“It proves,” Granniss said, looking up from the plans to the actual walls, “it’s all just as this drawing shows it.” “It certainly is,” agreed Doctor Varian. “There’s no missing bit.” “No,” said Wise, thoughtfully, “there isn’t. And, at least, the carpenters have proved that there is no secret passage built into this house. Yet there is one. I will find it.” For the first time, his words seemed to be spoken with his own conviction of their truth. His voice had a new ring,—his eyes a new brightness, and he seemed suddenly alert and powerful mentally, where, before, his hearers had thought him lacking in energy. “You’ve thought of a new way to go about it?” asked Granniss. “I have! It may not work, but I’ve a new idea, at least. Zizi, let me see that stained dress of yours again.” Obediently Zizi brought her frock with the smear still on its hem. Wise looked at it closely, sniffed it carefully, and gave it back, saying: “If you want to remove that stain, dear, just wash it with soap and water. It’ll come off then. Now, I’m going down to the village, and I may not be back for luncheon. Don’t wait for me.” He went off, and Doctor Varian said to Zizi: “Do you think he really has a new theory, or is he just stalling for time?” “Oh, he’s off on a new tack,” she said, and her eyes shone. “I know him so well, you see, I’m sure he has a new idea and a good one. I’ve never seen him so cast down and so baffled as he has been over this case,—but now that his whole demeanor is changed, he has a fresh start, I know, and he’ll win out yet! I never doubted his success from the beginning,—but the last two days he has been at the lowest ebb of his resources.” “I have to go back to Boston this afternoon,” Doctor Varian went on, “but I’ll be up again in a few days. Meantime, keep me informed, Rodney, of anything new that transpires.” Down in the little village of Headland Harbor, Pennington Wise went first to see Claire Blackwood. She seemed to know more about Lawrence North than any one else did, yet even she knew next to nothing. “No,” she told the detective, “the police haven’t found out anything definite about him yet. Why don’t you take up the search for him, Mr Wise?” “I’ve all I can do searching for Betty Varian,” he returned with a rueful smile. “I’m not employed to hunt up North, and I am to find Miss Varian. But surely the police can get on the track of him,—a man like that can’t drop out of existence.” “That’s just what he’s done, though,” said Claire. “Do you know, Mr Wise, I believe Lawrence North is a bigger man than we supposed. I mean a more important one, than he himself admitted. I think he was up here incognito.” “You mean that North is not his real name?” “I don’t know about that, but I mean that he wanted a rest or wanted to get away from everybody who knew him,—and so he came up here to be by himself. How else explain the fact that they can’t find out anything about him?” “Don’t they know his city address?”