“I don’t care whether it’s real or not,” Minna interrupted, excitedly. “I mean I don’t care whether anybody believes it’s real or not. I’m going to answer it at once, and I’m going to agree to everything they say, and I’m not going to tell the police or a detective or anybody,—and I’m going to get Betty back.” Her face was radiant with joy, her eyes shone and she was smiling for the first time since that awful day of the double tragedy. “Now, look here, Mrs Varian,” began Granniss, who was convinced the whole letter was a mere attempt to get money under false pretenses, “you mustn’t throw away a hundred thousand dollars in that fashion!” “Why not? It is a lot of money, but I have the sum and it means getting Betty back! What is any sum of money,—even my whole fortune, against that?” “But it doesn’t surely mean getting her back. If I thought it did I’d feel just as you do about it——” “Oh, it does,—it does!” Minna cried, her face still transfigured with happiness. “I know it,—I feel it—something in my heart tells me that it is true,—and, you see, it explains everything. These people kidnapped Betty,—abducted her, and now they’re holding her for ransom,—and they’ll get it,—and I’ll get Betty! They don’t want her, you see, but they do want the money. And they’ll get it!” “I agree with Mrs Varian,” Claire said, quite convinced by Minna’s confidence in the good faith of the letter writer. “But it’s too absurd!” insisted Rodney. “You know,—Mrs Varian, you must know, that I want to find Betty quite as much as you do,—no, I won’t qualify that statement. I love her as much as you can. But I don’t believe for one minute that that letter is genuine. I mean, I don’t believe the man who wrote it has Betty, or ever saw her! Why, think a minute. Of all the theories regarding Betty’s disappearance, abduction is the least believable. How could any one abduct Betty that day,—how could the kidnapper get into this house, and out again,—with Betty,—when so many people were about, watching?” “I don’t know how it was done,” Minna said, doggedly, “but it’s a chance, and I’m going to take it. You can’t stop me, Rodney. You’ve no authority to say what I shall do with my own money. I’ve a right to try this thing——” “But, oh,” said Claire, “suppose it should be a fake! Not only you’d lose all that money,—but think of your disappointment!” “The disappointment would be no worse than things are at present.” “Oh, yes, it would. If you follow up that letter and pay all that sum, and then get nothing in return, it would just about kill you.” “It would just about kill me not to take the chance,” returned Minna. “Now, I suppose I still have the right to order my own movements. I shall at once send the personal to the Boston paper,—I’ll put it in several, so he’ll be sure to see it,—and then, I’ll await his further advice. Will you send the messages, Rodney, or must I do it myself?”