"I want my address book," she went on, hurriedly. "I"ve looked all over for it, and it"s gone. Did the detective take it?"
"I think he did," I replied, remembering Lowney"s search.
"Can"t you get it back for me?"
"Look here, child, what do you think I am? A magician?"
"No, but I thought you could manage somehow to get it," her voice showed the adorable petulance that distinguished Vicky Van; "and then, you could send it to me--"
"Where?" I cried, eagerly. "Where shall I address you?"
"I can"t tell you that. But you can bring it here and leave it in the Chinese jar, and I will get it."
"How do you come in and go out of this house without being seen?" I demanded. "By the area door?"
"Perhaps so," and she spoke lightly. "And perhaps by a window, and maybe by means of an aeroplane and down through the skylight."
"Not that," I said, "the skylight is fastened on the inside, and has been ever since--ever since that night."
"Well, then I don"t come that way. But if you"ll get that book and put it in the big vase, I"ll come and get it. When will it be there?"
"You"re crazy to think I can get it," I returned, slowly, "but if I can I will. Give me a few days--"
"A week, if you like. Shall we say a week from to-night?"
"Next Monday? Yes. If I can get it at all, I can have it by then. How shall I let you know?"
"You needn"t let me know, for I know now you will get it. Steal it from Mr. Lowney, if you can"t get it otherwise."
"But if Fleming Stone is on your trail, will you come for the book?"
"I must," she spoke gravely. "I must have the book. It means everything to me. I _must_ have it!"
"Then you shall, if I can manage it. It is your book, it has proved of no value as evidence, you may as well have it."
"Yes, I may as well have it. And now, Mr. Calhoun, will you go, please, or do you intend to turn me over to the police?"
"Vicky!" I cried, "how can you say such a thing? Of course I"ll go, if you bid me. But let me wait a minute. You know you wrote to Ruth Schuyler--"
"Ruth? Is that one of the old sisters?"
"No. Ruth is the widow."
"Oh, yes, I wrote to her. I didn"t know her first name. I wrote because I thought it was she who is making the desperate search for me, and I hoped I could influence her to stop it. That"s all. I have no interest in Randolph Schuyler"s widow, except as she affects my future, but can you do anything by working in the other direction? I mean can you dissuade Fleming Stone from coming, by asking him not to?
You can bribe him perhaps--I have money--"
"Oh, I doubt if I could do anything like that. But I"ll try, I"ll try every way I can, and, if I succeed--how shall I let you know?"
"Oh, I"ll know. If he takes up the matter, it will probably get into the papers, and if I see nothing of it, I"ll conclude you succeeded."
"But I--I want to see you again, Vicky--"
"Oh, no, you don"t. Why, you don"t know this minute but what I stabbed that man, and--"
"You didn"t, Vicky--tell me you didn"t!"
"I can"t tell you that. I can"t tell you anything. I am the most miserable girl on G.o.d"s earth!" and I heard tears in Vicky"s voice, and a sob choked her utterance.
"Now go," she said, after a moment, "I can"t stand any more. Please go, and do what you can for me, without getting yourself into trouble.
Go, and don"t look back to see how I make my exit, will you?"
"Indeed, I won"t do that. Your confidences are safe with me, Vicky, and I will do all in my power to help you, in any way I can."
"Then go now," she said, and a gentle pressure of her hand on my arm urged me toward the door.
I went without another word, and neither while in the street, nor after gaining my own house, did I look back for another glimpse of Vicky Van.
And yet, try as I would, maneuver as I might, I couldn"t prevent the arrival of Fleming Stone.
The Schuyler sisters were determined to have the great detective, and though Mrs. Schuyler wasn"t so anxious, yet she raised not the slightest objection, and after some persuasion, Stone agreed to take the case.
I was present at his first call to discuss details and was immensely interested in my first sight of the man.
Tall, well-formed, and of a gravely courteous manner, he impressed me as the most magnetically attractive man I had ever seen. His iron-gray hair and deep-set, dark eyes gave him a dignity that I had never before a.s.sociated with my notions of a detective.
The Schuyler sisters were frankly delighted with him.
"I know you"ll run down the murderer of my brother," Miss Rhoda exulted, while Miss Sarah began to babble volubly of what she called clues and evidence.
Fleming Stone listened politely, now and then asking a direct question and sometimes turning to Ruth Schuyler for further information.
As I watched him closely, it occurred to me that he really paid little attention to what the women said, he was more engaged in scanning their faces and noting their att.i.tudes. Perhaps I imagined it, but I thought he was sizing up their characters and their sympathies, and intended looking up his clues and evidence by himself.
"The first thing to do," he declared, at last, "is to find Miss Van Allen."
This was what I had feared, and remembering my promise to Vicky I said, "I think that will be impossible, Mr. Stone. She wrote she was leaving New York forever."
"But a householder like that can"t go away forever," Stone said, "she must look after her goods and chattels, and she must pay her rent--"
"No, she owns the house."
"Must pay the taxes, then. Must sell it, or rent it or do something with it."
"It would seem so," I agreed. "And yet, if one is wanted for murder one would sacrifice household goods and the house itself in order to escape being caught."
"True," and Stone nodded his head. "But, still, I fancy she would return for something. Few women could leave their home like that, and not have some valuables or some secret papers or something for which they must return. I venture to say Miss Van Allen has already been back to her house, more than once, on secret errands."
Was the man a clairvoyant? How could he know that Vicky had done this very thing? But I realized at once, that he knew it, not from cognizance of facts, but from his prescience of what would necessarily follow in such a case.