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Again Stone examined the walls, but the immaculate white and gold sides of the music room said nothing intelligible to me, and if they spoke to him he did not divulge the message. The women exclaimed at the beautiful room, and, as Stone's examination here was short, we all filed back to Vicky's bedroom.
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.
With a glimmer of hope that the mailed parcel containing the key might give me a clue to Vicky's whereabouts, I at last went to sleep. Next morning at breakfast I said nothing of my night experiences. I told Winnie, however, that she needn't watch the Van Allen house, as I had heard that Vicky had left it permanently. "However could you hear that?" exclaimed my wideawake sister.
"I knew about it. The pie is full of lovely trinkets and little jokes on the guests." "I thought those things were for children's parties," observed Fenn, looking with interest at the gorgeous confection. "They're really for birthdays," said Mrs. Reeves, "and to-day is Vicky's birthday. That was part of her surprise. She didn't want it known, lest the guests should bring gifts.
She knew more of Vicky's home life than any of the rest of us, but even she knew nothing of the girl's origin. She had first met her at one of Miss Gale's studio parties, and had taken a fancy to her at once. "Where did you first meet her, Miss Gale," the coroner interrupted to ask. "She came to my studio to look at my pictures," was the reply. "She admired them, and bought one.
Alone there, in the midnight hours, I resolved to devote my time, all I could spare, my energies, all I could command, and my life, so far as I might, to the discovery of the truth, and I might or might not reveal my findings as seemed to me best. Leaving the music room, I went back through the long hall, and passed the door of Vicky's bedroom. Reverently I looked inside.
I waited some time for a response, but at last I heard Vicky's voice say, "Who is it, please?" An impulse of protection for her, not for myself, led me to withhold my name. Nor did I speak hers. I said, "This is the man who just left your house. I called up to offer help, if I can render you any." "That's good of you," she returned, in a heartfelt way.
I gave my own testimony, which was all true, and all frank, except that I said nothing of my nocturnal visit to Vicky's house or of our telephone conversation. If my conscience smote me I combated it with my chivalry, which would not allow me to betray a woman into the hands of the law.
"Who's this Somers?" I asked him, rather abruptly. "Is he all right?" "You bet," said Steele, smiling. "He's a top-notcher." "In what respects?" "Every and all." "You've known him long?" "Yes. I tell you Cal, he's all right. Forget it. What's the surprise for supper? Do you know?" "Of course not. It wouldn't be a surprise if we all knew of it." "Well, Vicky's surprises are always great fun.
Vicky once gone, with promise of frequent intercourse by letter and otherwise, it was to Philippa's fine house and respectable man-servant she next surrendered herself. The meeting was cool, but not intolerable to a goddess sore from Vicky's whip. Philippa could ply a longer lash, but not by the same right, nor with the same passion to drive it home.
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