“Yes; there were several beads found in the kitchen that have been identified as hers.” “Then the way in must be connected with the kitchen,” North remarked. “Perhaps, but not necessarily.” “It’s a dark night, Mr North,” Rodney Granniss said, hospitably. “Won’t you spend the night here? We can give you a room.” After a polite demurrer, North accepted the invitation. The evening was spent in further and repeated discussion of the known facts and the surmised possibilities of the mystery, and then, both the detective and Granniss went about locking up the house against further marauders, and they all retired. And the next morning they found that Lawrence North had disappeared! His room showed signs of a struggle. A chair was overturned, a rug awry and deep scratches on the shining floor proved a scuffle of some sort. “Another kidnapping case!” Granniss exclaimed. “Must have been a husky chap that got the better of North! Could there have been two against him? He’s a powerful fighter!” “Search the house,” said Wise, briefly, “and keep everybody out of North’s bedroom. I’ll lock it and take the key myself. Now look for him. Is he given to practical joking?” But no amount of searching disclosed Lawrence North, or any sign of him, dead or alive. And the locked doors and windows were undisturbed. “He certainly didn’t leave of his own accord,” said Granniss; “he couldn’t have locked the doors behind him.” “He was carried off,” cried Minna, “just as Betty was! Oh, who of us is safe now?” CHAPTER XIII Where is North? Pennington Wise was at his wits’ end. His wits were of the finest type and had always stood him in good stead; but he had reached their limit, at least regarding this present case. Baffling was too mild a word for it. Uncanny it was not, for there was no hint or evidence of anything supernatural in the taking off of Lawrence North. He was a big, strong personality, and he had gone out of that house by natural means, whether voluntarily or not. That is, of course, if he _had_ gone out of the house. Wise was inclined to think he had, but Rodney Granniss still held to the possibility of some concealed room,—perhaps a dungeon, where the mysterious disappearances could be compassed. Wise paid no attention to Granniss’ opinions, not from any ill-will toward the young man, but because he had concluded to his own satisfaction that there was really no space for a concealed room in the house. North had come up there for the purpose of helping him look for such a matter, and North had agreed that it could not be. And now North himself was gone,—carried off,—yet the mere phrase, “carried off” seemed to Wise incongruous. Could North have been carried off without making noise enough to rouse some of the sleeping household? It was incredible!