Kitabı oku: «The Vanishing of Betty Varian», sayfa 9
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?”
“I can’t imagine, but I’m glad you have told me these things. For it makes me feel there must be something pretty serious back of all this. You don’t think it could in any way reflect on Mrs Varian?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve talked it over with the lawyer and also with my wife, and we all agree that Minna Varian is a true, sincere and good woman. There is not only no blame or stigma to be attached to her in any way, but whatever was the secret of my brother’s life, his wife knows nothing of it.”
“Yet I can imagine no secret, no incident that would necessitate that strange bequest of the family pearls.”
“Nor can I, except that he might have thought he owed me some reparation for some real or fancied wrong. It must have been to me, for he couldn’t have wronged my daughter in any way. There was no question about the division of my father’s fortune. We were the only children and it was equally shared. The pearls were Frederick’s as he was the oldest child. That’s all there is to the matter, – only it is strange that my brother spoke in the way he did to his lawyer. He seemed really broken up over the business, the lawyer said. And he was deeply moved when he dictated the clause leaving the pearls to Eleanor.”
“Betty is really the child of the Frederick Varians?” Wise asked.
“Oh, yes. Mrs Varian lost her first two babies in infancy, and when the third child was expected, we were all afraid it would not live. But Betty was a healthy baby from the first, and I’ve known her all her life.”
“Her father was as fond of her as her mother was?”
“Yes, – and no. I can’t explain it, Mr Wise, but in my medical practice, I’ve not infrequently found a definite antipathy between a father and a daughter. For no apparent reason, I mean. Well, that condition existed between Frederick Varian and his child. They almost never agreed in their tastes or opinions, and while they were affectionate at times, yet there was friction at other times. Now, Minna and Betty were always congenial, thought alike on all subjects and never had any little squabbles. I’m telling you this in hopes it will help you, though I confess I don’t see how it can.”
“I hope it may, – and at any rate, it is interesting, in view of the strange occurrences up here. You’ve found no papers or letters bearing on this matter among Mr Varian’s effects?”
“No; except a few proofs that he was more or less blackmailed.”
“And you can’t learn by whom?”
“No; there were one or two veiled threats, that might have meant blackmail, and yet might not. I have them safe, but I didn’t bring them up here.”
“It doesn’t matter, such a careful blackmailer as the one we have to deal with, never would write letters that could be traced.”
“And what is to be done in this North matter?”
“First of all, I shall offer a large reward for any word of him. I have faith in offered rewards, if they are large enough. They often tempt accomplices to turn state’s evidence. I’ve already ordered posters and advertisements with portraits of North. My agents will attend to this, and though it may bring no results, yet if it doesn’t, – it will be a hint in another direction.”
“Meaning?”
“That Lawrence North is implicated in the crimes.”
“No, I can’t agree to that. Why the man himself was carried off – ”
“I know, – oh, well, Doctor Varian, first of all, we must find that secret passage. There is one, – we can’t blink that fact. Now, where is it? Think of having a given problem like that, and being unable to solve it! I am so amazed at my own helplessness that I am too stunned to work!”
“Go to it, man, – you’ll find it. Tear the house down, if necessary, but get at it somehow.”
“I shall; I’ve already sent for carpenters to demolish some parts of the house.”
“I wish I could stay up here and see the work progress. You’ll have to find the secret, you know. You can’t help it, if you tear down the whole structure.”
“I don’t mean to do that. I want to continue to live in the house. But some expert carpenters can dig into certain portions of it without making the rest uninhabitable, and that’s what I propose doing.”
“What about finger prints? I thought you detectives set great store by those.”
“Not in a case like this. Suppose we find finger prints, – they’re not likely to be those of any registered criminal. And since this talk with you, I shall turn my investigations in a slightly different channel, anyhow. I must look up Mr Varian’s past life – ”
“Look all you wish, but I tell you now, you’ll find nothing indicative. Whatever secret my brother had, it was not a matter of crime, – or even of lighter wrongdoing. And, if Frederick Varian wanted to keep the matter secret neither you nor any other detective will ever find it out!”
“That may have been true during your brother’s life, Doctor, but now that he can’t longer protect his secret, it must come out.”
“All right, Mr Wise, I truly hope it will. For even if it reflects against my brother’s integrity, it may aid in finding Betty. I don’t believe that girl is dead, – do you?”
“No; I don’t. I believe these letters from the kidnappers are true bills. I believe they have her concealed and confined, and by Heaven, Doctor Varian, I’m going to find her! I know that sounds like mere bluster, but I’ve never totally failed on a case yet, – and this, – the biggest one I’ve ever tackled, shall not be my first failure! I must succeed!”
“If I can help in any way, command me. I’m glad to see you don’t think I’m criminally implicated because of the legacy of the pearls. Eleanor shall never touch them until we’ve positively concluded that Betty is dead. But that’s a small matter. Those pearls have lain undisturbed in safe deposit many years, – they may lie there many years more, – but let the search work go on steadily.”
“You know nothing of North, personally?”
“No; I never met him. Has he no relatives?”
“Haven’t found any yet. But you see, the police don’t hold that it is a criminal case as yet. They say he may have walked out of his own accord.”
“Half dressed, and leaving his watch behind him?”
“And that note to say what had happened! That note rings true, Doctor, and either it is sincere, or North is one of the cleverest scamps I ever met up with!”
“It’s conceivable that he is a scamp, but I can’t see anything that points to it. Why should a perfect stranger to the Varian family cut up such a trick as to come up here and pretend to be kidnapped, – if he wasn’t? It’s too absurd.”
“Everything is too absurd,” said Wise, bitterly.
CHAPTER XIV
A Green Stain
“Tell me more about Betty,” Zizi said, “that is, if you don’t mind talking about her.”
“Oh, no,” Minna returned, “I love to talk about her. It’s the only way I can keep my hope alive!”
Zizi was sitting with Mrs Varian while the nurse went out for a walk. There was a mutual attraction between the two, and the sympathetic dark eyes of the girl rested kindly on the face of the bereaved and suffering mother.
“Tell me about her when she was little. Was she born in New York?”
“No; at the time of her birth, we chanced to be spending a summer up in Vermont, – up in the Green Mountains. I hoped to get home before Betty arrived, but I didn’t, and she was born in a tiny little hospital way up in a Vermont village. However, she was a strong, healthy baby, and has never been ill a day in her life.”
“And she is so pretty and sweet, – I know not only from her picture, but from everything I hear about her. I’m going to find her, Mrs Varian!”
Zizi’s strange little face glowed with determination and she smiled hopefully.
“I don’t doubt your wish to do so, Zizi, dear, but I can’t think you will succeed. I’m so disappointed in Mr Wise’s failure – ”
“He hasn’t failed!” Zizi cried, instantly eager to defend her master. “Don’t say that, – he is baffled, – it’s a most extraordinary case, but he hasn’t failed, – and he won’t fail!”
“But he’s been here a week, and what has he done so far?”
“I’ll tell you what he’s done, Mrs Varian.” Zizi spoke seriously. “We were talking it over this morning, and he’s done this much. He’s discovered, at least to his own conviction, that Betty was really kidnapped. That those letters you have received are from the abductors and that through them we must hope to trace Betty’s present whereabouts. This would not be accomplished by merely following their instructions as to throwing money over the cliff. As you know, Doctor Varian advises strongly against that, – and Mr Wise does, too. But they have learned of some more letters found among your husband’s papers, signed ‘Step,’ and we hope to prove a connection between those and the kidnapper’s letters.”
“What good will that do?” Minna asked, listlessly. “Oh, Zizi, you’re a dear girl, but you’ve no idea what I’m suffering. Nights, as I lie awake in the darkness, I seem to hear my baby Betty calling to me, – I seem to feel her little arms round my neck – somehow my mind goes back to her baby days, more than to her later years.”
“That’s natural, dear, when you’re so anxious and worried about her. But, truly, I believe we’ll get her yet. You see, everything points to the theory that she is alive.”
“I’m so tired of theories, – they don’t help any.”
“Oh, yes, they do, dear. Now, try to get up a little more hope. Take it from me, – you’ll see Betty again! She’ll come dancing in, just as she used to do, – say, Mrs Varian, why did she and her father squabble so?”
“I can’t explain it. I’ve thought over it often, but it seems to me there was no reason for it. He admired Betty, he was proud of her beauty and grace and accomplishments, but there was something in the child that he didn’t like. I hate to say this, but he seemed to have a natural dislike toward her that he honestly tried to overcome, but he utterly failed in the attempt.”
“How very strange!”
“It surely is. I’ve never mentioned it to any one before, but you are so sympathetic, I want to ask you what you think could have been the reason for anything like that?”
“Did Betty feel that way toward him?”
“Oh, no! I mean, not naturally so. But when he would fly at her and scold her for some little, simple thing, of course she flared up and talked back at him. It was only petty bickering, but it was so frequent.”
“Wasn’t Mr Varian pleased when he learned that you expected another child?”
“Yes, he was delighted. He feared it might not live, – as the others hadn’t, but he was pleased beyond words at the prospect, and we both hoped for a healthy baby. He was so careful of me, – so devoted and loving, and so joyful in the anticipation of the new baby.”
“He was with you in Vermont?”
“Oh, yes; we had a cottage, and he stayed there while I was in the hospital during my confinement. The house was near by, and he could come to see me at any time.”
“Well, I can’t understand his turning against her later. Do they look alike?”
“No, – that is, they have similar coloring, but no real resemblance.”
“Betty doesn’t look like you, either?”
“Not specially. Though I can’t see resemblances as some people do. She was – ”
“Is, Mrs Varian!”
“Well, then, Betty is a dear, pretty, sweet-faced girl, healthy and happy, but not remarkable in any way.”
“Did she inherit your disposition or her father’s?”
“Neither particularly. But I don’t think a young girl often shows definite or strong traits of character.”
“Some do,” Zizi said, thoughtfully. “How about talents? I want to find out, you see, more of what Betty is like.”
“She has a little musical talent, a taste for drawing, and a fondness for outdoor sports, – but none of these is marked. I can’t describe the child otherwise than as a natural, normal everyday girl. I adore her, of course, but I am not blind to the fact that she is not a genius in any way.”
“Nor do you want her to be! As you’ve told me of her, she seems to me a darling, and I mean to find her for you, – and for Mr Granniss.”
“Yes, Rodney loves her, and he is as desolate as I am at her loss. Oh, Zizi, have you really any hope, or are you just saying this to comfort me?”
“I really have hope, and more, I have conviction that we will yet have Betty back here. But it is not yet a certainty, and I only can offer you my own opinions. Still, dear, it’s better to hope than to despair, and any day may bring us good news.”
Zizi recounted this whole conversation to Pennington Wise, not so much because she deemed it important, as that he wanted every word she could get, reported to him.
The man was frankly bewildered.
“It’s too ridiculous,” he exclaimed to Zizi, “that I, Pennington Wise, should have a great, a unique mystery, as this one is, – and not be able to make one step of progress toward its solution!”
“‘Step,’” Zizi said, “makes me think of that black-mailing person, Stephen, or whatever his name is. Let’s work from that end.”
“I’ve tried and there’s no place to start from. You see, the letters signed ‘Step’ are as untraceable as the kidnappers’ letters. They’re typed, not on the same machine, but on some equally obscure and unavailable one. It’s impossible to hunt a typewriter, with no suspect and no indication where to look!”
“It would be for an ordinary detective, Penny, but for you – ”
“That’s just it, Ziz. An ordinary detective would say, ‘pooh, of course we can trace that!’ But I’m not an ordinary detective, and my very knowledge and experience prove to me how baffling, – how hopeless – this search is. Sometimes I think Frederick Varian did away with Betty.”
“That’s rubbish!” Zizi said, calmly. “But I do think there was some definite reason for Mr Varian’s attitude toward his daughter.”
“No question of her paternity?”
“Good Lord, no! Minna Varian is the best and sweetest woman in the world! But I’ve a glimmer of a notion that I can’t work out yet, – ”
“Tell me.”
“It’s too vague to put into words.” Zizi knit her heavy eyebrows, and screwed up her red lips.
And then the carpenters came, and the demolition of Headland House began. It was carefully managed; no rooms that the family used were put in disorder, but the kitchen quarters, and the cellar were desperately dug into.
“The kitchen is indicated,” Wise said to Doctor Varian. “For it is clear to my mind that Betty was carried out through it.”
“Through the kitchen?”
“Yes; you see, Doctor, we must reconstruct the matter like this. Betty came back to the house alone. She came in the front door with her father’s key. Now, she must have been attacked or kidnapped then and there. I mean whoever did it, – and we have to assume somebody did do it, – was in the house waiting. Well – say he was, – for the moment. Then, say Betty put up a fight, which of course she would, then she was carried off through the kitchen by means of the secret passage, which we have got to find! She had the yellow pillow in her hands for some reason, – can’t say what – and she dropped it on the kitchen floor, – or maybe the villain used the pillow to stifle the girl’s screams.”
“Go on,” said Doctor Varian, briefly.
“Then, owing to the girl’s struggles, the string of beads round her neck broke, and scattered over the floor.”
“Only part of them.”
“Yes; the others stayed with her, or were picked up by the kidnappers.”
“More than one?”
“I think two. For, when Mr Varian arrived upon the scene, one of them turned on him, – and killed him, – while there must have been another to hold Betty. It is possible there was only one, but I doubt it.”
“And you think the concealed entrance is through the kitchen?”
“That, or the cellar. Anyway, there is one, and it must be found! It was used the night Martha was killed, – it was used the night North disappeared, – why, man, it must be there, – and I must find it!”
“True enough, and I hope you will.”
“Here’s something, Penny,” Zizi said, appearing suddenly at his elbow. “I’ve found a stain on my frock that’s exactly like the one we noticed on poor Martha’s hand.”
“What?”
“Yes, a green stain, – a long swish, as of green paint, – but it isn’t paint.”
Zizi held up a little linen frock that she sometimes wore mornings.
On the side, down near the hem, was a green smear, and it was similar in appearance to the strange mark on the hand of the dead girl.
“Where’d it come from?” asked Wise, shortly.
“I don’t know, but it’s the dress I wore when I was exploring the cellar, and it got pretty dirty.”
“Been washed?”
“No, I shook off and brushed off most of the dirt, but this stain stuck, and wouldn’t brush off. That’s how I noticed it.”
“Coincidence, I’m afraid. Or maybe Martha went down cellar that night for something.”
“But what in the cellar would make a mark like that?”
“Dunno, Ziz. There’s no green paint down there.”
“It isn’t paint, Penny,” Zizi persisted. “It doesn’t smell like paint.”
“What does it smell like?”
“There’s no odor to it, that I can notice. But it’s a clue.”
“So’s the yellow pillow, – so are the scattered beads, – so was the footprint of cellar dust on the library floor, – but they’re all blind clues, – they lead nowhere.”
“Penny Wise! what ails you? I never knew you so ready to lie down on a job!”
“No, Zizi, not that. It’s only that I can see how futile and useless all these clues are. We’ve got to get some bigger evidence. In fact, we can do nothing till we find the way the criminal got in and out of this house. Don’t tease me, Zizi, I never was so put about!”
“You must be, when you revert to your old-fashioned phrases!” the girl laughed at him, but there was deepest sympathy in her dark eyes, and an affectionate, brooding glance told of her anxiety for him.
