By the hardest sort of work and with indefatigable perseverance, Granniss had gone from one to another of the various officials, mechanicians and even workmen of the moving picture company he was on the trail of and after maddening delays caused by their lack of method, their careless records and their uncertain memories, he finally found out where the picture of a crowd, in which Betty had appeared, was taken. And then by further and unwearying search, he found an old but strongly built and well guarded house where he had reason to think Betty was imprisoned. Finding this, he didn’t wait for proofs of his belief, but telegraphed for Pennington Wise and Sheriff Potter to come there at once and gain entrance. Rod’s inexperience led him to adopt this course, but it proved a good one, for his telegram reached Wise the day after North’s death, and he hurried off, Potter with him. The house was in Vermont, and while Potter made the necessary arrangements with the local authorities, Wise went on to meet Granniss. “There’s the house,” and Wise saw the rather pleasant-looking old mansion. “I’m dead sure Betty’s in there, but I can’t get entrance, though I’ve tried every possible way.” But the arrival of the police soon effected an entrance, and armed with the knowledge of North’s death as well as more material implements, they all went in. Pretty Betty, as pretty as ever, though pale and thin from worry and fear, ran straight into Granniss’ arms and nestled there in such absolute relief and content, that the other men present turned away from the scene with a choke in their throats. If Granniss hadn’t found her! The news of North’s death brought the jailers to terms at once. They were a man and wife, big, strong people, who were carrying out North’s orders “to be kind and proper to the girl, but not to let her get away.” The moving picture incident had occurred just as Wise had surmised. On her daily walks for exercise, Betty was sometimes allowed to get into a crowd at the studio near by, and frequently she had tried her clever plan of silent talk. But only once had that plan succeeded. Yet once was enough, and Granniss said, “Look here, you people, clear up all the red tape, won’t you? Betty and I want to go home!” “Run along,” said Wise, kindly. “There’s a train in an hour. Skip,—and God bless you!” Their arrival at Headland House, heralded by a telegram to Zizi, had no unduly exciting effects on Minna Varian. Doctor Varian watched her, but as he saw the radiant joy with which she clasped Betty in her arms, he had no fear of the shock of joy proving too much for her. “Oh, Mother,” Betty cried, “don’t let’s talk about it now. I’ll tell you anything you want to know some other time. Now, just let me revel in being here!” Nor did any one bother the poor child save to ask a few important questions.