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. I heard no sound of her, and I breathed more freely, as we did not find her in bedroom or in the boudoir beyond. She had, then, succeeded in getting away, and trusted to me not to betray her presence there. The boudoir or dressing-room, all pink satin and white enameled wicker called forth new exclamations from Winnie, and even Rhoda Schuyler expressed a grudging admiration. "It _is_ beautiful," she conceded. "I wish Ruth had come, after all. She loves this sort of furniture. Don't you remember, Sarah, she wanted Randolph to do up her dressing-room in wicker?" "Yes, but he didn't like it, he said it was gim-crackery. And the Circassian walnut of Ruth's room is much handsomer." "Of course it is. Ruth has a charming suite. Oh, do look at the dresses!" Fleming Stone had flung open a wardrobe door, and the costumes disclosed, though not numerous, were of beautiful coloring and design. Winnie, unable to resist the temptation, fingered them lovingly, and called my attention to certain wonderful confections. "What did she wear the night of the crime?" Stone asked, and I told him. Having Win for a sister, I am fairly good at describing women's clothes, and I drew a vivid word picture of Vicky's gold fringed gown. "Heavenly!" exclaimed Winnie, although she had had me describe the gown to her on the average of twice a day for a week. "I wish I could see it! Some day, Chet, I'm going to have one like it." "Fringe?" said Stone, curiously, "do women wear fringe nowadays?" "Oh, yes," I responded. "But it was a long fringe of gilt beads that really formed an overdress to the tulle skirt. Stay, I've a piece of it," and I took out my pocketbook. "See, here it is. I found it caught in those gilded leaves at the lower corner of the mirror frame--that long dressing-mirror." They all looked at the mirror, which hung flat against the wall; its foliated Florentine frame full of irregular protuberances. "Of course," said Winnie, nodding her head, "I know just how she stood in front of it, whirling around to see her gown from all sides, like this." Win whirled herself around, before the glass, and succeeded in catching a bit of her own full skirt on the frame. "You little goose!" I cried, as the fabric tore, "we don't need a demonstration at the expense of your frock!" Fleming Stone was studying the strand of gold fringe. It was composed of tiny beads, of varying shapes, and had already begun to ravel into shreds.