"You open it, Mr. Calhoun," said Ruth, as if she shrank from the task.
I took it gravely, for it seemed to me to portend trouble for little
Vicky. Was she giving herself up, or what?
Win handed me a letter-opener, and I slit the envelope.
As they breathlessly awaited my words, I read:
To Mrs. Randolph Schuyler: Dear Madam: It is useless to look for me. To-day I am leaving New York forever. The mystery of Mr. Schuyler's death will never be solved, the truth never learned. I alone know the secret and it will die with me. You may employ detectives from now till doomsday but you will discover nothing. So give up the search, for you will never find Victoria Van Allen.
There was a pause as I finished reading. Myself, I was thrilled by a certain phrase in the letter. Vicky said, "the secret will die with me." Again, I felt that she was intending to bring about her own death, and that speedily. Would we know it if she did? I was thinking deeply, when Miss Rhoda, spoke:
"I believe that girl means to kill herself, and I should think she would!"
"Why do you think that?" and Ruth looked up with a startled face.
"It sounds so, and it would be the natural outcome of her remorse at her dreadful deed."
"I think she must be guilty," said Winnie, her dear little countenance drawn with grief, as she studied the letter for herself.