Part 27 (2/2)

Tibbetts, the middle-aged maid of Ruth Schuyler, told of the shock to her mistress when the news was brought.

”Mrs. Schuyler had retired,” said Tibbetts, ”at about ten o'clock, Mr.

Schuyler was out, and was not expected home until late. I attended her, and after she was in bed, I went to bed myself.”

”I'm told you do not live here,” commented Stone, though in a disinterested way, and at the same time making notes of some other matters in his notebook.

”I have a room around on Third Avenue,” replied Tibbetts. ”I like a little home of my own, and when Mrs. Schuyler permits me, I go 'round there to sleep, and sometimes I go in the daylight hours. But on that night I happened to be staying here.”

”Tibbetts is rather a privileged character,” interposed Ruth. ”She has been with me for many years, and as she likes a little place of her own, I adopted the plan of which she has told you.”

”But that night you were here?” said Stone, to the maid.

”Yes, sir. I slept in Mrs. Schuyler's dressing room, as I always do when I'm here. Then when Jepson told me the--the awful news, I awoke Mrs. Schuyler and told her.”

”Yes,” said Stone. ”I read all about that in the inquest report.”

CHAPTER XIV

WALLS HAVE TONGUES

”Now,” said Fleming Stone, after he had learned all he desired from the Schuyler household, ”now, if you please, I would like to go over the Van Allen house. You have the keys, Mr. Calhoun?”

”I have a latchkey to the street door.” I replied, ”the rooms are not locked.”

I don't know why exactly, but I hated to have him go through Vicky Van's house. Of course, it must have been because she had begged me not to let Stone get into the case at all. But I hadn't been able to prevent that, the two Schuyler sisters being determined to have him.

And I had no desire to impede justice or stand in the way of law and order, but, somehow or other, I felt the invasion of Vicky's home would bring about trouble for the girl, and my mind was filled with vague foreboding.

”We will go with you,” announced Miss Rhoda. ”I've wanted to see that house from the first. You'll go, Ruth?”

”Oh, no,” and Ruth Schuyler shrank at the idea. ”I've no wish to see the place where my husband was killed! How could you think of it? If I could do any good by going--”

”No, Mrs. Schuyler,” said Fleming Stone, ”you could do no good, and I quite understand why you would rather not go. The Misses Schuyler and Mr. Calhoun will accompany me, and we will start at once.”

”Can't I go?” asked Winnie, who had come in recently, ”I'm just crazy to see that house. You don't mind my going, do you, Ruth?”

”No, indeed, child. I'm perfectly willing.”

Mr. Stone raised no objection, so Winnie went with us.

It was nearly five o'clock, full daylight, though the dusk was just beginning to fall. We went round to Vicky Van's and I opened the door for the party to enter.

The house had begun to show disuse. There was dust on the s.h.i.+ning surfaces of the furniture and on the polished floors. The clocks had all stopped and the musty chill of a closed house was in the atmosphere.

”Ugh!” cried Winnie, ”what a creepy feeling! And this house is too pretty to be so neglected! Why, it's a darling house. Look at that heavenly color scheme!”

Winnie had darted into the living-room, with its rose and gray appointments, and we all followed her.

<script>