Part 33 (2/2)
Bradbury looked after it, and he sanctioned my devotion to the Schuyler cause.
”Randolph Schuyler was an important citizen,” he said, ”and his murderer must be apprehended if possible. Do all you can, Calhoun, for humanity's sake and the law's. Take all the time you want to, I'll see to your important business.”
So, though I went downtown every morning, I came back at noon or soon after and plunged afresh into the work of finding Vicky Van.
There was little I could do, but Stone consulted and questioned me continually as to Vicky's habits or pursuits, and I told him frankly all I knew.
Also I managed to make business matters loom up so importantly as to necessitate frequent calls on Ruth Schuyler, and I spent most of my afternoon hours in the Fifth Avenue house.
And Ruth was most kind to me. I couldn't say she showed affection or even especial interest, but she turned to me as a confidant and we had many long, pleasant conversations when the subject of the mystery was not touched upon.
Though she never said a word against Randolph Schuyler, I couldn't help learning that, aside from the horror of it, his death was to her a blessed relief. He had not been a good man, nor had he been a good husband. On the contrary, he had blighted Ruth's whole life by thwarting her every innocent desire for gayety or pleasure.
For instance, she spoke of her great enjoyment of light opera or farce comedy, but as Mr. Schuyler didn't care for such entertainment he had never allowed her to go. He had a box at the Grand Opera, and Ruth loved to go, but she liked lighter music also.
This was not told complainingly, but transpired in the course of a conversation at which Fibsy chanced to be present.
”Gee!” he said, looking at Ruth commiseratingly, ”ain't you never heard 'The Jitney Girl' or 'The Prince of Peoria'?”
Ruth shook her head, smiling at the boy's amazement. There was a subtle sympathy between these two that surprised me, for Ruth Schuyler was fastidious in her choice of friends. But he amused her, and he was never really impertinent--merely naive and unconventional.
Well, on the day I speak of, Stone and I sat in the bas.e.m.e.nt room awaiting Fibsy's return. He was out after certain information and we hoped much from it.
”I gotta bunch o' dope,” he announced, as he suddenly appeared before us. ”Dunno 's it'll pan out much, but listen 'n' I'll spill a earful.”
I had learned that Fibsy, or Terence, as we ought to call him, was trying to discard his street slang, and was succeeding fairly well, save in moments of great excitement or importance. And so, I hoped from his slangy beginning, that he had found some fresh data.
”I chased up that ch.o.r.e boy first,” he related, ”an' he didn't know anything at all. Said Miss Van Allen's a lovely lady, but he 'most never saw her, the Julie dame did all the orderin' an' payin' s'far's he was concerned. Good pay, but irregular work. She'd be here a day or two, an' then like's not go 'way for a week. Well, we knew that before. Then, next, I tracked to his lair the furnace man. Same story. Here to-day an' gone to-morrer, as the song says. 'Course, he ain't only a stoker, he's really an odd job man--ashes, sidewalks, an'
such. Well, he didn't help none--any, I mean. But,” and the shock of red hair seemed to bristle with triumph, ”I loined one thing! That Julie has been to the sewing woman and the laundress lady and shut 'em up! Yes, sir! that's what she's done!”
”Tell it all,” said Stone, briefly.
”Well, I struck the seamstress first. She wouldn't tell a thing, and I said, calmly, 'I know Julie paid you to keep your mouth shut, but if you don't tell, the law'll make you!' That scared her, and she owned up that Julie was to see her 'bout a week ago and give her fifty dollars not to tell anything at all whatsomever about Miss Van Allen!
Some girl, that Vicky Van!”
”Julie went there herself!” I cried.
”Yep. The real Julie, gold teeth and all. But I quizzed the needle pusher good and plenty, and she don't know much of evidential value.”
It was always funny when Fibsy interlarded his talk with legal phrases, but he was unconscious of any incongruity and went on:
”You see, as I dope it out, she's accustomed to sit in Miss Van Allen's boodore a-sewin' an' might have overheard some gossip or sumpum like that, an' Miss Van Allen was afraid she'd scatter it, an'
so she sent Julie to shut her up. I don't believe the woman knows where Miss Van is now.”
”I must see her,” said Stone.
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