Part 25 (1/2)

Aside from my personal interest, I hated to think I should never know just how she did get away. For now, I had no hope that Fleming Stone or anyone else could ever find the girl. She was too canny to be taken, after her successful concealment so far.

I went downstairs after a time, but I said nothing of my letter to Aunt Lucy or Win.

They were eagerly discussing the latest news, and Aunt Lucy was saying, ”Yes, I've heard of Mr. Stone, and they do say he's a marvel.

I hope he'll find the girl, if only to learn the mystery of her disappearance.”

”Oh, he'll find her,” a.s.sured Winnie, ”I've heard a lot about him over there and he's a wizard! But I think he'll have a long chase.”

”Meantime, what becomes of the house?” queried Aunt Lucy. ”What does, Chet? Can anyone go in it who likes?”

”No,” I returned, a little shortly, for I foresaw Aunt Lucy had that absurd feminine desire to pry into another person's home. ”It's in charge of the police, and they won't let anyone in, without some very good reason.”

”Couldn't you get in?”

”I suppose I might,” I admitted unwillingly, ”if I had any business there.”

”Oh, do get up some business, Chet,” begged Winnie, ”and get the keys and let Auntie and me go with you! Oh, do! I'd love to see that girl's things!”

”Winnie, you're positively lowbred to show such curiosity!” I exclaimed, angrily--the more so, that I had the house key in my pocket at that moment. But I was glad I had not told them of Vicky Van's letter to me!

I waited until well past midnight, and then, after seeing the post patrol pa.s.s Vicky's door, I softly went out of my own house, and across the street.

I walked calmly up the steps of Vicky's home, and sadly put the latchkey in the door--for the last time. I felt as if I were performing funeral rites, and I entered and closed the door behind me, softly, as one does in the house of death.

I went up the stairs, in the gloom. It was not black darkness, for a partly raised blind gave me a glimmer of light from the street. Into the music room I went, and by my pocket flashlight, I took the lid from the Chinese jar. But there was no parcel inside!

Amazed, I threw the light down into the big vase, but it was utterly empty.

There was no use looking elsewhere for the parcel--I knew Vicky well enough to know that she would do exactly as she had said. Or, since she hadn't, I was sure that she would not have left that parcel in any other hiding-place.

I put the flashlight back in my pocket, and started downstairs.

Slowly I descended, for I still felt a little uncertain what to do.

Should I wait for a short time, or go back home and return again later?

I reached the foot of the stairs, and concluded to go home, and then think out my next step.

As I pa.s.sed the living-room door, I heard a low voice whisper my name.

I turned sharply. In the doorway, I could dimly discern a cloaked figure. ”Hus.h.!.+” she said, softly, and beckoned to me.

It was Vicky Van!

CHAPTER XIII

FLEMING STONE