Vicky Van Part 40

"No; it is diabolically clever, but quite understandable. Julie and Tibbetts are the same. This confidential woman looked after her mistress' safety on both sides. She remained when Vicky Van disappeared. She looked after everything, took care of details, attended to tradesmen and all such matters, and when ready followed Mrs. Schuyler into the other house, or went from here to her rooms a few blocks away and later came from them. When there were to be parties, Julie left the Schuyler house early, came here and made preparations, and then as late as ten or eleven o'clock maybe, Mrs.

Schuyler came in from her home, when her own household thought her abed and asleep. She could go back in the early morning hours, with no one the wiser. Or, if she chose and she did when her husband was out of town, she could pretend she had gone away for a visit and stay here for days at a time."

I began to see. Truly the wall's tongue had spoken. If this awful theory of Stone's were true, it could only be managed in this way. I remembered how long and how often Vicky Van was absent from her home.

I remembered that sometimes she was late in arriving at her own parties, although she always came down from upstairs in her party regalia.

"How did you come to suspect Tibbetts?" I asked, suddenly.

"Her teeth," said Fibsy. "I saw that Tibbetts had false teeth, anyway, an' I says, why can't Julie's gold teeth be false, too? And they are.

They're in the safe!"

What marvelous precautions they had taken! To think of having a set of teeth for the maid Julie that should appear so different from those of Tibbetts! Surely this thing was the result of long and careful planning.

"Her gla.s.ses, too," went on Fibsy. "You see, they made her different from Tibbetts in appearance. That was all the disguise Tibbs had, the gold teeth, the big rimmed specs and the brown scratch--wig, you know.

But it was enough. n.o.body notices a servant closely, and these things altered her looks sufficient. Miss Van Allen, now, she had a wig an' a lot of colorin' matter an' her giddy clothes. Nothin' left to reckernize but her eyes, an' they were so darkened by the long dark lashes and brows that she fixed up that it made her eyes seem darker.

I got all this from the pitchers the artist lady made. You see, she caught the color likeness but not the actual features. So I sized up the resemblance of the real women. Oh, Mr. Stone, what are we going to do?"

"Our duty, Terence."

Then I put forth my plea, that I might be allowed to go and see Ruth first; that I might prepare her for the disclosures they would make, the discoveries they would announce.

But Stone denied me. He said they would do or say nothing that would unnecessarily hurt her feelings, but they must accompany me. Indeed, he implied, that it might be as well for me not to go.

But I insisted on going, and we three went on our terrible errand.

Ruth received us in the library. She saw at once that her secret was known, and she took it calmly.

"You know," she said, quietly, to Stone. "I am sorry. I hoped to hide my secret and let Victoria Van Allen forever remain a mystery. But it cannot be. I admit all--"

"Wait, Ruth," I cried out. "Admit nothing until you are accused."

"I am accused," she responded, with a sad smile. "I heard you talking in the pa.s.sage between the rooms. In my bathroom I could hear you distinctly. There is there a mirror door also. It looks like an ordinary mirror and has a wide, flat nickel frame, matching the other fittings. Yes, I had the sliding doors built for the purposes which you have surmised. Shall I tell you my story?"

"Yes, and let us hear it, too," came from the doorway, and the two sisters appeared, agog with excitement and curiosity.

"Come in," said Ruth, quietly. "Sit down, please, I want you to hear it. Most of it you know, Sarah and Rhoda, but I will tell it briefly to Mr. Stone, for I want not leniency, but justice."

I seated myself at Ruth's side, and though I said no word I knew that she understood that my heart and life were at her disposal and that whatever she might be about to tell would not shake my love and devotion. It is not necessary to use words when a life crisis occurs.

"I was an orphan," Ruth said, "brought up by a stern and Puritanical old aunt in New England. I had no joy or pleasures in my childhood or girlhood days. I ran away from home to become an actress. Tibbetts, my old nurse, who lived in the same village, followed me to keep an eye on me and protect me in need. I was a chorus girl for just one week when Randolph Schuyler discovered me and offered to marry me if I would renounce the stage and also gay life of any sort and become a dignified old-fas.h.i.+oned matron. I willingly accepted. I was only seventeen and knew nothing of the world or its ways. As soon as we were married he forbade me any sort of amus.e.m.e.nt or pleasure other than those practised by his elderly sisters. I submitted and lived a life of slavery to his whims and his cruelty for five years. He had agreed to let me have Tibbetts for my maid, as he deemed her a staid old woman who would not encourage me in wayward desires. Nor did she.

But she realized my thraldom, my lonely, unhappy life, and knew that I was pining away for want of the simple innocent pleasures that my youth and light-hearted nature craved. I used to beg and plead for permission to have a few young friends or to be allowed to go to a few parties or plays. But Mr. Schuyler kept me as secluded as any woman in a harem. He gave me no liberty, no freedom in the slightest degree.

"I had been married about four years when I rebelled and began to think up a scheme of a dual existence. I had ample time in the long lonely hours to perfect my plans, and I had them arranged to the minutest detail long before I put them in operation. Why, I practised writing with my left hand and acquired a different speaking voice for a year before I needed such subterfuges. Had I been able to persuade my husband to give me even a little pleasure or happiness I would willingly have given up my wild scheme. But he wouldn't; so once when he was away on a long trip, I had the pa.s.sage between the two houses made.

"I had previously bought the other house, under the name of Van Allen, for I had money of my own, left me by an uncle that Mr. Schuyler knew nothing about. Of course, this money came to me after I was married or I never should have wed Randolph Schuyler.

"Tibbetts' cousin, an expert carpenter, did the work, and, as he afterward went to England to live, I had no fear of discovery that way. Indeed, there was little fear of discovery in any way. I was expected to spend much of my time in my own rooms--and my bedroom, dressing room and bath form a little suite by themselves and can be locked off from the rest of the house. So, when I retired to my rooms for the night I could go through into the other house and become Vicky Van at my pleasure."

"I can't believe such baseness!" declared Rhoda Schuyler, "such ingrat.i.tude to a husband who was so good to you--"

"He wasn't good to me," said Ruth, quietly, "nor was I ungrateful.

Randolph Schuyler spoiled my life; he denied me everything I asked for, every innocent pleasure and amus.e.m.e.nt. So, I found them for myself. I did nothing wrong. As Victoria Van Allen I had friends and pleasures that suited my age and my love of life, but there never was anything wrong or guilty in my house---"

"Until you killed your husband!" interrupted Sarah.

"Until the night of Randolph Schuyler's appearance at Vicky Van's house," Ruth went on. "I had been told of a Mr. Somers who wanted to know me, but I had no idea it was my husband masquerading under a false name. He came there with Mr. Steele. Of course, I recognized him, but he did not know me at once. I sat, playing bridge, and wondering how I could best make my escape. I saw that he didn't know me and then, suddenly as I sat, holding my cards, and he stood beside me, he noticed a tiny scar on my shoulder. He made that scar himself, one night, when he hit me with a hot curling iron."

"What!" I cried, unable to repress an exclamation of horror.

"Yes, I was curling my hair with the tongs and he became angry at me for some trivial reason, as he often did, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the iron and hit my shoulder. It made a deep burn and he was very sorry.

"Whenever he saw it afterward he said, 'Never again!' meaning he would never strike me again. Then, when he noticed the scar that night, although I had put on a light scarf to cover it, he said 'Never again!' in that peculiar intonation, and I knew then that he knew Victoria Van Allen was his own wife.

"I ran out to the dining-room and he followed me."

"And you stabbed him!" cried Rhoda; "stabbed your husband! Murderess!"

"I don't deny it," said Ruth, slowly. "The jury must decide that. I must be tried, I suppose--"

"Don't, Ruth!" I cried, in agony. "Don't talk like that! You shall not be tried! You didn't kill Schuyler! If you did it was in self-defence.

Wasn't it? Didn't he try to kill you?"

"Yes, he did. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the little carver from the sideboard and attacked me,--and I--and I--"

"Don't say it, Ruth--keep still!" I ordered, beside myself with my whirling thoughts. The little carving-knife!

"And you defended yourself with the caterer's knife--" began Stone, but Fibsy wailed, "No! No! It wasn't Mrs. Schuyler! I've got the prints from the caterer's knife and they ain't Mrs. Schuyler's at all!

She didn't kill him!"

"No, she didn't!" and Tibbetts appeared in the library doorway. "I did it myself."

"That's right!" and Fibsy's eyes gleamed satisfaction; "she did! It's her fingermarks on the knife that stabbed old Schuyler. They're plain as print! n.o.body thought of matching up those marks with Tibbetts's mitt! But I'll bet she did it to save Mrs. Schuyler's life!"

"I did," and Tibbetts came into the room and stood facing us.

"Tell your story," said Stone, abruptly, as he looked at the white-faced woman.

"Here it is," and Tibbetts looked fondly at Ruth as the latter's piteous glance met hers. "I've loved and watched over Mrs. Schuyler all her life. I've protected her from her husband's brutality and helped her to bear his cruelty and unkindness. When she conceived the plan of the double life I helped her all I could, and I got my cousin to do the work on the houses that made it all possible. Then, I was Julie, and I devoted my life and energies to keeping the secret and allowing my mistress to have some pleasure out of her life. And she did." Tibbets looked affectionately, even proudly, at Ruth. "The hours she spent in that house as Victoria Van Allen were full of simple joys and happy occupation. She had the books and pictures and furniture that she craved. She had things to eat and things to wear that she wanted. She went to parties and she had parties; she went to the theatre and to the shops, and wherever she chose, without let or hindrance. It did my heart good to see her enjoy herself in those innocent ways.

"Then Mr. Schuyler came. I knew the man. I knew that he came because he had heard of the charm and beauty of Vicky Van. He had no idea he would find her his own wife! When he did discover it I knew he would kill her. Oh, I knew Randolph Schuyler! I knew nothing short of murder would satisfy the rage that possessed him at the discovery. I prepared for it. I got the little boning-knife from the pantry, and as Mr. Schuyler lifted the carver and aimed it at Ruth's breast I drove the little knife into his vile, wicked, murderer's heart. And I'm glad I did it! I glory in it! I saved Ruth's life and I rid the world of a scoundrel and a villain who had no right to live and breathe on G.o.d's earth! Now, you may take me and do with me as you will. I give myself up."

It was the truth. On the carving-knife appeared, plain as print, the finger marks of Randolph Schuyler, proved a hundred times by prints photographed from his own letters, toilet articles, and personal belongings in his own rooms. In his mad fury at the discovery of Ruth masquerading as Vicky Van, and in his sudden realization of all that it meant, he clutched the first weapon he saw, the little carver, to end her life and gratify his madness for revenge. Just in time, the watching Tibbets had intervened, stabbed Schuyler, and then ran upstairs, to escape through the hidden doors to the other house.

Ruth, stunned at the sight of the blow driven by Tibbetts, and dazed by her own narrow escape from a fearful death, picked up the carver that dropped from Schuyler's lifeless hand and ran upstairs, too.

She had, she explained afterward, a hazy idea that she was picking up the knife that Tibbetts had used, so bewildered was she at the swift turn of events. And as she stooped over Schuyler in her frenzy the waiter had seen her and a.s.sumed she was the murderer. This, too, explained the blood on the flounces of her gown--it had brushed the fallen figure of her husband and became stained at the touch.

The two women had, of course, slipped through the connecting mirror doors into the Schuyler house, and long before the alarm was brought there they were rehabilitated and ready to receive the news.

Then Ruth's quandary was a serious one. Innocent herself, she could not tell of her double life without making the whole affair public and incriminating Tibbetts, whom she loved almost as a mother and who had saved Ruth's life by a fraction of a second. An instant's delay and Schuyler's knife would have been driven into Ruth's heart.