None was available, however, except the one to Ruth Schuyler. For the one to Randolph Schuyler was in Lowney's possession, and the one I had had from Vicky, and which was even then in my pocket, I had no intention of showing. It was not necessary, however, for Fleming Stone said one was enough to gather all that he could learn from her chirography. He studied it attentively, but only for a moment. Then he said, "A characteristic penmanship, but to me it only shows forcefulness, ingenuity and good nature. However, I'm not an expert, I only get a general impression, and the traits I've mentioned are undoubtedly to be found in the lady's nature. Are they not?" and he turned to me, as to one who knew. "They are," I replied, "so far as I know Miss Van Allen. But my acquaintance with her is limited, and I can only agree superficially." 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. But Ruth Schuyler was in a position to demand justice, and if that justice accused Vicky Van, I must be honest and fair to both in my testimony. Fleming Stone proceeded to question the women, more definitely and concisely now, and by virtue of his marvellous efficiency, he so shaped his inquiries, that he learned details with accuracy and rapidity. It would never have occurred to me to ask the questions that he put, but as he went on, I saw their pertinence and value. With Ruth's permission he called several of the servants and asked them a few things. Nothing of moment transpired, to my mind, but Stone was interested in a full account of where each servant was and what he was doing on the night of the murder. Each gave a straightforward and satisfactory account, and I realized that Stone was only getting a sense of the household atmosphere, and its relations to Mr. Schuyler himself. Tibbetts, the middle-aged maid of Ruth Schuyler, told of the shock to her mistress when the news was brought. "Mrs. Schuyler had retired," said Tibbetts, "at about ten o'clock, Mr. Schuyler was out, and was not expected home until late. I attended her, and after she was in bed, I went to bed myself." "I'm told you do not live here," commented Stone, though in a disinterested way, and at the same time making notes of some other matters in his notebook. "I have a room around on Third Avenue," replied Tibbetts. "I like a little home of my own, and when Mrs. Schuyler permits me, I go 'round there to sleep, and sometimes I go in the daylight hours. But on that night I happened to be staying here."