Vicky Van Part 31

"Yes, Miss Van Allen must have needed such a person, since, as I am told, she lived alone. My sisters-in-law are quite in love with the Van Allen house. Both they and Winnie have been singing its praises this morning. It seems your Vicky Van is a lady of most refined tastes."

"She certainly is. I can't help thinking if you and she had known each other, in favorable circ.u.mstances, you would have been friends."

"It may be. I have never felt sure that she is the guilty one, but I have changed my mind about not wanting her to be found. I do want that she should be. Mr. Schuyler's sisters have shown me that to hesitate at or neglect any means of hunting her out would be wrong. And so, I am 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 let his possible slayer go free. The girl must be found, and then if she can be freed of suspicion, very well, but the case must be investigated fully."

"I dare say you are right. Mr. Schuyler was a man of importance and influence, 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," Ruth went on. "I will not deny, Mr. Calhoun, that in some ways, my husband's death has freed me from certain restrictions that hampered and galled me. I shouldn't mention this to you, but I know the sisters have 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. He and I disagreed greatly on matters of the household and matters of my personal comfort and convenience. Now that I can do so, I am arranging my life differently. It is natural that I should do this, but the Schuyler 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 my sympathy. I was impressed anew by the soft pallor of her face and the sweet purity of her gray eyes. I contrasted her with Vicky Van. One, the embodiment of life and gayety, the other a gentle, dovelike personality, which, however, hinted sometimes at hidden fires. I believed that Ruth Schuyler had been so repressed, so dominated by her brute of a husband, that her nature had never expanded to its own possibilities.

And, like a blinding flash of lightning, the knowledge came to me that I loved her! It was no uncertain conviction. The fact sprang full-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 no reason to think she cared for me, other than as the merest acquaintance, yet, then and there, I vowed to myself that she should care.

I thought of Vicky Van--poor little Vicky. She had interested me--did interest me, but in only a friendly way. Indeed, my interest in her was prompted by sympathy for her luckless position and the trust she had reposed in me, I would hold her trust sacred. I would never play false to Vicky Van. But henceforth and forever my heart and soul belonged to my liege lady, my angel-faced Ruth.

"What is the matter, Mr. Calhoun?" I heard her saying, and I looked up to see her smiling almost gayly at me. "Your thoughts seem to be a thousand miles away!"

"Oh, not so far as that," I protested. Somehow, I felt buoyantly happy. I had no wish to tell her of my love, at present I was quite content to wors.h.i.+p her in secret, and I exulted in a sort of clairvoyant knowledge that I should yet win her. I smiled into her dear eyes, as I continued: "They were really round the corner in Vicky Van's house."

To my delight she pouted a little. "Let's talk of something else," she said. "I've no doubt Miss Van Allen is charming, and her home a perfect gem, but I own up I'm not anxious to discuss her all the time and with every one."

"You shall be exempt from it with me," I promised. "Henceforth her name 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 live with the Schuyler ladies. We are diametrically opposed on all matters of opinion, and disagree on many matters of fact." Ruth smiled, and I marveled afresh at the way her face lighted up when she indulged in that little smile of hers. "Nor," she went on, "do they want to live with me. So, it ought to be an easy matter to please us all. As to the house and furnis.h.i.+ngs, they are all mine, but if the sisters prefer to live here, and let me go elsewhere, I am willing to give them the house 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 plain little affair. Harmonious and pretty, Winnie says, but she didn't give me 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 Schuyler sisters, and find out their wishes. When I speak to them, they only say for me to wait until after the mystery is solved and all this horrid publicity and notoriety at an end. But I want to go away from them now. I want Mr. Stone to do his work, and I hope he will find that girl and all that, but I can't stand it to live in this atmosphere of detectives and reporters and policemen any longer than I must. Would it do for me to go to some quiet hotel for a while? I could take Tibbetts, and just be quietly by myself, while the Schuylers continue to live in this house."

I thought it over. I understood perfectly how she hated to be questioned continually as to her life with her late husband, for I was beginning to realize that that life had been a continuous tragedy.

Nothing much definite, but many sidelights and stray hints had shown me 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 to get 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 been allowed to do nothing and to have nothing as she wished.

And now, she desired only peace and quietness somewhere, anywhere, away from the two who represented Randolph Schuyler's tyranny and carping criticism without his right to obtrude them on her.

"I will speak to them," I said, "and I'm sure we can arrange some mode of 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.

CHAPTER XVI

A FUTILE CHASE

It was Sunday afternoon, and we were in conclave in the Schuyler library. Fleming Stone was summing up his results of the past few days and, though it was evident he had done all that mortal man could do, yet he had no hint or clue as to where Vicky Van might be.

And, he held, that nothing else was of consequence compared to this knowledge. She must be found, and whether that could be done quickly, by search or by chance, or whether it would take a long time of waiting, he could not say. He felt sure, that she must disclose herself, sooner or later, but if not, and if their search continued unavailing, then he held out no hope for success.

"It's a unique case," he said, "in my experience. All depends on finding that woman. If she is innocent, herself, she knows who did it.

And, if she is the guilty one, she is clever enough to remain hidden.

It may be she is miles away, out of the country, perhaps. She has had ample time to make arrangements to go abroad, or to any distant place.

Her guilt seems to me probable, because she has literally abandoned her house and her belongings. An innocent woman would scarcely leave all those modern and valuable furnis.h.i.+ngs unless for some very strong reason. But as to finding her--a needle in a haystack presents an easy problem by contrast!"

"Doubtless she is hiding in the house of some friend," suggested Ruth, thoughtfully. "It seems to me she must have been taken in and cared for by some one who loved her, that night she disappeared."

"I think so, too," agreed Stone. "But I've been to see all her friends that I can find out about. I've called on a score of them, finding their addresses in her address book that Mr. Lowney gave me. Of course, they may have been deceiving me, but I feel safe in a.s.serting that she is not under the protection of any one I interviewed. She returned to her house last Monday night, the police believe, for the purpose of getting her mail. This shows a daring almost unbelievable!

That mail must have been of desperate importance to her. She has not been to the house since, they feel sure, and since I have been on the case she could not have entered, for I have kept it under strict surveillance. I think she will never return to it. Presumably she got the letters she was so anxious for. Her mail, that has arrived the last few days, I have not opened, but the envelopes show mostly tradesmen's cards, or are indubitably social correspondence. There seem to be no letters from lawyers or financial firms. However, if nothing develops, I shall open the letters. This case, being unprecedented, necessitates unusual proceedings."

"I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Stone," said Rhoda Schuyler, testily; "I didn't suppose you were superhuman, but I did think, with your reputation and all, you would be able to find that woman. I've heard say that n.o.body could absolutely vanish in New York City, and not be traced."

"You don't regret my so-far failure a bit more than I do, Miss Schuyler, but I feel no shame or embarra.s.sment over it. Nor am I ready to admit myself beaten. I have a theory, or, rather a conviction that there is one and only one explanation of this strange affair. I am not quite ready to expound this, but in a day or two I shall find if it is the true solution, and if so I shall soon find Miss Van Allen."

"I knew you would," and Sarah Schuyler nodded her head, in satisfaction. "I told Rhoda to give you more time and you would not disappoint us. All right, Mr. Stone, use all the time you need. But no Schuyler must remain unavenged. I want to see that woman killed--yes, killed, for her murder of my brother."

Sarah Schuyler looked like a figure of Justice herself, as, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes she declared her wrath. And it was her right. Her brother's blood called out for vengeance. But the more gentle-souled Ruth shuddered and shrank from this stern arraignment.

"Oh, Sarah," she murmured, "not killed! Don't condemn a woman to that!"

"Why not, Ruth? If a woman can kill, a woman should be killed. But she won't be," she added, bitterly. "No jury ever convicts a woman, no matter how clearly her guilt is proven."

Just then Fibsy appeared. He was a strange little figure, and showed a shy awkwardness at the grandeur of his surroundings. He bobbed a funny little curtsy to Ruth, whom he already adored, and with an embarra.s.sed nod, included the rest of us in a general greeting.

Then to Fleming Stone he said, in an eager, triumphant tone, "I got 'em!"

"Got what?" asked Ruth, smiling at him.

"Got pictures of Miss Van Allen, and Julie, too."

"What!" cried Ruth, interested at once; "let me see them."