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Updated: June 21, 2025
The phonygraft in here is full of light opery and poplar music like that. Not a smell o' fugues and classic stuff. An' in at Schuyler's, as we seen to-night, there's no gay songs, no comic operas, no ragtime." "But, Terence," I broke in, "that all proves nothing! The Schuylers don't care for ragtime and Vicky Van does. You mustn't distort those plain facts to fit your absurd theory!"
It was really Vicky Van, her smooth black hair looped over her ears, her scarlet mouth, and soft pink cheeks, flushed with excitement of the moment, and her long dark lashes, which suddenly fell beneath the blinding flare of the light, all were those of the runaway girl. "Don't talk," she said, hastily, "let me do the talking. I want you to help me, will you?"
I wish she had a nice husband and some little kiddies." "Why hasn't she?" "Give it up. She's never seen any man she loved, I s'pose." "Perhaps she'll love this Somers person." "Heaven forbid! Nothing less than a crown prince would suit Vicky Van. Look, she's turning to meet him. Won't he be bowled over!"
Stone eyed me closely, and I began to feel a little uncomfortable under his gaze. Clearly, I'd have to tell the truth, or incur his suspicion. Nor did I wish to prevaricate. I felt friendly toward poor little Vicky, and yet, I had no mind to run counter to the interest of Ruth Schuyler. The two sisters I didn't worry about, and indeed, they could look out for themselves.
I must have it!" "Then you shall, if I can manage it. It is your book, it has proved of no value as evidence, you may as well have it." "Yes, I may as well have it. And now, Mr. Calhoun, will you go, please, or do you intend to turn me over to the police?" "Vicky!" I cried, "how can you say such a thing? Of course I'll go, if you bid me. But let me wait a minute.
"It must have been Miss Van Allen," said the coroner, decidedly; "had it been any other woman, and had she stabbed Mr. Schuyler, Miss Van Allen would not have disappeared. Now, if this woman who ran upstairs was Miss Van Allen, she effected an escape from the upper stories. Is there a skylight exit?" No one seemed to know, as no one had thought of Vicky Van leaving her house by such means.
I agreed, feeling rather flattered that the rich man's widow should so readily accept me as Mr. Bradbury's substitute. "I'm sorry you're going there," said Mrs. Reeves, her eyes filling with tears, as I took leave of her. "Of course, the Schuylers will pump you about Vicky, and try to make you say that she killed that man!" "I must tell Mrs. Schuyler the truth," I said.
"Yes, but can't you give Vicky the benefit of the doubt? For there is a doubt. Why should she kill a man she never had seen before?" "Perhaps he wasn't a stranger to her, after all." "Why, I heard her say, before he came, that she didn't know him." "You heard her say she didn't know Mr. Somers," I corrected. "I've been thinking this thing over. Suppose Vicky did know Mr.
As the only one present who knew Vicky Van, I was asked of the truth of their portraiture. "Fairly good," I said, "yes, more than that. This of Vicky shows the coloring of her face and hair and the general effect of her costume, more than her actual physiognomy. But it is certainly a close enough likeness to make her recognizable if you find her." And this was true.
That was to give her maid more time for the work. Now, Mr. Calhoun, go on with your objections to our conclusions. It helps our theory to answer your refutations." "Her letters," I mumbled, scarce able to formulate my teeming thoughts. "Vicky Van sent a letter to Ruth Schuyler " "Of course, she did.
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