CHAPTER XVII
THE GOLD-FRINGED GOWN
After that night Fleming Stone became more desperately in earnest inhis search for Vicky. It seemed as if the sight of her, therealization that she was a real woman and not a myth, had whetted hiseagerness to discover her hiding place and bring her to book.
He established himself in her house, and both he and Fibsy practicallylived there, going out for their meals or picnicking in the basementroom. This room became his headquarters, and a plain clothes man wason duty whenever Stone and Fibsy were both absent.
"Though I don't think she'll ever come back again," Stone declared,gloomily. "She was desperately anxious for that address book, and soshe got it, through my stupidity. I might have known she'd make a dashfor the street door. I should have had that exit guarded. But I'veseen her, and I'll get her yet! At any rate she hasn't left thecountry, or hadn't last night, whatever she may do to-day."
It was the day after Vicky had given us the slip. It wasmidafternoon, and I had gone to see Stone, on my return from myoffice. I was sadly neglecting my own business nowadays, but Mr.Bradbury looked after it, and he sanctioned my devotion to theSchuyler cause.
"Randolph Schuyler was an important citizen," he said, "and hismurderer must be apprehended if possible. Do all you can, Calhoun, forhumanity's sake and the law's. Take all the time you want to, I'll seeto your important business."
So, though I went downtown every morning, I came back at noon or soonafter and plunged afresh into the work of finding Vicky Van.
There was little I could do, but Stone consulted and questioned mecontinually as to Vicky's habits or pursuits, and I told him franklyall I knew.
Also I managed to make business matters loom up so importantly as tonecessitate frequent calls on Ruth Schuyler, and I spent most of myafternoon hours in the Fifth Avenue house.
And Ruth was most kind to me. I couldn't say she showed affection oreven especial interest, but she turned to me as a confidant and we hadmany long, pleasant conversations when the subject of the mystery wasnot touched upon.
Though she never said a word against Randolph Schuyler, I couldn'thelp learning that, aside from the horror of it, his death was to hera blessed relief. He had not been a good man, nor had he been a goodhusband. On the contrary, he had blighted Ruth's whole life bythwarting her every innocent desire for gayety or pleasure.
For instance, she spoke of her great enjoyment of light opera or farcecomedy, but as Mr. Schuyler didn't care for such entertainment he hadnever allowed her to go. He had a box at the Grand Opera, and Ruthloved to go, but she liked lighter music also.
This was not told complainingly, but transpired in the course of aconversation at which Fibsy chanced to be present.
"Gee!" he said, looking at Ruth commiseratingly, "ain't you neverheard 'The Jitney Girl' or 'The Prince of Peoria'?"
Ruth shook her head, smiling at the boy's amazement. There was asubtle sympathy between these two that surprised me, for Ruth Schuylerwas fastidious in her choice of friends. But he amused her, and he wasnever really impertinent--merely naive and unconventional.
Well, on the day I speak of, Stone and I sat in the basement roomawaiting Fibsy's return. He was out after certain information and wehoped much from it.
"I gotta bunch o' dope," he announced, as he suddenly appeared beforeus. "Dunno 's it'll pan out much, but listen 'n' I'll spill a earful."
I had learned that Fibsy, or Terence, as we ought to call him, wastrying to discard his street slang, and was succeeding fairly well,save in moments of great excitement or importance. And so, I hopedfrom his slangy beginning, that he had found some fresh data.
"I chased up that chore boy first," he related, "an' he didn't knowanything at all. Said Miss Van Allen's a lovely lady, but he 'mostnever saw her, the Julie dame did all the orderin' an' payin' s'far'she was concerned. Good pay, but irregular work. She'd be here a dayor two, an' then like's not go 'way for a week. Well, we knew thatbefore. Then, next, I tracked to his lair the furnace man. Samestory. Here to-day an' gone to-morrer, as the song says. 'Course, heain't only a stoker, he's really an odd job man--ashes, sidewalks, an'such. Well, he didn't help none--any, I mean. But," and the shock ofred hair seemed to bristle with triumph, "I loined one thing! ThatJulie has been to the sewing woman and the laundress lady and shut 'emup! Yes, sir! that's what she's done!"
"Tell it all," said Stone, briefly.
"Well, I struck the seamstress first. She wouldn't tell a thing, and Isaid, calmly, 'I know Julie paid you to keep your mouth shut, but ifyou don't tell, the law'll make you!' That scared her, and she ownedup that Julie was to see her 'bout a week ago and give her fiftydollars not to tell anything at all whatsomever about Miss Van Allen!Some girl, that Vicky Van!"
"Julie went there herself!" I cried.
"Yep. The real Julie, gold teeth and all. But I quizzed the needlepusher good and plenty, and she don't know much of evidential value."
It was always funny when Fibsy interlarded his talk with legalphrases, but he was unconscious of any incongruity and went on:
"You see, as I dope it out, she's accustomed to sit in Miss VanAllen's boodore a-sewin' an' might have overheard some gossip orsumpum like that, an' Miss Van Allen was afraid she'd scatter it, an'so she sent Julie to shut her up. I don't believe the woman knowswhere Miss Van is now."
"I must see her," said Stone.
"Yes, sir. She won't get away. She's a regular citizen, an'respectable at that. Well, then, the laundress. To her also Julie hadlikewise went. An' to her also Julie had passed the spondulicks. Now,I don't understand that so well, for laundresses don't overhear theladies talkin', but, anyway, Julie told her if she wouldn't answer aquestion to anybody, she'd give her half a century, too. And did."
"Doubtless the laundress knew something Miss Van Allen wants keptsecret."
"Doubtless, sir," said Fibsy, gravely.
"But I don't believe," mused Stone, "that it would help us any tolearn all those women know. If Miss Van Allen thought they could helpus find her, she would give them more than that for silence or getthem out of the city altogether."
"Where is Miss Van Allen, Mr. Stone?"
Fibsy asked the question casually, as one expectant of an answer.
"She's in the city, Fibs, living as somebody else."
"Yep, that's so. Over on the West side, say, among the artist lady'sstudio gang?"
"Maybe so. But she has full freedom of action and goes about as shelikes. Julie also. They come here whenever they choose, though I don'tthink they'll come while we're here. It's a queer state of things,Calhoun. What do you make of it?"
"I don't believe Vicky is disguised. Her personality is too pronouncedand so is Julie's. I think some friend is caring for them. Not AriadneGale, of that I'm sure. But it may be Mrs. Reeves. She is very fond ofVicky and is clever enough to hide the girl all this time."
"The police have searched her house--"
"I know, but Mrs. Reeves and Vicky could connive a plan that wouldhoodwink the police, I'm pretty certain."
"I'll look into that," and Stone made a note of it. "About thatcarving knife, Fibsy. Did the caterers take it away by mistake?"
"No, sir; I 'vestergated that, an' they didn't."
"That knife is an important thing, to my mind," the detective went on.
"Yes, sir," eagerly agreed Fibsy. "It may yet cut the Gorgian knot!Why, Mr. Stone, the sewing lady knew that knife. She was here tolunching a few days before the moider, an' she says she always sat atthe table in the dining room to eat, after Miss Van Allen got through.An' she says that knife was there, 'cos they had steak, an' she usedit herself. I described the fork puffeckly, an' she reckernized it atonct."
"You're a bright boy!" I exclaimed in involuntary tribute to thisclever bit of work.
"I'm 'ssociated with Mr. Stone," said Fibsy, with a quiet twinkle.
"It was clever," agreed Stone. "I'm sure, myself, that the absence ofthat small carving knife means something, but I can't fit it in
yet."
We went up to the dining-room to look again at the carving fork, stillin its place on the sideboard. I was always thrilled at a return tothis room--always reminded of the awful tableau I had seen there.
The long, slender fork lay in its place. Though it had been repeatedlyexamined and puzzled over, it had been carefully replaced.
"But I can't see," I offered, "why a carving-knife should figure inthe matter at all when the crime was committed with the littleboning-knife."
"That's why the missing carving-knife ought to be a clue," said Stone,"because its connection with the case is inexplicable. Now, where isthat knife? Fibsy, where is it?"
Fleming Stone's frequent appeals to the boy were often in ahalf-bantering tone, and yet, rather often, Terence returned anopinion or a bit of conjecture that turned Stone's cogitations in afresh direction.
"You see, sir," he said, this time, "that knife is in this house. It'sgotter be. That lady left the house in a mighty hurry but all the sameshe didn't go out a brandishin' of a carvin'-knife! Nor did she takeit along an drop it in the street or an ash can for it'd been found.So, she siccreted it summer, an' it's still in the house--unless--yes,unless she has taken it away since. You know, Mr. Stone, the Van Allenhas been in this house more times than you'd think for. Yes, sir, shehas."
"How do you know?"
"Lots o' ways. Frinst' on Sat'day, I noticed a clean squarish place inthe dust on a table in the lady's bedroom, an' it's where a book was.That book disappeared durin' Friday night. I don't remember seein' thebook, I didn't notice it, to know what book it was, but the cleanplace in the dust couldn't get there no other way. Well, all is, itshows Miss Vick comes an' goes pretty much as she likes--or did tillyou'n me camped out here."
"Then you think she left the knife here that night, and has sincereturned and taken it away?"
"I donno," Fibsy scowled in his effort to deduce the truth. "Let'slook!"
He darted from the room and up the stairs. Stone rose to follow.
"That boy is uncanny at times," he said, seriously. "I'm only tooglad to follow his intuitions, and not seldom; he's all right."
We went upstairs, and then on up to the next floor. Fibsy was in VickyVan's dressing room, staring about him. He stood in the middle of thefloor, his hands in his pockets, wheeling round on one heel.
"They say she ran upstairs 'fore she flew the coop," he murmured, notlooking at us. "That Miss Weldon said that. Well, if she did, shenatchelly came up here for a cloak an' bonnet. I'll never believe thatlevel-headed young person went out into the cold woild in her gladrags, an' no coverin'. Well, then, say, she lef' that knife here,locked up good an' plenty. Where--_where_, I say, would she siccreteit?"
He glared round the room, as if trying to wrest the secret from itsinanimate contents.
"Mr. Stone says that walls have tongues. I believe it, an' I knowthese walls are jest yellin' the truth at me, an' yet, I'm sosoul-deef I can't make out their lingo! Well, let's make a stab at it.Mr. Stone, I'll lay you that knife is in some drawer or cubbid inthis here very room."
"Maybe, Fibsy," said Stone, cheerfully. "Where shall we look first?"
"All over." And Fibsy darted to a wardrobe and began feeling among thegowns and wraps hanging there. With a touch as light as a pickpocket'she slid his lightning-like fingers through the folds of silk andtulle, and turned back with a disappointed air.
"Frisked the whole pack; nothin' doin'," he grumbled. "But don't giveup the ship."
We didn't. Having something definite to do, we did it thoroughly, andtwo men and a boy fingered every one of Vicky Van's availablebelongings in an amazingly short space of time.
"Now for this chest," said Fibsy, indicating a large low box onrollers that he pulled out from under the couch.
It was locked, but Stone picked it open, and threw back the cover. Atthe bottom of it, beneath several other gowns, we found the costumeVicky had worn the night of the murder!
"My good land!" ejaculated Fibsy, "the gold-fringed rig! Ain't itclassy!"
Stone lifted out the dress, heavy with its weight of gold beads, andheld it up to view. On the flounces were stains of blood! And from thewrinkled folds fell, with a clatter to the floor, the missingcarving-knife!
I stooped to pick up the knife.
"'Scuse me, Mr. Calhoun," cried Fibsy, grasping my hand, "don't touchit! Finger prints, you know!"
"Right, boy!" and Stone nodded, approvingly. "Pick it up, Fibsy."
"Yessir," and taking from his pocket a pair of peculiar shaped tongs,Terence carefully lifted the knife and laid it on the glass-toppeddressing table.
"Probly all smudged anyway," he muttered, squinting closely at theknife. "But there's sure some marks on it! Gee, Mr. Stone, there'ssumpum doin'!" His eyes shone and his skinny little fingers trembledwith excitement of the chase.
Stone studied the gold-fringed dress. The blood stains on theflounces, though dried and brown, were unmistakable.
"Wonderful woman!" he exclaimed. "Now, we've got this dress, and whatof it? She put it here, not caring whether we got it or not. She'sgone for good. She'll never be taken. This proves it to my mind."
"And the knife?" I asked, thrilling with interest.
"There you are again. If Miss Van Allen put that there for us todiscover, the marks on it are of no use. Perhaps some she had putthere purposely. You see, I'm inclined to grant her any degree ofcleverness from what I know of her ability so far. She is a witch.She can hoodwink anybody."
"Except F. Stone, Esquire," amended Fibsy. "You pussieve, Mr.Calhoun, the far-famed detective, is already onto her coives!"
Stone looked up to smile at the boy's speech, but he returned his gazeto the golden-trimmed gown.
"Of course," he said, "it is improbable that she took this off beforeshe left the house that night. I opine she threw a big cloak round herand rushed out to the house of some friend. Likely she found a taxicabor even commandeered some waiting private car for her flight. Youknow, we are dealing with no ordinary criminal. Now, if I am right,she brought this gown back here on some of her subsequent trips. As tothe knife, I don't know. I see no explanation as yet. Since shestabbed her victim with another knife--why in the world hide this oneup here? What say, Fibsy?"
"'Way past me. Maybe she was usin' both knives, an' the other oneturned the trick, an' when she got up here she seen she had this onestill in her grip, an' she slung it in this here chest to hide it. Iain't sure that's the c'reck answer, but it'll do temp'rar'ly. I say,Mr. Stone, I got an awful funny thing to ask you."
"It won't be the first funny thing you've asked me, Terence. What isit?"
"Well, it's pretty near eatin' time, an'--aw, pshaw, I jest can't dareto say it."
"Go ahead, old chap, I can't do more than annihilate you."
"Well, I wanna go to the Schuylerses to dinner."
"To dinner!"
"Yes, sir. An' not to the kitchen eats, neither. I wanta set up totheir gran' table with their butlerses an' feetmen, an' be a nonnerdguest. Kin I, Mr. Stone? Say, kinni?"
Fleming Stone looked at the eager, flushed face. He knew and I did,too, that there was something back of this request. But it couldn't beanything of vital importance to our mystery.
"Oh, I understand," said Stone, suddenly. "You've taken a desperatefancy to Mrs. Schuyler and you want to further the acquaintance. Butit isn't often done that way, my boy."
"Aw, now, don't kid me, Mr. Stone. Either lemme go or shut down on it,one o' the six! But it's most nessary, I do assure you."
"Maybe she won't have you. Why should those grand ladies allow a boyof your age at their dinner-table?"
"Because you ask 'em, sir." Fibsy's tone was full of a quiet dignity.
"Very well, I'll ask them," and Stone went away to the telephone.
Fibsy stood, looking raptly at the gold gown, and now and then hiseyes turned toward the knife on the dressing-table. The table wascovered with silver toilet implements, and save for its unfittingsuggestion, the knife was unnoticeabl
e among the other trinkets.
"It's all right," said Stone, returning. "Mrs. Schuyler sends acordial invitation for all three of us to dine with her."
"Much obliged, I'll be there," said Fibsy, unsmilingly.