"Now go," she said, after a moment, "I can't stand any more. Please go, and do what you can for me, without getting yourself into trouble. Go, and don't look back to see how I make my exit, will you?" "Indeed, I won't do that. Your confidences are safe with me, Vicky, and I will do all in my power to help you, in any way I can." "Then go now," she said, and a gentle pressure of her hand on my arm urged me toward the door. I went without another word, and neither while in the street, nor after gaining my own house, did I look back for another glimpse of Vicky Van. And yet, try as I would, maneuver as I might, I couldn't prevent the arrival of Fleming Stone. The Schuyler sisters were determined to have the great detective, and though Mrs. Schuyler wasn't so anxious, yet she raised not the slightest objection, and after some persuasion, Stone agreed to take the case. I was present at his first call to discuss details and was immensely interested in my first sight of the man. Tall, well-formed, and of a gravely courteous manner, he impressed me as the most magnetically attractive man I had ever seen. His iron-gray hair and deep-set, dark eyes gave him a dignity that I had never before associated with my notions of a detective. The Schuyler sisters were frankly delighted with him. "I know you'll run down the murderer of my brother," Miss Rhoda exulted, while Miss Sarah began to babble volubly of what she called clues and evidence. Fleming Stone listened politely, now and then asking a direct question and sometimes turning to Ruth Schuyler for further information. As I watched him closely, it occurred to me that he really paid little attention to what the women said, he was more engaged in scanning their faces and noting their attitudes. Perhaps I imagined it, but I thought he was sizing up their characters and their sympathies, and intended looking up his clues and evidence by himself. "The first thing to do," he declared, at last, "is to find Miss Van Allen." This was what I had feared, and remembering my promise to Vicky I said, "I think that will be impossible, Mr. Stone. She wrote she was leaving New York forever." "But a householder like that can't go away forever," Stone said, "she must look after her goods and chattels, and she must pay her rent--" "No, she owns the house." "Must pay the taxes, then. Must sell it, or rent it or do something with it." "It would seem so," I agreed. "And yet, if one is wanted for murder one would sacrifice household goods and the house itself in order to escape being caught." "True," and Stone nodded his head. "But, still, I fancy she would return for something. Few women could leave their home like that, and not have some valuables or some secret papers or something for which they must return. I venture to say Miss Van Allen has already been back to her house, more than once, on secret errands."