As Win had said, she looked charming, although pathetic in her black robes. She permitted herself a touch of white at the turned-in throat, and a white flower was tucked in her bodice. A contrast, indeed, to the severe garb of the spinster sisters, who looked like allegorical figures of hopeless gloom.
But their manner was more of militant revenge, and, having heard the verdict of the coroner's jury, they were ready to take up the case themselves.
"Come in, Mr. Calhoun," they called out, as I entered the library, "you're just the man we want to see. Now, that the coroner has finished his task, we will take the matter up. Mr. Lowney, I suppose, will continue the search for Miss Van Allen, but we fear he will not be successful. So, we have determined to send for the great detective, Fleming Stone."
"Stone!" I cried, "why, he won't work with the police."
"Then he can work without them," declared Rhoda, with asperity. "I've heard wonderful stories of that man's success, and we're going to engage him at once."
"He's very expensive," I began.
"No matter. We're going to find our brother's murderer if it takes every penny of our fortune."
"What do you think of this plan, Mrs. Schuyler?" I asked.
"I've not been consulted," she said, with a slight smile. "Since Mr. Randolph's sisters choose to adopt it, I have no reason to object. I know nothing of Mr. Stone, but if he is really a great detective, he will not condemn that girl unheard. And if she is proved guilty, of course the claims of justice must be met. Do you know him, Mr. Calhoun?"
"Not personally. I've often heard of him, and he's a wonder. If you want to find Miss Van Allen, you can't do better than to get him on the trail. If he can't find her, nobody can."