CHAPTER VIII
THE LETTER-BOX
"It's a queer case," said Mr. Bradbury to me, when I reached theoffice that afternoon. "Of course, I know Randolph Schuyler was nosaint, but I never supposed he was deep enough in any affair to have awoman kill him. And so near his own home, too! He might have had thedecency to choose his lady acquaintances in more remote sections ofthe city."
"That isn't the queerest part to me," I returned. "What I can'tunderstand is, why that girl stabbed him. She didn't know him--"
"Now, now, Calhoun, she must have known him. She didn't know anySomers, we'll say, but she must have known Schuyler. A murder has tohave 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 fairlywell, and she wouldn't--"
"You can't say what a woman would or wouldn't do. But it's not ourbusiness to look after the criminal part of it, we've got all we canhandle, attending to the estate. And here's another thing. I wishyou'd do all that's necessary up at the house. I always got along allright with Randolph Schuyler, but I can't stand those sisters of his.His wife I have never met. But those old Schuyler women get on mynerves. So you look after them. You're more of a ladies' man than Iam, 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 sistersmyself, but Mrs. Schuyler is a young thing, ignorant of her ownrights, and those old maids boss her like fury. I'm going to see thatshe has her own way in some few things, at least. She inherits halfthe fortune, you know."
"Yes, and the sisters a quarter each. That is, after some minorbequests and charitable donations are settled. Schuyler was a goodsort--as men go."
"Then men go pretty badly! He was a brute to his wife; I've been toldhe 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 inthat family. I know those two old ladies, and they'd resent anythingin the way of criticism of their treatment of their sister-in-law.And, if Schuyler didn't treat his wife handsomely, she's rid of himnow, at any rate."
"You're a cold-blooded thing, Bradbury," I informed him, "and I amgoing to do all I can for that young widow. She'll have a lot ofunpleasant 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 thedetective work. I know your weakness for that sort of thing, and Iknow if you begin, you'll never let up."
Bradbury was right. I have a fondness for detective work--not thepolice part of it, but the inquiry into mystery, the deduction fromclues and the sifting of evidence. I had no mind to miss the inquest,and I had a burning curiosity to know what had become of Vicky Van.This was not only curiosity, either. I had a high respect and agenuine liking for that little lady, and, as Mrs. Reeves had put it, Iwas only too willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Though I couldn't feel any real doubt that she had killed Schuyler. AsBradbury said, she didn't know a Mr. Somers, but she may have knownthe millionaire Schuyler. I had never seen anything of a seamy side toVicky's character; but then, I didn't know her so very well, and theman was dead, and who else _could_ have killed him?
I went around to the caterer's on my way uptown that afternoon, andasked him as to the reliability of Luigi and the probable truth of hisstory.
"That man," Fraschini told me, "is as honest as the day. I've had himlonger than any of my other waiters, and he has never said or doneanything to make me doubt his accuracy. I believe, Mr. Calhoun, thatLuigi saw exactly what he said he saw."
"Might he not have been mistaken in the identity of the woman?"
"Not likely. I'll call him, and you can question him."
This was what I wanted, to question the waiter alone, and I welcomedthe opportunity.
"I know it was Miss Van Allen," was the quiet response of the Italianto my inquiry. "I cannot be mistaken. I had seen her many times duringthe evening. I, therefore, recognized the gown she wore, of lightyellow gauzy stuff and an over-dress of long gold bead fringes. I sawher stand above the fallen body, looking down at it with a horrifiedface. I saw stains of blood on her gown--"
"Where?" I interrupted. "What part of her gown?"
Luigi thought a moment. "On the lower flounces, as if her skirts hadbrushed against the--the victim, when she stooped over him."
"Did she herself observe these stains?"
"Yes; she looked at them, and looked frightened and then she ran tothe hall."
"And you saw no other person near?"
"None."
"And heard nobody?"
"I heard only the voices from the parlor. There was much noise oflaughter and talk there."
No amount of questioning could change or add to Luigi's story. It wasquite evident that he was telling just what he saw, and had nointerest in coloring it to make it appear different in any way. Headmired Miss Van Allen, he said she was a pleasant lady and not hardto please if her orders were faithfully carried out. He expressed nopersonal interest in the question of her guilt or innocence, he simplytold what he had seen. I didn't altogether like his stolidindifference, it seemed impossible there should be so little humanityin 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 aperfect storm of questions.
"After dinner," I begged. "Let me get a little rest and food, and thenI'll tell you all I know."
But after a few spoonfuls of soup, Winnie declared I was too nervousto eat and I might as well talk.
"Well, I will," I said. "But, look here, you two. To begin with, Iwant you to understand that I'm involved in this matter in a businessway, and I'm also interested in a personal way. And I don't want anysilly talk about it's being unfortunate or regrettable that I shouldbe. It's a business case, Aunt Lucy, as far as the settlement of Mr.Schuyler's estate is concerned, and it's a personal affair that I'macquainted with Miss Van Allen; and I propose to make more or lesseffort to find some trace of that girl, and to see if there is anypossible chance that she may not be the guilty one after all."
"Good for you, Lord Chesterton!" cried Winnie. "I always knew you werethe soul of chivalry, and now you're proving it! What are you going todo--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 thesethings as a matter of business, I can't object. But I won't haveWinnie dragged into it."
"No dragging, Aunt Lu, and nothing very desperate for Winnie to do.But, I'd be jolly glad if both of you would just glance out of thewindow occasionally and see if you see anything going on at the VanAllen house, that's all."
"Oh, I'll do that!" Winnie cried. "Nobody can see me, I'll keep behindour curtains, and I can see that house perfectly well."
"I don't mean all the time, child. But I do feel sure that Vicky Vanwill come back there, and if you glance out now and then, you mightsee her go in or out."
"But it's dark," said Aunt Lucy, who was becoming interested, in spiteof her scruples.
"I don't mean to-night, or any night. But in the daytime. She's likelyto 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 thedoorknob, and goes on. If Vicky is as clever as I think she is,she'll time that policeman, and sneak into the house between hisrounds. 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 seeingthat I was deeply into the turmoil of it all, and had graveresponsibilities, Aunt Lucy withdrew all objections and sympathizedwith me. Also, she was impressed with my important businessconnections with the Schuyler family, and was f
rankly curious aboutthat aristocratic household. I was asked over and over again as totheir mode of living, the furniture and appointments of the house, andthe attitudes of the widow and the sisters toward each other.
It was late in the evening before I remembered some important papersMr. Bradbury had given me to hand to Mrs. Schuyler, and as soon as Ithought of them I telephoned to know if I might then bring them over.
"Yes," came back Ruth Schuyler's soft voice. "I wish you would. Iwant 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 werediscussed, and Mrs. Schuyler was more composed and calm.
She looked better, too, though this was doubtless due, in part, to thefact that she wore a white house dress which was far more becomingthan black to her colorless face and light hair.
"I don't know," she said, at length, "whether what I want to sayshould be said to you or to the detective."
"Tell me first," I said, "and I may be able to advise you. In anycase, 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 Miss Van Allen traced, ifit 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 havebecome convinced that my husband must have known the young woman, andthe acquaintance was not to his credit. For some reason, I think, shemust have forbidden him the house, and that is why he went there underan assumed name. Mr. Lowney succeeded in getting Mr. Steele on thelong distance telephone--"
"Why, where is Steele?"
"In Chicago. Mr. Lowney says that he had to go there on the midnighttrain, and that is why he left the lady's house--Miss Van Allen'shouse, 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 Miss Van Allen's party and Mr. Schuylerbegged him to take him along, and introduce him as Mr. Somers. Itseems he had asked Mr. Steele before to do this, but this time he wasmore insistent. So Mr. Steele did it. Of course, Mr. Calhoun, I askedMr. Lowney minutely about all this, because I want to know just whatcircumstances led up to my husband's going to that house."
"Of course, Mrs. Schuyler, you have every right to know. And didSteele say that was Mr. Schuyler's first visit there or merely hisfirst visit as Mr. Somers?"
"Mr. Steele thought Mr. Schuyler had never been to the house before atall. But may he not have been mistaken? May not Mr. Schuyler haveknown the lady previously--oh, it is such a moil! But, in any case,Mr. Calhoun, it seems to me that further probing and searching willonly pile up opprobrium on the name of Schuyler, and--I can't standit. I am so unused to notoriety or publicity I can't face all theunpleasantness 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 personalinclinations."
"No, I suppose not. What is it, Tibbetts?"
The last question was addressed to her maid, who appeared at thedoorway. The sad-faced woman looked at her mistress with a mingled airof deference and commiseration.
"The telephone, ma'am," she said. "I said you were busily engaged, butit 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 hostess said, as she returned. "Idon't know how a report that I wanted one travelled so quickly, butI'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 capableone. Not so much experienced, as quick-witted and intelligent. You mayas well know, Mr. Calhoun, since you are to look after my affairs,that my late husband was of strictly plain habits. He was almostfrugal in his ideas of how little womankind should be indulged in anyluxuries or unnecessary comforts. This did not incommode his sistersfor they were of the same mind. But I desired certain things which hesaw fit to deny me. I make no complaint, I bear his memory no illwill, but I feel that now I may have some of these things. I am my ownmistress, 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 Imust have the privilege of ordering it as I choose."
It had come already, then. Ruth Schuyler and her Puritanicalsisters-in-law had met the issue, and Ruth had stood up for herrights. I felt that I knew the woman well enough to know she would nothave taken this stand so soon after her husband's death except thatsome discussion or disagreement had made it necessary for her toassert herself. I bowed in acquiescence, and said, "I am sure, Mrs.Schuyler, there can be no objection to your doing exactly as youplease. This house is entirely your own, half Mr. Schuyler's fortuneis yours, and you are responsible to nobody for your actions. If notintrusive, I will offer to look you up a suitable secretary. I have ayoung woman in mind, whom I think you would like."
"I am not easy to please," she said, smiling a little; "I have a verydefinite idea of what I want. Who is your friend?"
"Not a friend, exactly. An acquaintance of my sister's, who iseligible for the post, if she suits you. Shall I send her round tosee you to-morrow?"
"Yes, please. Your mention of her is enough recommendation. I want,Mr. Calhoun, to do more or less charitable work this winter. That wasanother of Mr. Schuyler's whims, to attend to all charities himself,and to object to my giving anything personally. As I shall be quietand unoccupied this winter, I plan to do some systematic work in abenevolent way. I know this sounds strange to you, that I should beplanning these things so soon. But the truth is, I do plan them,purposely, because I don't want to think about the present horror. Ineed something to keep my mind from thinking of the awful tragedy or Ishall go mad. It seemed to me not wrong to think about some work thatshould benefit others; and to do this, will give me an outlet for myenergies and be helpful to the poor and suffering."
Ruth Schuyler looked almost beautiful as her face glowed withenthusiasm on her subject. I realized how the nervous, highstrungwoman must be torn with agony at the revelations of her husband'sdefects and the uncertainty of his honor and morality, and all inaddition to the terrible experiences she was undergoing and must yetencounter.
I went home filled with a desire to help her in every way I could, andthough I went to my room at once, I could not think of sleep. I feltlike planning ways to put the police off the track or finding somemethod of making them cease their hunt for Vicky Van.
I went down to the library, and sat down for a smoke and a revery. AndI sat there until very late, after two o'clock, in fact, withoutgetting any nearer a plan than I was at the start.
It was nearly three, when I concluded that I could sleep at last. Istood by the front window a moment, looking over at Vicky Van's house,across the street, and a few doors from our own.
As I looked at the darkened dwelling, I saw the front door slowlyopen. There was no one outside, it was being opened from inside. As Iknew the body of Mr. Schuyler had been taken away, and the house hadbeen deserted by all who had been there, and that it was in custody ofthe 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 woreno hat--or those short, full skirts, that she always wore. She lookedabout cautiously, and then with swift motions she unlocked theletter-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 thestreet. Mounting her steps, I rang the doorbell hard. There was noresponse, and I kept on ringing--a veritable bombardment. Then thedoor opened a very little bit--I could see it was on a night-chain--andVicky's voice said, "Ple
ase 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.