



Produced by Linton Dawe, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.











VICKY VAN

BY CAROLYN WELLS



AUTHOR OF

"The Affair at Flower Acres," "Anybody But Anne,"
"The Mystery of the Sycamore," "Raspberry Jam,"
"The Vanishing of Betty Varian," "Spooky Hollow,"
"Feathers Left Around," etc.




TO

ONE OF MY BEST CHUMS

JULIAN KING SPRAGUE




CONTENTS

CHAPTER
     I. VICKY VAN
    II. MR. SOMERS
   III. THE WAITER'S STORY
    IV. SOMERS' REAL NAME
     V. THE SCHUYLER HOUSEHOLD
    VI. VICKY'S WAYS
   VII. RUTH SCHUYLER
  VIII. THE LETTER BOX
    IX. THE SOCIAL SECRETARY
     X. THE INQUEST
    XI. A NOTE FROM VICKY
   XII. MORE NOTES
  XIII. FLEMING STONE
   XIV. WALLS HAVE TONGUES
    XV. FIBSY
   XVI. A FUTILE CHASE
  XVII. THE GOLD-FRINGED GOWN
 XVIII. FIBSY DINES OUT
   XIX. PROOFS AND MORE PROOFS
    XX. THE TRUTH FROM RUTH




CHAPTER I

VICKY VAN


Victoria Van Allen was the name she signed to her letters and to her
cheques, but Vicky Van, as her friends called her, was signed all over
her captivating personality, from the top of her dainty, tossing head
to the tips of her dainty, dancing feet.

I liked her from the first, and if her "small and earlies" were said
to be so called because they were timed by the small and early
numerals on the clock dial, and if her "little" bridge games kept in
active circulation a goodly share of our country's legal tender, those
things are not crimes.

I lived in one of the polite sections of New York City, up among the
East Sixties, and at the insistence of my sister and aunt, who lived
with me, our home was near enough the great boulevard to be designated
by that enviable phrase, "Just off Fifth Avenue." We were on the north
side of the street, and, nearer to the Avenue, on the south side, was
the home of Vicky Van.

Before I knew the girl, I saw her a few times, at long intervals, on
the steps of her house, or entering her little car, and
half-consciously I noted her charm and her evident zest of life.

Later, when a club friend offered to take me there to call, I accepted
gladly, and as I have said, I liked her from the first.

And yet, I never said much about her to my sister. I am, in a way,
responsible for Winnie, and too, she's too young to go where they play
Bridge for money. Little faddly prize bags or gift-shop novelties are
her stakes.

Also, Aunt Lucy, who helps me look after Win, wouldn't quite
understand the atmosphere at Vicky's. Not exactly Bohemian--and yet,
I suppose it did represent one compartment of that handy-box of a
term. But I'm going to tell you, right now, about a party I went to
there, and you can see for yourself what Vicky Van was like.

"How late you're going out," said Winnie, as I slithered into my
topcoat. "It's after eleven."

"Little girls mustn't make comments on big brothers," I smiled back at
her. Win was nineteen and I had attained the mature age of
twenty-seven. We were orphans and spinster Aunt Lucy did her best to
be a parent to us; and we got on smoothly enough, for none of us had
the temperament that rouses friction in the home.

"Across the street?" Aunt Lucy guessed, raising her aristocratic
eyebrows a hair's breadth.

"Yes," I returned, the least bit irritated at the implication of that
hairbreadth raise. "Steele will be over there and I want to see him--"

This time the said eyebrows went up frankly in amusement, and the kind
blue eyes beamed as she said, "All right, Chet, run along."

Though I was Chester Calhoun, the junior partner of the law firm of
Bradbury and Calhoun, and held myself in due and consequent respect, I
didn't mind Aunt Lucy's calling me Chet, or even, as she sometimes
did, Chetty. A man puts up with those things from the women of his
household. As to Winnie, she called me anything that came handy, from
Lord Chesterton to Chessy-Cat.

I patted Aunt Lucy on her soft old shoulder and Winnie on her hard
young head, and was off.

True, I did expect to see Steele at Vicky Van's--he was the club chap
who had introduced me there--but as Aunt Lucy had so cleverly
suspected, he was not my sole reason for