with her grief at the tragedy was a very human and feminine dismay at
the thought of her husband, stabbed to death in another woman's house!

"Who is Miss Van Allen?" she asked over and over again, unsatisfied
with the scant information Lowney could give.

"And she lives near here? Just down the side street? Who _is_ she?"

"I don't think she is anyone you ever heard of," I said to her. "She
is a pleasant young woman, and so far as I know, all that is correct
and proper."

"Then why would she have Randolph Schuyler visiting her?" flashed the
retort. "Is that correct and proper?"

"It may be so," I said, for I felt a sort of loyalty to Vicky Van.
"You see, she was not acquainted with Mr. Schuyler until this
evening."

"Why did he go there, then?"

"Steele brought him--Norman Steele."

"I don't know any Mr. Steele."

I began to think that Randolph Schuyler had possessed many
acquaintances of whom his wife knew nothing, and I concluded to see
Bradbury before I revealed any more of Schuyler's affairs.

And then, Lowney began adroitly to put questions instead of answering