Minna had gone to her room, and Rodney was reading the mail. Wise and Zizi were in the hall, sitting on the sofa with the yellow pillows. “This figures in it,” Zizi said, patting the yellow pillow that had held the little hairpin. “As how?” “Find that secret entrance first,” she said, drawing her pretty brows together. “That will explain ’most everything. And, Penny, it isn’t a secret passage, as they call it. It’s just a concealed entrance.” “And through the cellar,—for you know, there was cellar dust on the library floor,—near the safe.” “That only proved the man had been down cellar,—hiding probably until the time was ripe. I’ve scoured that cellar myself.” “So have I, Zizi, and there’s not a loose stone in its walls or a trap in its floor,—of that I’m certain.” “I’m sure of that, too; and Penny, I even went down the well.” “You did! You little rascal. They told me Dunn went down and examined that.” “Well, I had to go, too. It wasn’t difficult,—the stone sides are easy to climb up and down. Not very slippery, either. But dirty! My, I ruined one of my pet dresses. Yet there was no hole in the old well sides. No missing stone or anything suspicious. And that settles the cellar!” “I don’t think the entrance is through the cellar. I incline more to the idea of a false door frame,—you know, the frame and all on hinges. Then, locking would not affect the opening of the whole affair.” “That’s all right,—but, which door?” “There are only two. I’ve examined them both. It may be a window.” “Get friend North to confab with you. You’re clever enough, Penny, but you’re not a real architect. Mr North may have some suggestions to make, that with your ingenuity may work it out.” Lawrence North arrived and with him came Claire Blackwood. The latter was urged to the visit largely by curiosity to learn how things were going, and also by a desire to renew her expressions of sympathy and hope to Mrs Varian. Zizi managed to get a few words alone with Claire. “Tell me about this Eleanor,” the girl said. “I feel sure a lot hinges on that peculiar matter of the pearls. Is Eleanor a scheming sort?” “Oh, no!” exclaimed Mrs Blackwood. “She is a dear girl,—very young, and of a simple, charming nature. She was devoted to her cousin, and had no thought of the family pearls ever being hers. Don’t for a moment think of Eleanor Varian as capable of the slightest thought of disloyalty, much less of envy or covetousness.” “Well, I just wanted to know,” said Zizi, with her winning, confidential smile. “What about her parents? Could her mother have influenced Mr Frederick Varian’s mind against his own daughter?” “No, indeed! Nor Doctor Varian either! Why, they’re the best and finest kind of people, all of them. Whatever the explanation of those pearls being left away from Betty, it was not due to any maneuvering on the part of Eleanor or her parents! Of that you may be sure!”