"These are what I like," said Ruth, smiling, as the footman passed a small bowl of sugared rose-leaves and crisp green candied mint leaves. "Take some, Terence. They're better for you than liqueurs. Help yourself."
"They are good," and Fibsy obeyed her. "They taste like goin' into a florist's shop."
"So they do," agreed Ruth, herself taking a goodly portion.
"Rubbish," said Rhoda. "I think these things are silly. Randolph would never allow them."
"Now, Rhoda, there's no harm in a few candies," protested Ruth, and then she changed the subject quickly, for she evaded a passage at arms with the sisters whenever possible.
The talk, however, soon drifted to the never forgotten subject of the murder. The sisters mulled over all they had heard or learned during the day and begged Stone to propound theories or make deductions therefrom.
Stone obeyed, as that was what he was employed for.
"I think Miss Van Allen is masquerading as somebody else," he affirmed. "I believe she is in some house not very far from this neighborhood, under the care of some friend and accompanied and looked after by her maid Julie. I believe she is in touch with all that goes on, not only from the newspapers but by means of some spy system or secret investigation. But the net is drawing round her. I cannot say just how, but I feel sure that we shall yet get her. It was a grievous mischance that I let her escape last night, but I shall have another chance at her, I'm sure."
"And then you'll arrest her," said Rhoda, with a snap of her thin lips.
"I dare say. Lowney tells me the finger prints on the little knife with which Mr. Schuyler was killed are clear and unmistakable, but we have not yet found out whose they are."