“Impossible!” cried North. “Mr Varian couldn’t foresee that his daughter would forget her camera, and Miss Betty couldn’t foresee that it would be her father who would come back for her!” “I know it seems that way,” Dunn looked deeply perplexed, “but I can’t get away from the idea of there being some premeditation about the two goings back to that empty house that resulted in a double tragedy.” “Suppose a burglar——” began Claire Blackwood; “suppose he had been concealed in the house before we left to go to the picnic. Suppose when Betty came back unexpectedly, he attacked her, and then, when Mr Varian came——” “But what became of the burglar,—and of Miss Betty?” asked Dunn. “I’ve mulled over the burglar proposition, I’ve imagined him to be one of the servants, but it all comes back to the fact that such an intruder just simply couldn’t get away, and couldn’t get Betty away, dead or alive.” “That’s perfectly true,” Claire agreed. “There’s no way to dispose of an imaginary intruder. But neither is there any way to dispose of Betty. Nothing in this world will make me believe that girl shot her father, but just assuming, for a moment, that she did,—what happened next?” Claire demanded this with the air of an accusing judge. “Why, that’s the only possible theory,” said Dunn. “Say the young lady did shoot her father, then she went some place,—where, we haven’t yet discovered,—and shot herself,—or, is there, alive yet.” “If that’s the case, I’ll find her!” Rodney Granniss burst forth, his strong young face alight with zeal; “I’m going up there at once. Mr Varian didn’t like me, but Mrs Varian does, and maybe I can help her.” “She can’t see you,” Dunn told him. “She’s under the influence of opiates all the time. Doctor Varian keeps her that way.” “She’ll have to come to her senses some time,” said Rod. “I’m going up there any way.” “I’m going with you,” declared Eleanor Varian. “I don’t want to stay here,—forgive me, Mrs Blackwood, you’re kindness itself,—but I want to be where father and mother are. I want to help find Betty, too. I know a lot of places to look——” “You do!” exclaimed Dunn. “Where are they, now?” But all that Eleanor mentioned, Dunn had already searched, and his hopes of the girl’s assistance fell. Still, she might be familiar with Betty’s ways, and might be of some slight use. “Well, Miss Varian, you must do as you think best,” he said; “but I advise you to bide here till the morning, anyway.” “Yes, do, dear,” urged Claire, and Eleanor, remembering the unavoidable climb up the steep rocks, consented. “Tell me one thing, Miss Varian,” said Dunn, suddenly; “were you in the kitchen of the Varian house this afternoon at all?” “Yes, I was; I went out there with Betty to get some cakes and things. Why?” “When you were there, did you notice a yellow sofa pillow out there?” “In the kitchen? No, I did not!” “You know the two yellow cushions that belong on the hall sofa?”