He pondered over the idea of a secret passage in the house, but it was of small comfort to him. If those other indefatigable workers had not been able to find it, he had no reason to think he could do so. And, besides, it was anything but an attractive picture to imagine Betty, either hidden voluntarily or concealed against her will in some such place. He trudged along up the rocky steps and presented himself at the door of Headland House. Sheriff Potter admitted him, and listened to his story. Then he took him to the library and introduced him to Doctor Varian and his wife. “I am glad to see you,” cried Janet. “Tell me of Eleanor.” “She’s all right,” returned Granniss, cheerfully. “She rather wanted to come up here with me, but they persuaded her to stay over night with Mrs Blackwood.” “Better so,” said Doctor Varian. “Did Dunn learn anything from anybody that you know of?” “No,” said Rodney, “and I fear there’s little to learn from anybody.” “Meaning?” “Meaning that whatever there is to be learned must be found out here in this house,—not from any of those onlookers.” “Sensible talk,” said Doctor Varian, “but how shall we set about it?” “I don’t know. I’m not possessed of what is called detective instinct, nor am I especially clever at solving puzzles. But I have determination, and I’m going to devote my whole time and energy to finding Betty Varian!” “Well said, young man,” put in Potter, who was listening, “but untrained sleuthing is not often productive of great results.” “I don’t mean sleuthing, exactly,” and Granniss looked at him squarely, “I am untrained. But I’m willing to be advised, I’m willing to be dictated to; I only ask to help.” “You’re a brick!” said Janet; “I shouldn’t be surprised if you succeed better than the detectives.” “If so, it will be because of my more personal interest in the case. I ought to tell you, Mrs Varian, that Betty and I are practically engaged. It depended, of course, on her father’s consent——” “And that he refused to give?” asked Potter. “Yes, he did. Which immediately ticketed me as his murderer in the eyes of Mr Dunn. But I’m not a criminal, and I didn’t shoot Mr Varian. I shan’t insist on this point, because you can prove my words true for yourself. Now, I’d like a talk with Mrs Varian,—Betty’s mother,—when such a thing is possible—and convenient.” “I’m not sure but it would be a good thing,” said Doctor Varian, thoughtfully; “when she wakes, Mr Granniss, she will either be hysterical still, and in need of further opiate treatment, or,—and which I think more likely,—she will be calm, composed and alert minded. In the latter case, she might be glad to talk to the man who cares so much for her daughter.” “I hope so; and, in the mean time, what can we do in the matter of finding Betty?”