CHAPTER V
THE SCHUYLER HOUSEHOLD
As for me, I began to collect my senses after the shock of learningthe true identity of the dead man. Though I had never met him,Randolph Schuyler was a client and friend of my partner, CharlesBradbury, and I suddenly felt a sort of personal responsibility ofaction.
For one thing, I disliked the idea of Mr. Schuyler's wife and familyreceiving the first tidings of the tragedy from the police. It seemedto me a friend ought to break the news, if possible.
I said as much to Coroner Fenn, and he agreed.
"That's so," he said. "It'll be an awful errand. In the middle of thenight, too. If you're acquainted, suppose you go there with the boys,Mr. Calhoun."
"I'm not personally acquainted, but Mr. Schuyler is my partner'sclient, though there's been little business of his with our firm oflate. But, as a matter of humanity, I'll go, if you say so, and be ofany help I can."
"Go, by all means. Probably they'll be glad of your advice andassistance in many ways."
I dreaded the errand, yet I thought if the police had had to go andtell Winnie and Aunt Lucy any such awful news, how glad they'd be tohave somebody present of their own world, even of their ownneighborhood. So I went.
As we had been told, the Schuyler house was only a few doors below theAvenue corner. Even as Mason rang the bell, I was thinking how strangethat a man should go to a house where he desired to conceal his ownname, when it was so near his own dwelling.
And yet, I knew, too, that the houses on Fifth Avenue are as farremoved from houses just off the Avenue, as if they were in adifferent town.
Mason's ring was answered by a keen-eyed man of imperturbablecountenance.
"What's wanted?" he said, gazing calmly at the policemen.
"Where is Mr. Schuyler?" asked the inspector, in a matter-of-fact way.
"He's out," said the man, respectfully enough, but of no mind to beloquacious.
"Where?"
"I don't know. He went to his club after dinner, and has not yetreturned."
"Are you his valet?"
"Yes, I wait up for him. He comes in with his key. I've no idea whenhe will return."
"Is his wife at home?"
"Yes, Mrs. Schuyler is at home." Clearly, this man was answeringquestions only because he recognized the authority that asked them.But he volunteered no information.
"Who else is in the family? Children?"
"No, Mr. Schuyler has no children. His two sisters are here, and Mrs.Schuyler. That is all."
"They are all in bed?"
"Yes, sir. Has anything happened to Mr. Schuyler?"
"Yes, there has. Mr. Schuyler is dead."
"Dead!" The imperturbable calm gave way, and the valet becamenervously excited. "What do you mean? Where is he? Shall I go to him?"
"We will come in," said Lowney, for until now, we had stood outside."Then we will tell you. Are any of the other servants about?"
"No, sir, they are all in bed."
"Then--what is your name?"
"Cooper, sir."
"Then, Cooper, call the butler, or whoever is in general charge.And--summon Mrs. Schuyler."
"I'll call Jepson, he's the butler, sir. And I'll call Mrs. Schuyler'smaid, Tibbetts, if she's in. And the maid, Hester, who waits on theMisses Schuyler. Shall I?"
"Yes, get things started. Get Jepson as soon as you can."
"This is an awful affair," said Mason, as Cooper went off. We were inthe hall, a great apartment more like a room, save that a broadstaircase curved up at one side. The furnishings were magnificent, butin a taste heavily ornate and a little old-fashioned. There werecarved and upholstered benches, but none of us cared to sit. Thetension was too great.
"Keep your eyes open, Lowney," he went on. "There's lots to be pickedup from servants, before they're really on their guard. Get all youcan about Mr. Schuyler's evening habits from the man, Cooper. But goeasy with the ladies. It's hard enough for them at best."
The valet reappeared with Jepson. This butler was of the acceptedtype, portly and important, but the staggering news Cooper hadevidently told him, had made him a man among men.
"What's this?" he said, gravely. "The master dead? Apoplexy?"
"No, Jepson. Mr. Schuyler was killed by some one. We don't know whodid it."
"Killed! Murdered! My God!" The butler spoke in a strong, low voicewith no hint of dramatic effect. "How will Mrs. Schuyler bear it?"
"How shall we tell her, Jepson?" Mason showed a consultant air, forthe butler was so evidently a man of judgment and sense.
"We must waken her maid, and let her rouse Mrs. Schuyler. Then theother ladies, Mr. Schuyler's sisters, we must _call_ them."
"Yes, Jepson, do all those things, as quickly as you can."
But the wait seemed interminable.
At last the butler came back, and asked us up to the library, thefront room on the floor above. Here a footman was lighting a fire onthe hearth, for the house had the chill of the small hours.
First came the two sisters. These ladies, though not elderly, weremiddle-aged, and perhaps, a few years older than their brother. Theywere austere and prim, of aristocratic features and patrician air.
But they were almost hysterical in their excitement. A distressedmaid hovered behind them with sal volatile. The ladies were fullyattired, but caps on their heads and woolly wraps flung round thembore witness to hasty dressing.
"What is it?" cried Miss Rhoda, the younger of the two. "What hashappened to Randolph?"
I introduced myself to them. I told them, as gently as I could, thebare facts, deeming it wise to make no prevarication.
So raptly did they listen and so earnestly did I try to omit horribledetails, and yet tell the truth, that I did not hear Mrs. Schuylerenter the room. But she did come in, and heard also, the story as Itold it.
"Can it not be," I heard a soft voice behind me say, "can it not yetbe there is some mistake? Who says that man is my husband?"
I turned to see the white face and clenched hands of RandolphSchuyler's widow. She was holding herself together, and trying to geta gleam of hope from uncertainty.
If I had felt pity and sorrow for her before I saw her, it was doublypoignant now.
Ruth Schuyler was one of those gentle, appealing women, helplesslyfeminine in emergency. Her frightened, grief-stricken eyes looked outof a small, pale face, and her bloodless lips quivered as she caughtthem between her teeth in an effort to preserve her self-control.
"I am Chester Calhoun," I said, and she bowed in acknowledgment. "I amjunior partner in the firm of Bradbury and Calhoun. Mr. Bradbury isone of your husband's lawyers and also a friend, so, as circumstancesbrought it about, I came here, with Inspector Mason, to tell you--totell you--"
Mrs. Schuyler sank into a seat. Still with that air of determinationto be calm, she gripped the chair arms and said, "I heard you tellMiss Schuyler that Randolph has been killed. I ask you, may it not besome one else? Why should he be at a house where people called him bya name not his own?"
She had heard, then, all I had told the older ladies. For Mrs.Schuyler was not old. She must be, I thought at once, years youngerthan her husband. Perhaps a second wife. I was glad she had heard,for it saved repeating the awful narrative.
"He has not been identified, Mrs. Schuyler," I said, "except by thepoliceman of this precinct, who declares he knows him well."
I was glad to give her this tiny loophole of possibility of mistakenidentity, and she eagerly grasped at it.
"You must make sure," she said, looking at Inspector Mason.
"I'm afraid there's no room for doubt, ma'am, but I'm about to sendthe man, the valet, over to see him. Do you wish any one else togo--from the house?"
Mrs. Schuyler shuddered. "Don't ask me to go," she said, piteously."For I can't think it is really Mr. Schuyler--and if it should be--"
"Oh, no ma'am, you needn't go. None of the family, I should say."Mason looked at the elder ladies.
"No, no," cried Miss Sarah
, "we couldn't think of it! But let Jepsongo. He is a most reliable man."
"Yes," said Mrs. Schuyler, "send Cooper and Jepson both. Oh, goquickly--I cannot bear this suspense!" She turned to me, as the twomen who had been hovering in the doorway, came in to take Mason'sorders. "I thank you, Mr. Calhoun. It was truly kind of you to come.Tibbetts, get me a wrap, please."
This was Mrs. Schuyler's own maid, who went on the errand at once.More servants had gathered; one or two footmen, a silly Frenchparlor-maid or waitress, and from downstairs I heard the hushed voicesof others.
Tibbetts returned, and laid a fleecy white shawl about her mistress'shoulders. Mrs. Schuyler wore a house dress of dull blue. Her hair ofan ash-blonde hue, was coiled on top of her head; and to my surprise,when I noticed it, she wore a string of large pearls round her throat,and on her hands were two rings, each set with an enormous pearl.
I must have been awkward enough to glance at the pearls, for Mrs.Schuyler remarked, "I dressed so hastily, I kept on my pearls. I wearthem at night sometimes, to preserve their luster."
Then she apparently forgot them, for without self-consciousness sheturned to the detective and began asking questions. Nervously sheinquired concerning minutest details, and I surmised that side by sidewith her grief at the tragedy was a very human and feminine dismay atthe thought of her husband, stabbed to death in another woman's house!
"Who is Miss Van Allen?" she asked over and over again, unsatisfiedwith the scant information Lowney could give.
"And she lives near here? Just down the side street? Who _is_ she?"
"I don't think she is anyone you ever heard of," I said to her. "Sheis a pleasant young woman, and so far as I know, all that is correctand proper."
"Then why would she have Randolph Schuyler visiting her?" flashed theretort. "Is that correct and proper?"
"It may be so," I said, for I felt a sort of loyalty to Vicky Van."You see, she was not acquainted with Mr. Schuyler until thisevening."
"Why did he go there, then?"
"Steele brought him--Norman Steele."
"I don't know any Mr. Steele."
I began to think that Randolph Schuyler had possessed manyacquaintances of whom his wife knew nothing, and I concluded to seeBradbury before I revealed any more of Schuyler's affairs.
And then, Lowney began adroitly to put questions instead of answeringthem.
He inquired concerning Mr. Schuyler's habits and pursuits, hisrecreations and his social life.
All three of the women gave responses to these queries, and I learnedmany things.
First, that Randolph Schuyler was one manner of man at home andanother abroad. The household, it was plain to be seen, was one ofmost conservative customs and rigidly straightbacked in itsconventions.
Mrs. Schuyler was not a second wife. She had been married about sevenyears, and had lived the last five of them in the house we were nowin. She was much younger than her husband, and he had, I could see,kept her from all knowledge of or participation in his Bohemiantastes. They were the sort of people who have a box at the opera andare patrons of the best and most exclusive functions of the highestsociety. Mrs. Schuyler, after the first shock, recovered her poise,and though now and then a tremor shook her slight frame, she boreherself with dignity and calm.
The two maiden ladies also grew quieter, but we all nervously awaitedthe return of the butler.
At last he came.
"It's the master, Madame," he said, simply, to his mistress as heentered the room. "He is dead."
The deferential gravity of his tone impressed me anew with the man'sworth, and I felt that the stricken wife had a tower of strength inthe faithful servitor.
"I left Cooper there, Madame," he went on. "They--they will not bringMr. Schuyler home tonight. In the morning, perhaps. And now, Madame,will you not go to rest? I will be at the service of these gentlemen."
It seemed cruel to torture them further that night, and the threeladies were dismissed by Lowney, and, attended by their maids, theyleft us.
"Now, Jepson," Lowney began, "tell us all you know about Mr.Schuyler's doings. I daresay you know as much as the valet does. WasMr. Schuyler as a man of the world, different from his life in thishouse?"
Jepson looked perturbed. "That's not for me to say, sir."
"Oh, yes, it is, my man. The law asks you, and it is for you to tellall you know."
"Well, then," and the butler weighed his words, "my master was alwaysmost strict of habit in his home. The ladies are very reserved, andabide by rules and standards, that are, if I may say so, out of dateto-day. But, though Mr. Schuyler was by no means a gay man or a memberof any fast set, yet I have reason to think, sir, that at times hemight go to places where he would not take Mrs. Schuyler, and where hewould not wish Mrs. Schuyler to know he had been himself."
"That's enough," said Lowney. "I've got his number. Now, Jepson, hadyour master any enemies, that you know of?"
"Not that I know of. But I know nothing of Mr. Schuyler's affairs. Isee him go out of an evening, and I may notice that he comes in verylate, but as to his friends or enemies, I know nothing at all. I amnot one to pry, sir, and my master has always trusted me. I haveendeavored not to betray that trust."
This might have sounded pharisaical in a man of less sincerity ofspeech. But Jepson's clear, straightforward eyes forbade any doubt ofhis honesty and truth.
Again I was glad that Mrs. Schuyler had this staunch helper at herside, for I foresaw troublous times in store for her.
"And you never heard of this Miss Van Allen? Never was in her housebefore?"
"Never, sir. I know nothing of the houses on the side blocks." Iwinced at this. "Of course, I know the people who come to this house,but there is among them no Miss Van Allen."
"Rather not!" I thought to myself. And then I sighed at the memory ofVicky Van. Had she killed this millionaire? And if so, why?
I was sure Vicky had never met Randolph Schuyler before that evening.I had seen their meeting, and it was too surely the glance of strangerto stranger that had passed between them, to make a previousacquaintance possible. Vicky had been charming to him, as she alwayswas to every one, but she showed no special interest, and if she didreally kill him, it was some unguessable motive that prompted thedeed.
I thought it over. Schuyler, at the club, dined and wined, had perhapsheard Norman Steele extol the charms of Vicky Van. Interested, he hadasked to be taken to Vicky's house, but, as it was so near his own, asense of precaution led him to adopt another name.
Then the inexplicable sequel!
And the mysterious disappearance of Vicky herself.
Though, of course, the girl would return. As Mrs. Reeves had said,doubtless she had witnessed the crime, and, scared out of her wits,had run away. Her return would clear up the matter.
Then the waiter's story?
Well, there was much to be done. And, as I suddenly bethought me, itwas time I, myself went home!
As I passed Vicky Van's house, on my way home, I saw lights prettymuch all over it, and was strongly tempted to go in. But common sensetold me I needed rest, and not only did I have many matters to attendto on the morrow, but I had to tell the story to Aunt Lucy and Winnie!
That, of itself, would require some thought and tactful management,for I was not willing to have them condemn Vicky Van entirely, andyet, I could think of no argument to put forth for the girl'sinnocence.
Time alone must tell.