“I can swear to that,” said Rodney Granniss. “I’ve known the Varians for two years, and it’s quite true. Mrs Varian smiled on the attachment between Betty and myself, but Mr Varian most certainly did not!” “What!” exclaimed Dunn, “you one of Miss Betty Varian’s suitors?” “Even so,” said Granniss, calmly. “I knew them in New York. I came up here to be near Betty. And now, Mr Dunn, I want to say that I’m going to do all I can to solve the mystery of Mr Varian’s death, but even more especially am I going to try to find Betty herself. I haven’t been up to Headland House yet, for it—well, it seems awful to go there now that Mr Varian can’t put me out!” “Look here, young man,” Dunn gazed at him curiously, “it doesn’t seem to occur to you that you yourself may be said to have an interest in Mr Varian’s death!” “Meaning that I shot him!” Grannis looked amused. “Well,—if you can tell me how I accomplished it——” “But, my dear sir, somebody accomplished it——” “And it might as well be me! The only trouble with your theory Mr Dunn is, that I didn’t do it. Investigate all you like, you can’t pin the crime, on me.” “And, I suppose you didn’t abduct Miss Betty either?” “I did not!” Granniss looked solemn. “I only wish I had. But I’m going to find her, and I want to start out by being friendly with you, Mr Dunn,—not antagonistic.” “Easy enough to check up your alibi, Mr Granniss,” Dunn said; “no, don’t tell me where you were at the time,—I’ll find out for myself.” “I’ll tell you,” said North, casually. “Mr Granniss was out in his motor boat all the afternoon. I know, because I was out in mine, and I saw him frequently. We were both fishing.” “That’s right,” said Granniss, carelessly, as if his alibi were of small moment to him, as indeed it was. “Now, Mr Dunn, you must have some theory,—or if not a theory, some possible explanation of what occurred. Do give it to us.” “Yes, do,” said North. “I’m fond of detective stories, but I never read one that started out so mysteriously as this.” “I haven’t any theory,” Dunn looked at each in turn, his eyes roving round the room as he talked, “I can’t say as I can even dope out how it _could_ have happened. But here’s what I work on,—motive. That’s the thing to seek first,—motive. We know Mr Varian is dead, we know Miss Varian is missing. That’s all we really know. Now, you can’t deduce anything from those facts alone. So, I say, hunt for a motive. It isn’t likely that Mr Varian had any enemies up here. And if he had, they never’d chosen such an opportunity to shoot him,—for, just think how sudden, how unexpected that opportunity was! Who could have foreseen that Miss Varian would go back to the house for her camera? Who could have foreseen that her father would go back after her? If those goings back were unpremeditated, then no enemy could have been there ready to utilize his chance. If, on the other hand, those goings back were premeditated, then they were arranged by either Miss Betty or her father——”