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"You go, Lowney," said Fenn. "Mason, will you go?" "Yes, of course. Come on, Lowney." The coroner gave Mrs. Reeves and myself permission to go home, and I was glad to go. But Mrs. Reeves declared her intention of staying the night, what was left of it, in Miss Van Allen's house. "It's too late for me to go down alone," she said, in her sensible way.
Calhoun," said Lowney, "we must make a thorough job of it this time." The bedroom was, it seemed to me, like a fairy dream. Furniture of white enameled wicker, with pink satin cushions. Everywhere the most exquisite appointments of silver, crystal and embroidered fabrics, and a bed fit for a princess.
It was quite true, no married man, and indeed, no man of the type or age of Randolph Schuyler, had ever, to my knowledge, enjoyed the friendship of Vicky Van. But not for a minute, did I think that she would go so far as to kill him for daring to enter her house! That was unthinkable. And yet, it seemed so to Lowney, and, apparently, to the sisters of the dead man.
"Dick, don't be silly," said Lena, pouting with pleasure, and she glanced again at herself in the glass. "I am nice, am I not?" "Nice!" ejaculated Dick, "Huyler and Maillard and Whitman and Lowney, all rolled into one big candy man, never dreamed of anything so sweet. Did you really think I was disrespectful? Why, little Lena!"
Well, anyway, the detective Lowney immediately sent an order to have the skylight matter looked into and the proceedings went on. Ariadne Gale was closely questioned as to how she knew of the picture in the back of Randolph Schuyler's watch. But she declared that he had shown it to her during their conversation that evening.
I had to write and telephone quite a good deal about that, though the sisters tended to it mostly." "Was there much said about about the actual case Winnie?" "You mean about the murder?" Win's clear eyes didn't blink at the word; "no, not much in my hearing. But Mrs. Schuyler wasn't in the room all the time. And I know Mr. Lowney isn't he the detective? was there once, and I think, twice."
A blue enameled watch bracelet, and a rhinestone tiara were representative purchases entered on these bills. But the pile of letters sank into insignificance, when we learned the fact that there was a letter from Vicky Van among them! Regardless of Mrs. Schuyler's feelings, Lowney read the letter aloud. This was it: My Dear Mr.
Flora only stayed a minute, and when she and Lou went out, she says, 'Lou, has Annie Poett been here since he was taken sick? and Lou began to cry and said that her mother answered the telephone when Annie called up last week, and it seems Annie asked was Joe Lowney sick and Mrs. King said 'No." "For heaven's sake!" Mrs. Monroe said, incredulous and absorbed. "Well, that's what Flora said.
We all knew that Vicky was a good citizen and all this was merely corroboration. What was wanted was some hint of her present whereabouts. Lowney had tried to get at this by the use of an address book he had found in Vicky Van's desk. He had telephoned or called on many of the people whose addresses were in the book, but all said over and over what we already knew.
"Now, I walk out into the hall. Is this the way she went?" "Yes, sir, the same." Lowney went from the dining-room to the hall, and it was clear that his further progress could not be seen by the peeping waiter. "You see, Fenn," the detective went on, "from here, in the back of this long hall, Miss Van Allen could have left the house by two ways.
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