“Yes; I know it’s almost incredible,—but what idea isn’t? Say Mr Varian went suddenly insane,—and I can’t think of any other way,—and attacked Betty with a revolver. Say, trying to protect herself, it went off and killed him,—perhaps the weapon was in his hands, perhaps in hers,—and then, the child, in an agony of fear or remorse, ran away,—I don’t know how she got away,—but, don’t you see, Mrs Blackwood, she must have left the premises somehow,—or——” “Or they would have found her by this time,—yes, of course.” “Now, I’ve offered ten thousand dollars reward for any information that will lead to finding Betty,—dead or alive. Mr Granniss thinks it will bring no results, but I can’t help hoping. And if it doesn’t,—what can I do?” “You’re going to employ a detective, aren’t you? These local authorities are not capable of managing a case like this.” “Yes; Mr Granniss advises a Mr Wise,—but I can’t see what any detective can do. There’s nothing to detect, as I can see.” “That’s just it. We can’t see,—but the trained detective can.” “Here is your mail, Mrs Varian,” said Granniss, coming into the room, “will you run it over?” Minna glanced at the letters, mostly notes of sympathy, or letters of advice from would-be helpful friends, but there was one that caused her to exclaim in amazement. “Oh, Rodney,” she cried, “will you look at this!” So great was her agitation that Claire Blackwood went in search of the nurse, for she feared some emotional outburst beyond her power to control. The disturbing letter was a plain looking affair, on ordinary letter paper, and it read: “Mrs Varian. We have your daughter safe. We are holding her for ransom. Your reward does not tempt us at all but if you are ready to pay one hundred thousand dollars, you may have your child back. If not, you will never see her again. There must be no dickering, no fooling, and, above all, no police interference. I will not go into details now, but if you want to take up with this offer put a personal in any of the large Boston papers, saying, “I agree,” and all directions will be sent to you as to how to proceed. But if you tell the police or allow any detective to know anything about this deal, it is all off. Don’t think you can fool us, we have eyes in the back of our heads and any insincerity or breach of faith on your part will result in sad results to your daughter. To carry this thing through you must trust and obey us implicitly and any lapse will mean far deeper trouble than you are in now.” The letter was not signed, nor was it dated. The postmark was Boston, and it had been mailed the day before. “It’s a fake,” Granniss declared, at once. “I don’t think so,” said Claire Blackwood, “it sounds real to me——”