Again they poured over the plans of the house, and Wise announced his determination of using a pick on one room in the third story that he surmised might be a trifle shorter than its adjacent walls implied. “But it measures up,” North insisted. “Not quite,” Wise declared. “There may be a two foot space in there, which would be enough for a secret passage.” “You’re a persistent one!” North laughed. “All right, Mr Wise, go ahead with your investigation. May I help? I can wield a pick with the best of them!” The detective glanced at the lithe, sinewy form, that seemed to be all muscle and no superfluous flesh, and said, admiringly, “I believe you! But I think Kelly or the chauffeur can do the really hard work.” “No, let me do it,” North offered. “I’d really enjoy it.” So, half amused at his own decision, Wise agreed, and the two went in search of the necessary tools. But the result of their labor was absolutely nothing, beyond an incredible amount of dust and dirt, of lath and plaster, and two very much disheveled men. “Now you must stay to dinner, Mr North,” the detective urged him. “You can put yourself to right enough for our informal meal, and it is too late for you to get to your home by dinner time.” So North stayed, and at dinner they all discussed freely the whole affair. Mrs Varian did not appear at the table, the nurse thinking it was better for her to have no more excitement that day. So Zizi calmly appropriated the chair at the head of the table, and acted the part of hostess prettily and capably. Wise changed his mind about confiding to Lawrence North the matter of the ransom letters, and concluded that in the absence of Mrs Varian the subject might be discussed. “At any rate,” the detective summed up, “we’re in the possession of positive knowledge. We know that Betty was kidnapped,——” “Oh, come now,” North said, thoughtfully, “those letters may be faked,—it seems to me they must be,—by some clever villain who expects to get all that money under false promises. I don’t believe for a minute there is a kidnapper—why would anyone kidnap Betty Varian?” “For the usual kidnapper’s reason,—ransom,” Wise replied. “Well, how did the kidnapper get in?” “Oh, Mr North!” Wise threw up his hands. “This from you! I made up my mind that if one more person said to me, ‘How did the kidnapper get in?’ I’d have him arrested! I don’t _know_ how he got in,—but I’m going to find out!” “I think I won’t assist in the work personally the next time you try,” Lawrence said. “I scarcely could get myself presentable for dinner! But, seriously, Mr Wise, you asked me up here to consult with you. Now, I’m sure we must agree, that there is a way in and out of this house that we don’t know of. And that explains the entrance of the person who killed that poor girl in the kitchen.” “And explains the disappearance of Miss Varian, and the scattering of her beads.” “Beads?” said Lawrence North, interrogatively.