The Vanishing of Betty Varian

“What do you suppose ‘Step’ means?” Granniss asked.

“Short for Stephen, I daresay,” replied Wise. “There’s no other name that begins, – oh, yes, there is Stepney, – but it doesn’t matter. ‘Step’ is our man, – of that I’m sure. But how to find such an elusive individual is a puzzling problem.”

“Then you believe there’s a secret passage?” Granniss said.

“There simply has to be. It may be a hidden one, – or it may be a false doorway or window frame, but there is most certainly a way for that villain to get in and out of this house at will. Now that way must be found, and at once or I give up my profession and make no further claim to detective ability!”

“We’ll find it, Penny,” Zizi promised him.

“Find it, if you have to tear down the whole house,” Minna exclaimed, excitedly. She was nervously caressing the note from Betty, and was ready to further any project that was suggested.

“You don’t own the house?” Wise asked.

“No; but I’ll buy it. It’s in the market, and the price is not so very high. Then you can tear it down, if you wish, and I can sell the ground afterward.”

“Good business deal!” Granniss said. “I’d like nothing better than to drive a pick into these old walls.”

“But there’s no place to drive, with any expectation of success,” Wise demurred. “Where’s your friend North? Isn’t he an architect? Can you get him up here?”

“Surely,” Rod said, “I’ll telephone him, if you say so. I’m sure he’ll be glad to come. He isn’t a professional architect, but he knows more about building plans than many a firm of contractors does.”

“Call him, then, please, when you’ve finished your breakfast,” Wise directed, and returned to his study of the letter.

“I can’t understand it at all,” he groaned to Zizi, after breakfast was over.

Minna had gone to her room, and Rodney was reading the mail.

Wise and Zizi were in the hall, sitting on the sofa with the yellow pillows.

“This figures in it,” Zizi said, patting the yellow pillow that had held the little hairpin.

“As how?”

“Find that secret entrance first,” she said, drawing her pretty brows together. “That will explain ’most everything. And, Penny, it isn’t a secret passage, as they call it. It’s just a concealed entrance.”

“And through the cellar, – for you know, there was cellar dust on the library floor, – near the safe.”

“That only proved the man had been down cellar, – hiding probably until the time was ripe. I’ve scoured that cellar myself.”

“So have I, Zizi, and there’s not a loose stone in its walls or a trap in its floor, – of that I’m certain.”

“I’m sure of that, too; and Penny, I even went down the well.”

“You did! You little rascal. They told me Dunn went down and examined that.”

“Well, I had to go, too. It wasn’t difficult, – the stone sides are easy to climb up and down. Not very slippery, either. But dirty! My, I ruined one of my pet dresses. Yet there was no hole in the old well sides. No missing stone or anything suspicious. And that settles the cellar!”

“I don’t think the entrance is through the cellar. I incline more to the idea of a false door frame, – you know, the frame and all on hinges. Then, locking would not affect the opening of the whole affair.”

“That’s all right, – but, which door?”

“There are only two. I’ve examined them both. It may be a window.”

“Get friend North to confab with you. You’re clever enough, Penny, but you’re not a real architect. Mr North may have some suggestions to make, that with your ingenuity may work it out.”

Lawrence North arrived and with him came Claire Blackwood. The latter was urged to the visit largely by curiosity to learn how things were going, and also by a desire to renew her expressions of sympathy and hope to Mrs Varian.

Zizi managed to get a few words alone with Claire.

“Tell me about this Eleanor,” the girl said. “I feel sure a lot hinges on that peculiar matter of the pearls. Is Eleanor a scheming sort?”

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Mrs Blackwood. “She is a dear girl, – very young, and of a simple, charming nature. She was devoted to her cousin, and had no thought of the family pearls ever being hers. Don’t for a moment think of Eleanor Varian as capable of the slightest thought of disloyalty, much less of envy or covetousness.”

“Well, I just wanted to know,” said Zizi, with her winning, confidential smile. “What about her parents? Could her mother have influenced Mr Frederick Varian’s mind against his own daughter?”

“No, indeed! Nor Doctor Varian either! Why, they’re the best and finest kind of people, all of them. Whatever the explanation of those pearls being left away from Betty, it was not due to any maneuvering on the part of Eleanor or her parents! Of that you may be sure!”

Meantime, Lawrence North and the detective were discussing architecture. They were in the library and the plans of the house were spread out before them.

“I’m interested,” North said, looking eagerly at the plans, “for I’m always fond of plans. And, too, I want to prove my contention that there’s no space unaccounted for. At first, I thought there might be a bit of spare room between this wall and this, – you see. But that jamb is merely the back of a small cupboard in the hall. Can you find any hint of false building?”

“No; I can’t,” Wise admitted, and then he unfolded his theory of a double door frame, – or, rather a hinged door frame or window frame.

“That,” said North, “must be looked for in the house, not on the plans. But I doubt it. Any such thing would be apt to show the joints after years of disuse. You see, this house hasn’t been lived in before for a long time.”

“Then I’ll have to give up the notion of a double door,” and Wise sighed. “Now, here’s another matter. I want to go out in a boat, – a good motor boat, and have a look round the sea and the cliff and observe for myself the possibilities of an expert climber entering the grounds from that side. Will you take me in your boat? I’m told you have a fine one?”

“Of course I will,” was the ready response. “When do you want to go?”

“As soon as you can make it convenient. I want to work rapidly, as things are coming to a focus, and I don’t dare delay.”

North stared at him, as if wondering how a trip in his boat would advance the work definitely, but the detective had no intention of telling him about the kidnapper’s letter and, too, Wise wanted to view the whole headland from the ocean.

The result was that the two started off at once, and going first to North’s bungalow to get his keys, and also his man who helped run the boat, inside of an hour Pennington Wise found himself out on the ocean with North, and Joe Mills, who, though taciturn and even grumpy, was a good navigator.

“Remarkable cliff!” Wise exclaimed, amazed at its effect from below.

“It’s all of that!” North said; “most wonderful cliff on the whole Maine coast, they say. Notice the overhang, and then tell me if any one could climb it!”

“No human being could!” Wise declared. “And I can think of no animal, – unless a spider. Go clear round to the other side, will you?”

North gave orders and Mills drove them round the great headland, and on all sides it was as massive and forbidding as the first view.

“High tide, isn’t it?” asked Wise, as they went on beyond the headland, and then turned back again.

“Yes,” said North, glancing at the rocky base. “Almost top notch.”

“Rise high?”

“Very. Twenty feet at least.”

“I thought so. Marvelous tides up in this locality. Well, there’s nothing more to be discovered by gazing at these rocks and water: let’s go home.”

On the trip homeward, the detective proved himself so entertaining that North went back to Headland House with him.

Again they poured over the plans of the house, and Wise announced his determination of using a pick on one room in the third story that he surmised might be a trifle shorter than its adjacent walls implied.

“But it measures up,” North insisted.

“Not quite,” Wise declared. “There may be a two foot space in there, which would be enough for a secret passage.”

“You’re a persistent one!” North laughed. “All right, Mr Wise, go ahead with your investigation. May I help? I can wield a pick with the best of them!”

The detective glanced at the lithe, sinewy form, that seemed to be all muscle and no superfluous flesh, and said, admiringly, “I believe you! But I think Kelly or the chauffeur can do the really hard work.”

“No, let me do it,” North offered. “I’d really enjoy it.”

So, half amused at his own decision, Wise agreed, and the two went in search of the necessary tools.

But the result of their labor was absolutely nothing, beyond an incredible amount of dust and dirt, of lath and plaster, and two very much disheveled men.

“Now you must stay to dinner, Mr North,” the detective urged him. “You can put yourself to right enough for our informal meal, and it is too late for you to get to your home by dinner time.”

So North stayed, and at dinner they all discussed freely the whole affair. Mrs Varian did not appear at the table, the nurse thinking it was better for her to have no more excitement that day.

So Zizi calmly appropriated the chair at the head of the table, and acted the part of hostess prettily and capably.

Wise changed his mind about confiding to Lawrence North the matter of the ransom letters, and concluded that in the absence of Mrs Varian the subject might be discussed.

“At any rate,” the detective summed up, “we’re in the possession of positive knowledge. We know that Betty was kidnapped, – ”

“Oh, come now,” North said, thoughtfully, “those letters may be faked, – it seems to me they must be, – by some clever villain who expects to get all that money under false promises. I don’t believe for a minute there is a kidnapper – why would anyone kidnap Betty Varian?”

“For the usual kidnapper’s reason, – ransom,” Wise replied.

“Well, how did the kidnapper get in?”

“Oh, Mr North!” Wise threw up his hands. “This from you! I made up my mind that if one more person said to me, ‘How did the kidnapper get in?’ I’d have him arrested! I don’t know how he got in, – but I’m going to find out!”

“I think I won’t assist in the work personally the next time you try,” Lawrence said. “I scarcely could get myself presentable for dinner! But, seriously, Mr Wise, you asked me up here to consult with you. Now, I’m sure we must agree, that there is a way in and out of this house that we don’t know of. And that explains the entrance of the person who killed that poor girl in the kitchen.”

“And explains the disappearance of Miss Varian, and the scattering of her beads.”

“Beads?” said Lawrence North, interrogatively.

“Yes; there were several beads found in the kitchen that have been identified as hers.”

“Then the way in must be connected with the kitchen,” North remarked.

“Perhaps, but not necessarily.”

“It’s a dark night, Mr North,” Rodney Granniss said, hospitably. “Won’t you spend the night here? We can give you a room.”

After a polite demurrer, North accepted the invitation.

The evening was spent in further and repeated discussion of the known facts and the surmised possibilities of the mystery, and then, both the detective and Granniss went about locking up the house against further marauders, and they all retired.

And the next morning they found that Lawrence North had disappeared! His room showed signs of a struggle. A chair was overturned, a rug awry and deep scratches on the shining floor proved a scuffle of some sort.

“Another kidnapping case!” Granniss exclaimed. “Must have been a husky chap that got the better of North! Could there have been two against him? He’s a powerful fighter!”

“Search the house,” said Wise, briefly, “and keep everybody out of North’s bedroom. I’ll lock it and take the key myself. Now look for him. Is he given to practical joking?”

But no amount of searching disclosed Lawrence North, or any sign of him, dead or alive. And the locked doors and windows were undisturbed.

“He certainly didn’t leave of his own accord,” said Granniss; “he couldn’t have locked the doors behind him.”

“He was carried off,” cried Minna, “just as Betty was! Oh, who of us is safe now?”

CHAPTER XIII

Where is North?

Pennington Wise was at his wits’ end. His wits were of the finest type and had always stood him in good stead; but he had reached their limit, at least regarding this present case.

Baffling was too mild a word for it. Uncanny it was not, for there was no hint or evidence of anything supernatural in the taking off of Lawrence North. He was a big, strong personality, and he had gone out of that house by natural means, whether voluntarily or not.

That is, of course, if he had gone out of the house.

Wise was inclined to think he had, but Rodney Granniss still held to the possibility of some concealed room, – perhaps a dungeon, where the mysterious disappearances could be compassed.

Wise paid no attention to Granniss’ opinions, not from any ill-will toward the young man, but because he had concluded to his own satisfaction that there was really no space for a concealed room in the house.

North had come up there for the purpose of helping him look for such a matter, and North had agreed that it could not be.

And now North himself was gone, – carried off, – yet the mere phrase, “carried off” seemed to Wise incongruous.

Could North have been carried off without making noise enough to rouse some of the sleeping household? It was incredible!

Before discussing the matter with Minna, or calling the local police again, Wise went to the bedroom North had occupied and locked himself in.

“If I can’t tell,” he said to himself, “whether that man was kidnapped or whether he sneaked himself off – yet why would he do such a thing as that? My desperation over this puzzle is leading my mind astray.”

Carefully, without touching a thing, Wise considered the state of the room.

The bed had been occupied, and, it was quite evident, had been hastily quitted. The coverings were tossed back over the footboard, and the pillow still bore the impress of a head.

On the dresser lay North’s collar and tie, and beneath the pillow, Wise discovered his watch and a handkerchief.

Clearly, the man had gone, after a hasty and incomplete toilette.

On the small table, lay some sheets of paper and a pencil.

These papers were some that they had used the night before drawing plans and making measurements of the house.

Scanning the papers, Wise was startled to see a scrawled message on the corner of a sheet. It read:

They’ve got me. L. N.

It had been so hastily jotted down as to be almost illegible.

Had North managed to scribble it while his captor or captors looked another way? It was all too unbelievable!

The thought would creep in that North was implicated in the mystery himself. Yet that was quite as unbelievable as the rest of it, – if not more so.

Wise turned his attention to the disordered furniture.

The overturned chair was not broken, but a glass tumbler was. Evidently it had been knocked off the night stand. The rug was in wrinkles and one window curtain had been partly pulled from its rod.

The scratches on the hardwood floor were apparently made by scuffling feet, but of that Wise could not be sure.

In fine, the whole disorder of the room could have been made by struggling men, or could have been faked by any one desiring to produce that effect.

“Yet I’ve no reason to think North faked it,” Wise told himself frankly, “except that that would be an easy way out of it for me! And that message he left looks genuine, – and his watch is a valuable one, – oh, Lord, I am up against it!”

He went downstairs, and learned that Lawrence North’s straw hat still hung on the hall rack. The man must have been forcibly carried off. He couldn’t have walked out without collar, tie or hat! Moreover, the doors were all locked.

It still was necessary to assume a secret exit from the house.

Wise inclined to the hinged door frame, or window frame, but his most careful search failed to reveal any such. He determined to get an expert carpenter to look over the house, feeling that such would be better than an architect.

Crestfallen, dispirited and utterly nonplussed, Wise sat down in the library to think it over.

First, the authorities must be told of North’s disappearance, and all that, but those things he left to Granniss. The mystery was his province.

Acting on a sudden impulse, Wise started off at once for North’s home. This was a good-looking bungalow, of artistic effects and quiet unpretentious charm.

His knock brought the grumpy Joe Mills to the door.

“Whatcha want?” was his surly greeting.

“As I’m here on an important matter, I’ll come inside,” Wise said, and entered the little living-room.

“Whatcha doin’ here?” Mills continued. “Where’s Mr North?”

“I don’t know where he is. Isn’t he here?”

“Why no, – he stayed up to Headland House last night. Ain’t you the detective from there?”

“Yes, I am. And Mr North left Headland House, – er, – before breakfast this morning. Didn’t he come home?”

“No, he didn’t. Leastways, I ain’t seen him. An’ I’ve got work to do, – so you can leave as soon as you like.”

“Look here, my man, keep a civil tongue in your head. Mr North has disappeared, – ”

“Well, he’s got a right to disappear if he likes, – ain’t he?”

“But he went off – ”

“I don’t care how he went off. It’s nothin’ to me. An’ I’ve got my work to do. Now you vamoose.”

“Not yet,” said Wise coolly, and began to look about the house. “There’s no use in taking that attitude, Mr Mills, the authorities of the village and of the county will be here shortly, – unless Mr North turns up, which I don’t think he will. Now, I’m going to do a little looking about on my own.”

Wise set to work, and went swiftly over the house, from room to room. He found nothing that gave him any clue to North’s disappearance nor anything that gave him much information as to North’s private life.

Even an examination of the letters and notes in the small desk showed only some bills, some invitations, some circulars, that meant nothing to the detective.

He noted some memoranda in Lawrence North’s handwriting and saw that it corresponded with the note left for him.

Sheriff Potter came in while he was there, but the conversation between the two men was of little interest to either.

It was all so hopeless, it seemed to Wise, – and, so blankly mysterious it seemed to Potter.

Claire Blackwood came over from her home, and Wise turned to her as to a friend.

“Do tell me something about this man, North, Mrs Blackwood,” he said. “Have you known him long?”

“Only through this summer,” she replied. “He’s a New Yorker, but I don’t know much else about him.”

“What’s his business?”

“I’m not sure, but I think he’s a real estate man. He’s spending two months here, and he rented this bungalow furnished. You see, Mr Wise, the people of this colony are a sort of lawless, happy-go-lucky set. I mean if we like any one, we don’t bother to inquire into their antecedents or their social standing.”

“Is North married?”

“I don’t think so. At least, I’ve always thought him a bachelor, though nowadays you never can tell. He may have a wife, for all I know.”

“At any rate, Mrs Blackwood, he has most mysteriously disappeared. And I do hope if you know anything – anything at all, about the man, you will tell me. For, I don’t mind admitting I am greatly distressed and disturbed at this new development of the Varian case.”

“You connect Mr North’s disappearance with Betty Varian’s, then?”

“How can I help it? Both vanished from the same house. It proves, of course, that there is a secret exit, but it is strange that such cannot be found.”

“It is disappointing, Mr Wise, to find that such a famous detective as you cannot find a concealed entrance to a country house!”

“You are not more disappointed than I am, at that fact, Mrs Blackwood. I am chagrined, of course, but I am more frankly puzzled. The whole case is so amazing, the evidence so scanty, – clues are non-existent, – what can I do? I feel like saying I was called in too late, – yet, I’m not sure I could have done better had I been here at first. I can’t see where evidence has been destroyed or clues lost. It is all inexplicable.”

“You are delightfully candid and far from bumptious,” she said, smiling at him. “I feared you were of the know-it-all variety, and I see you aren’t.”

“Help me to know it all, Mrs Blackwood,” Wise urged. “I can’t help feeling you know more about Lawrence North than any one else up here. If so, can’t you tell me something of his life?”

“No, truly, Mr Wise, I don’t know any more than I’ve told you. He was up here last year, – this is my first season. But I don’t know of any one up here now, that knows him very well. He is a quiet, reserved sort of man, – and, – as a matter of fact, we are not a gossipy lot.”

Disheartened and disappointed, Wise went back to Headland House only to find that Doctor Varian had arrived during his absence.

The detective was glad to have him to talk to, for it promised at least a fresh viewpoint to be considered.

“I admit, Doctor Varian,” Wise said frankly, as the two confabbed in the Varian library, “I have no theory that will fit this case at all. I have solved many mysteries, I have found many criminals, but never before have I struck a case so absolutely devoid of even an imaginary solution. Granting a criminal that desired to bring disaster to the Varian family, why should he want to abduct Lawrence North?”

“Perhaps North knew something incriminating to him,” suggested the doctor.

“But that’s purely supposition, there’s no fact to prove it, or anything like it. As a start, suppose we assume a kidnapper of Betty Varian. Although, even before that, we have to assume a secret entrance into this house.”

“That, I think, we must assume,” said Varian.

“It seems so, – yet, if you knew how hard I’ve hunted for one! Well, then, assume a kidnapper, who, for the sake of ransom, abducts Betty Varian, – ”

“And kills her father?”

“And kills her father, who interrupted the abduction.”

“Good enough, so far, but what about North?”

“I can’t fit North in, – unless he is in league with the criminal.”

“That’s too absurd. He and my brother weren’t even acquaintances.”

“Oh, I know it’s absurd! But, what isn’t? I can’t see a ray of light! And, then, there’s that awful matter of the maid, Martha!”

“I think, Mr Wise, that since you admit failure, there is nothing for it, but to take Mrs Varian away and give up the case.”

“Leaving Betty to her fate!”

“We can search for the child just as well from Boston or New York as from here.”

“I don’t think so, Doctor. Take Mrs Varian away, if you wish, – and if she will go. I shall stay here and solve this mystery. Because I have failed thus far, is no proof I shall continue to be unsuccessful. Mrs Varian is a rich woman, – I am not a poor man. I shall use such funds as she provides, supplementing them, if necessary, with my own, but I shall find Betty Varian, if she’s alive, – I shall find Lawrence North, – if he is alive, – and I shall discover the murderer or murderers of Frederick Varian and of Martha.”

“You speak confidently, Mr Wise.”

“I do; because I mean to devote my whole soul to this thing. I can’t fail, ultimately, – I can’t!”

The man was so desperate in his determination, so sincere in his intent, that Doctor Varian was impressed, and said heartily, “I believe you will. Now, here’s something I’ve found out. I’ve talked with my brother’s lawyer, and I find there was something in Frederick’s life that he kept secret. I don’t for one minute believe it was anything disgraceful or dishonorable, for I knew my brother too well for that. But it may have been some misfortune, – or even some youthful error, – but whatever it was, it had an effect on his later years. And, there’s that strange matter of the Varian pearls. Those pearls, Mr Wise, are historic. They have never been bequeathed to any one save the oldest son or daughter of a Varian. Now, the fact that Betty and her father sometimes squabbled, is not enough to make my brother leave them to my daughter instead of to his own. Yet I can form no theory to explain the fact that he did do so. I’ve tried to think he was temporarily or hypochondriacally insane, but I can’t reconcile that belief with my knowledge of his physical health and well-being. Then, I’ve wondered if he ever did me a wrong in the past, that I never learned of, and if this was by way of reparation. But that is too unlikely. Again, I’ve thought that there might be some error in the family records, and that I might be the elder son instead of Fred. But I checked it all up, and he was two years my senior. Yet, he told the lawyer, who drew up his will, that justice demanded that the pearls be left to his niece instead of to his daughter. Now, what could he have meant by that?”