very serious, "whereverMiss Van Allen is, that Julie's there, too. And when Miss Van Allenwants errands done, of course, she sends Julie. And, of course, saidJulie is disguised. I dope out all this has to be so. For Miss VanAllen has mailed letters and--oh, well, of course she could mailletters in lots of ways, but sumpum tells me, that she depends on MissJulie as an errand girl. So, I want to find out the look of the Julieperson, and see if I can't track her down, and so get at Miss VanAllen. Vicky Van, I believe her friends call her."
"They do," said I, looking sternly at the boy, "and I'll say righthere, that I'm one of her friends, and I won't stand for anyimpertinence or any remarks of any sort about that lady. If she issuspected of this crime, let the law take its course, but until thereis some direct evidence, don't you dare to connect her name with it."
"I'm only obeying Mr. Stone's orders. And, take it from me, Mr.Calhoun, I ain't so fresh as to make remarks about a lady. I'm aprevaricator of the truth, but only when it's abserlutely necessary.And on the other hand, I'm a born protector of women. Why, I'd be onlytoo tickled to find a gentleman suspect. Or, at least, to clear MissVan Allen from all s'picion."
"Why do you feel such a kindly interest in the lady?"
"This house, for one reason. You see, I've been all over it, at Mr.Stone's orders, and I ree'lize what a nice lady she is. I don't haveto see her, to understand her tastes and her 'complishments. Why, jestthe books on her centre tables and the records for her phonographspell her out for me, in words of one syllable. And, though I'mhunting for her, it isn't with a solid hunch that's she's theknife-sticker. Not by no means. But find her I've gotto! Because F.Stone says for me to."
I looked at the boy more curiously. He was a strange admixture ofstreet boy and sleuth. His quick, darting eyes were never still, butwarily alert to catch the meaning of any sound or motion on my part. Ifelt as if he read me through, and would not have been surprised tohave him tell me he knew of my recent communications with Vicky. But Ionly said, "You are, then, Mr. Stone's right-hand man?"
"I put it that way, yes. But really, I'm his apprentice, and I'mlearning his trade. I study his methods, and I add some gumption of myown, and if I can help him, I'm glad and happy. And anyway, I'mlearning."
"And this talk about your lying? Is that straight goods?"
"If it is, how can you believe what I tell you?" he asked,whimsically. "But, I used to be a fierce liar. Then, gettin' in withF. Stone, made me see it's wrong to lie--usuerly, that is. So I don't,now--leastways, not much. Only when it's jest the only thing to do tosave game."
"How does Mr. Stone know when you're telling the truth, then?"
"Good land, I don't lie to him! I wouldn't, and if I did, it wouldn'tbe any use. He'd see through me, quicker'n scat! But, honest, Iwouldn't. You see, he's my idol, yes sir, my idol, that's what thatman is! Well, Mr. Calhoun, as you've told me all you can pry loosefrom your stock of infermation, you an' me may as well make ouradooses."
"How do you know I haven't revealed all I know of the case?"
"Oh, I read from your mobile counternance that you're keepin' sumpumback, but it don't matter. F. Stone'll nail it, when he gets good an'ready. What I wanted from you w
as mostly the speakin' likeness of theJulie dame. An' I guess I got it. Oh, say, one other thing. Who amongMiss Van Allen's friends is an artist?"
"Miss Gale is one. Miss Ariadne Gale."
"Thank you, sir. And will you gimme her address?"
I did so, and then I went away, thinking Fleming Stone a queer sort ofdetective to have for assistant such an illiterate, uncultured boy asFibsy. The name was enough to condemn him! But as I thought thelittle chap over, I realized that his talk had been clear-headed andto the point, besides showing sagacity and perspicacity.
It was growing late, but after this interview I felt I must see Ruthfor a few minutes, so called at the Schuyler house.
She greeted me cordially and seemed glad to see me. Winnie was stillacting as secretary for her, but the rush of notes of condolence wasover, and as Ruth was not, of course, giving or accepting socialinvitations, there was not so much work for Win as at first. But thetwo had become fast friends, and Winnie told me how they sat togetherchatting often for pleasant half hours at a time.
I told Ruth about the strange boy at Vicky Van's house.
"Yes," she said, "I've heard about him. Mr. Stone picked him upsomewhere and he uses him as a sort of outside scout. He has allconfidence in him, though I believe the little chap rejoices in thename of Fibber."
"Fibsy," I corrected. "He is certainly a bright youth. And he plans tohunt down Miss Van Allen by means of her maid, Julie."
"Are they together?"
"We only suppose so. It seems probable, that Miss Van Allen would wantthe help, if not the protection of her servant. Julie is a mostcapable woman, and devoted to her mistress."
"I've heard so. I have a kind, thoughtful woman, too, and I shouldmiss her terribly were I without her."
"Oh, but your Tibbetts is a servant, and nothing more. This Julie wasa real friend to Miss Van Allen, and looked after her in every way.Housekeeper, maid, nurse, and general bodyguard."
"Yes, Miss Van Allen must have needed such a person, since, as I amtold, she lived alone. My sisters-in-law are quite in love with theVan Allen house. Both they and Winnie have been singing its praisesthis morning. It seems your Vicky Van is a lady of most refinedtastes."
"She certainly is. I can't help thinking if you and she had known eachother, in favorable circumstances, you would have been friends."
"It may be. I have never felt sure that she is the guilty one, but Ihave changed my mind about not wanting her to be found. I do want thatshe should be. Mr. Schuyler's sisters have shown me that to hesitateat or neglect any means of hunting her out would be wrong. And so, Iam glad we have Mr. Stone and I hope he will succeed in his search."
"What changed your mind, especially?"
"I realized that it would be disloyalty to my husband's memory to lethis possible slayer go free. The girl must be found, and then if shecan be freed of suspicion, very well, but the case must beinvestigated fully."
"I dare say you are right. Mr. Schuyler was a man of importance andinfluence, and aside from that, every deed of blood calls for revenge.I honor you for deciding as you have."
"It is justice that moves me, more than my personal inclination," Ruthwent on. "I will not deny, Mr. Calhoun, that in some ways, myhusband's death has freed me from certain restrictions that hamperedand galled me. I shouldn't mention this to you, but I know the sistershave told you that I have, in many ways, gone counter to Mr.Schuyler's wishes, since I have been my own mistress. It is true. Heand I disagreed greatly on matters of the household and matters of mypersonal comfort and convenience. Now that I can do so, I am arrangingmy life differently. It is natural that I should do this, but theSchuyler ladies think that I have begun indecently soon. I say this,not by way of apology, but because I want you to understand."
Ruth looked very sweet and wistful, as she seemed to make a bid for mysympathy. I was impressed anew by the soft pallor of her face and thesweet purity of her gray eyes. I contrasted her with Vicky Van. One,the embodiment of life and gayety, the other a gentle, dovelikepersonality, which, however, hinted sometimes at hidden fires. Ibelieved that Ruth Schuyler had been so repressed, so dominated by herbrute of a husband, that her nature had never expanded to its ownpossibilities.
And, like a blinding flash of lightning, the knowledge came to me thatI loved her! It was no uncertain conviction. The fact sprangfull-armed, to my brain, and my heart swelled with the bliss of it.
I scarcely dared look at her. I couldn't tell her--yet. I had noreason to think she cared for me, other than as the merestacquaintance, yet, then and there, I vowed to myself that she shouldcare.
I thought of Vicky Van--poor little Vicky. She had interested me--didinterest me, but in only a friendly way. Indeed, my interest in herwas prompted by sympathy for her luckless position and the trust shehad reposed in me, I would hold her trust sacred. I would never playfalse to Vicky Van. But henceforth and forever my heart and soulbelonged to my liege lady, my angel-faced Ruth.
"What is the matter, Mr. Calhoun?" I heard her saying, and I looked upto see her smiling almost gayly at me. "Your thoughts seem to be athousand miles away!"
"Oh, not so far as that," I protested. Somehow, I felt buoyantlyhappy. I had no wish to tell her of my love, at present I was quitecontent to worship her in secret, and I exulted in a sort ofclairvoyant knowledge that I should yet win her. I smiled into herdear eyes, as I continued: "They were really round the corner in VickyVan's house."
To my delight she pouted a little. "Let's talk of something else," shesaid. "I've no doubt Miss Van Allen is charming, and her home aperfect gem, but I own up I'm not anxious to discuss her all the timeand with every one."
"You shall be exempt from it with me," I promised. "Henceforth hername is taboo between us, and you shall choose our subjects yourself."
"Then let's talk about me. Now, you know, Mr. Calhoun, I never see Mr.Bradbury, so you must be my legal adviser in all my quandaries.First, and this is a serious matter, I don't want to continue to livewith the Schuyler ladies. We are diametrically opposed on all mattersof opinion, and disagree on many matters of fact." Ruth smiled, and Imarveled afresh at the way her face lighted up when she indulged inthat little smile of hers. "Nor," she went on, "do they want to livewith me. So, it ought to be an easy matter to please us all. As to thehouse and furnishings, they are all mine, but if the sisters prefer tolive here, and let me go elsewhere, I am willing to give them thehouse and its contents."
"I know you don't care for this type of residence," I said, "indeed,Miss Schuyler said yesterday, as we looked over Vicky Van's house,that it was just the sort of thing you liked."
"Oh, I can't think I would like her house! I supposed it was a plainlittle affair. Harmonious and pretty, Winnie says, but she didn't giveme the impression it was elaborate."
"No, it isn't. And it wouldn't be as grand as your home ought to be.But mention of the girl is not allowed, I believe--"
She smiled again, and resumed: "Well, I want you to sound the Schuylersisters, and find out their wishes. When I speak to them, they onlysay for me to wait until after the mystery is solved and all thishorrid publicity and notoriety at an end. But I want to go away fromthem now. I want Mr. Stone to do his work, and I hope he will findthat girl and all that, but I can't stand it to live in thisatmosphere of detectives and reporters and policemen any longer than Imust. Would it do for me to go to some quiet hotel for a while? Icould take Tibbetts, and just be quietly by myself, while theSchuylers continue to live in this house."
I thought it over. I understood perfectly how she hated to bequestioned continually as to her life with her late husband, for I wasbeginning to realize that that life had been a continuous tragedy.Nothing much definite, but many sidelights and stray hints had shownme how he had treated her, and how patiently she had borne it. And,now he was gone, and I, for one, didn't blame her that she wanted toget away from the scenes of her slavery to him. For it had been that.He had enforced his ideas and opinions upon her, until she had beenallowed to do nothing and to have n
othing as she wished.
And now, she desired only peace and quietness somewhere, anywhere,away from the two who represented Randolph Schuyler's tyranny andcarping criticism without his right to obtrude them on her.
"I will speak to them," I said, "and I'm sure we can arrange some modeof life for you which will give you rest and freedom of judgment."
"Oh, if you only can!" she murmured, as she held out a friendly hand.