None of us said much more. We all were stunned in a way, by this unexpected development, and had to readjust our theories.
"Well," Miss Rhoda said, decidedly, "I shall consult Mr. Stone, anyway. I've written him, and though I've not mailed the letter yet, I shall send it off to-night. Then when he comes to talk it over we can see what he says and abide by his judgment."
"That's a good idea, Rhoda," and Ruth Schuyler nodded assentingly; "I, too, want justice, and if Fleming Stone thinks he can find Miss Van Allen, let him do so."
It was six o'clock then, and Win and I went home, leaving the Schuyler ladies to their own discussions.
Ruth Schuyler's hand lingered a moment in mine, as I bade her adieu, and she said, wistfully, "I wish you would tell me just what you think we had better do. I am so unaccustomed to judging for myself in any important matter."
"I think it is wise to get Mr. Stone," I returned. "In any case it can do no harm, you know."
"No, I suppose not," and she gave me one of her rare smiles of appreciation. "I am glad you are looking after us, instead of Mr. Bradbury," she said further, and I sincerely responded that I was glad, too.
Another surprise awaited me at home. On the hall table lay my own mail, and as I picked it up, and ran the letters over, there was one from Vicky Van.
I hastily concealed it from Winnie's sharp eyes, for I had no notion what it might divulge, and hurried with it up to my own room.
Impatiently I tore it open and raced through its contents.