Part 20 (1/2)

”No, of course not, Winnie?” This from Aunt Lucy. ”It's one thing for you to help Mrs. Schuyler out in an emergency, but you're not to get mixed up in a murder trial!”

”An inquest isn't a trial, Auntie,” and Win looked like a wise owl, as she aired her new and suddenly acquired knowledge. ”Can't I go, Chess?”

”We'll see, Infant. Perhaps, if Mrs. Schuyler needs your services she may want you there with her.”

”Oh, in that case--” began Aunt Lucy, but Winnie was off again on one of her enthusiastic descriptions of the grand ways of the Schuyler household, and Aunt Lucy was quite willing to listen.

As for me, I wanted the benefit of every possible sidelight on the whole business, and I, too, took in all Winnie's detailed narrations.

CHAPTER X

THE INQUEST

The inquest was in progress. In the coroner's courtroom inquiry was being made in an endeavor to discover who was responsible for the death of Randolph Schuyler. The funeral of the millionaire had taken place, and the will had been read, and now the public awaited news of the action of the police in placing the crime and producing the criminal.

The case had become a celebrated one, not only because of the prominence of the victim, but because of the mystery surrounding the young woman suspected of the deed of murder.

Many voluntary witnesses had come forward with additional information regarding Victoria Van Allen, but none of these knew anything more of her relatives or progenitors than I did myself.

Some of these were asked to testify at the inquest, but more were not so called on, as their testimony was in no way material or vital.

I did not propose to attend all the sessions, myself, but I wanted to hear the opening queries and learn just how the case was to be managed.

Doctor Remson told of his examination of Mr. Schuyler's body and testified that death was practically instantaneous as a result of a single stab of the short, sharp knife. The knife was produced and identified. It had been carefully taken care of and had been photographed to preserve the faint fingermarks, which were on its handle, and which might or might not be the prints of the murderer's fingers.

The caterer Fraschini told of his orders for the party supper, and of the sending of his best and most faithful waiters to attend to the feast.

Luigi, the head waiter, again went over his story. I had heard this twice before, but I listened with deep interest, and I realized, that, granting the truth of his recital, there was no room for doubt of Vicky Van's guilt.

I hadn't of course, told of seeing her take her mail from the box that night, nor of her talking to me over the telephone. Should absolute law and justice call for that information, I might give it up, but at present, I was awaiting developments.

Vicky had sent me her mailbox key, and I had received it duly, by mail. It was not sent by parcel post, nor was it registered--these would have called for the sender's address--but, sent by ordinary first-cla.s.s letter post, the flat little key came duly and promptly.

I had not used it yet, the time was not ripe until that same night, and I intended to say nothing of it, until I had fulfilled my promise, if, indeed, I ever told of it.

But Luigi's story as I heard it again made me s.h.i.+ver with apprehension. Surely, since he saw Vicky right there at the moment, bending over the victim, blood stains on her gown, there could be no loophole of innocence. Had the murderer been some one else, and had Vicky known it, she must have made an outcry--must have accused the guilty party. There was no one whom Vicky loved well enough to wish to s.h.i.+eld. And, too, the guests were all in the big living-room; there was no one unaccounted for. If Luigi himself, or any of the caterer's men had by chance done the deed, Vicky wouldn't have run away! There was no sense in that. So I could see no possible theory but that of Vicky's actual guilt. Why she did it, was another story. She may have known Schuyler before, might have known him a long time, might have had her own reasons for wis.h.i.+ng him dead; but all that was outside the issue of her criminality. There was no eyewitness of the stabbing itself, but Luigi's presence on the scene an instant later, left no room for question as to the hand that had held the knife.

The jury seemed to think this. Gravely the men listened to what the Italian told, and their faces showed what they believed.

Then came the guests of the party. One after another, they told the same story. All knew Vicky fairly well, as a pleasant acquaintance; all liked her as a good friend; all enjoyed her as a delightful hostess; and many told individual instances of Vicky's kind heart and helping hand. Not infrequently had she lent a.s.sistance, both financial and in other ways, to these friends of hers. Never, they all said, had they known her to do a mean or deceitful act or to say an unkind or malicious word.

The men spoke of her as a gay, light-hearted b.u.t.terfly girl, who was a coquette, but who stopped short of a real flirtation; the women gave her such commendation as is rarely given them to their own s.e.x, and declared that Miss Van Allen was a simple, kindly, generous nature without a trace of the disposition which causes a woman to be dubbed a _cat_.

Norman Steele was present. He explained his sudden departure from the party by the fact that he had to catch an owl train for Chicago. He said, further, that Randolph Schuyler had asked him to take him around to Vicky Van's, as he wanted to meet her. But he had asked Steele, especially, to introduce him as Mr. Somers. He had given no reason for this, and Steele had thought little of it. Randolph Schuyler was a man whom his friends obeyed, often without question. I understood this. Steele was no more of a toady to the millionaire than most men would be; but a request of Randolph Schuyler's was not to be thoughtlessly refused, so Steele acquiesced.

He was reticent in further dilating on Schuyler's character. Said he often called on ladies who could not be called exclusive, but denied knowledge of definite cases or names.

On the whole, Steele's evidence didn't get us anywhere. We already knew that Schuyler had gone to Vicky Van's under an a.s.sumed name. The reason for this had little, if anything, to do with what had followed.