It was quite dark below, and being unable to progress further, Wise backed out of the tunnel, it wasn’t wide enough to turn around in, and reaching the well again, he ascended to the surface. He went to his room, looked with satisfaction on the numerous smears of green and brown that disfigured his suit,—which he had taken care should be an old one. No one knew what he had done, nor did any one know his destination when, half an hour later, he set off for the village. He went to the inn and inquired where he could get the best motor boat that could be hired. A suitable one was found and its owner agreed to take Wise on an exploring expedition at the next low tide. This would not be until the following morning, so the detective went back to Headland House. Then, he concentrated all his efforts and attention on the subject of the moving picture film that had been said to portray Betty Varian. “Rod Granniss vows it was really Betty,” Zizi insisted. “He ought to know,” said Wise. “A man in love with a girl doesn’t mistake her identity. Besides, it’s quite on the cards, Ziz. Say Betty is confined somewhere,—say she is let out for a little exercise in care of a jailer, of course,—say there’s a M. P. contraption taking a picture of a crowd,—they often do,—pick up stray passers-by you know, and say, Betty somehow got into the picture——” “Oh, the jailer, as you call him, wouldn’t let her!” “More likely a woman in charge of her. And, maybe a woman not averse to taking the few dollars those people pay to actors who just make up a crowd. Well, say that happened, and then Betty, not daring to speak aloud, made her lips form the words ‘I am Betty Varian,’ in the hope that among a few thousands of lip readers in the country one might strike twelve!” “Nobody could be so clever as all that, Pen!” “She might be on a chance inspiration. Anyway, how else can you explain it?” “Why, anybody might have said that, who wasn’t Betty at all.” “But why? What would be the sense of it? and why would such a thing occur to anybody but Betty?” “If it’s true,—then you can find her! Surely you can track down a moving picture company!” “Oh, it isn’t that! It’s tracking down the place where Betty is confined,—and—doing it while she is still alive. You see, Zizi, those ransom letters are true bills, and the villains have nearly reached the end of their patience.” “Then why don’t you approve of Mrs Varian’s throwing the money over the cliff?” “I may advise her to do it by Friday night,—if nothing happens in the meantime.” “But look here, Penny,” Zizi said, after a thoughtful moment, “if your theory is the right one, why didn’t Betty scream out, ‘I am Betty Varian!’ and take a chance that somebody in the crowd would rescue her?”