Where's that girl? Why did she kill him?"

"She didn't!" Mrs. Reeves began to cry. "She didn't know it _was_ Mr.
Schuyler. She doesn't _know_ Mr. Schuyler. I'm sure she doesn't,
because we were making lists for bazar patrons and she said she would
ask only people she knew, and we tried to find somebody who knew
Randolph Schuyler, to ask him, but we didn't know anybody who was
acquainted with him at all. Oh, it can't be the rich Schuyler! Why
would he come here?"

"We must get hold of Mr. Steele as soon as possible," said Fenn,
excitedly. "Breen, call up his home address again, and if he isn't
there, go there and stick till he comes. Now, for some one to identify
this body. Call up the Schuyler house--no, better go around there.
Where is it, Ferrall?"

"Go straight out to the Avenue, and turn down. It's No.--only part of
a block down. Who's going?"

"You go, Lowney," said Fenn. "Mason, will you go?"

"Yes, of course. Come on, Lowney."

The coroner gave Mrs. Reeves and myself permission to go home, and I
was glad to go. But Mrs. Reeves declared her intention of staying the
night, what was left of it, in Miss Van Allen's house.

"It's too late for me to go down alone," she said, in her sensible
way. "And, too, I'd rather be here, in case--in case Miss Van Allen
comes home. I'm her friend, and I know she'd like me to stay."