"Now for this chest," said Fibsy, indicating a large low box on rollers that he pulled out from under the couch. It was locked, but Stone picked it open, and threw back the cover. At the bottom of it, beneath several other gowns, we found the costume Vicky had worn the night of the murder! "My good land!" ejaculated Fibsy, "the gold-fringed rig! Ain't it classy!" Stone lifted out the dress, heavy with its weight of gold beads, and held it up to view. On the flounces were stains of blood! And from the wrinkled folds fell, with a clatter to the floor, the missing carving-knife! I stooped to pick up the knife. "'Scuse me, Mr. Calhoun," cried Fibsy, grasping my hand, "don't touch it! Finger prints, you know!" "Right, boy!" and Stone nodded, approvingly. "Pick it up, Fibsy." "Yessir," and taking from his pocket a pair of peculiar shaped tongs, Terence carefully lifted the knife and laid it on the glass-topped dressing table. "Probly all smudged anyway," he muttered, squinting closely at the knife. "But there's sure some marks on it! Gee, Mr. Stone, there's sumpum doin'!" His eyes shone and his skinny little fingers trembled with excitement of the chase. Stone studied the gold-fringed dress. The blood stains on the flounces, though dried and brown, were unmistakable. "Wonderful woman!" he exclaimed. "Now, we've got this dress, and what of it? She put it here, not caring whether we got it or not. She's gone for good. She'll never be taken. This proves it to my mind." "And the knife?" I asked, thrilling with interest. "There you are again. If Miss Van Allen put that there for us to discover, the marks on it are of no use. Perhaps some she had put there purposely. You see, I'm inclined to grant her any degree of cleverness from what I know of her ability so far. She is a witch. She can hoodwink anybody." "Except F. Stone, Esquire," amended Fibsy. "You pussieve, Mr. Calhoun, the far-famed detective, is already onto her coives!" Stone looked up to smile at the boy's speech, but he returned his gaze to the golden-trimmed gown. "Of course," he said, "it is improbable that she took this off before she left the house that night. I opine she threw a big cloak round her and rushed out to the house of some friend. Likely she found a taxicab or even commandeered some waiting private car for her flight. You know, we are dealing with no ordinary criminal. Now, if I am right, she brought this gown back here on some of her subsequent trips. As to the knife, I don't know. I see no explanation as yet. Since she stabbed her victim with another knife--why in the world hide this one up here? What say, Fibsy?" "'Way past me. Maybe she was usin' both knives, an' the other one turned the trick, an' when she got up here she seen she had this one still in her grip, an' she slung it in this here chest to hide it. I ain't sure that's the c'reck answer, but it'll do temp'rar'ly. I say, Mr. Stone, I got an awful funny thing to ask you."