“I should think they would!” exclaimed Eleanor, earnestly; “I’m ready to leave now! How do you stand it, Betty? I think it’s fearful!”
“Oh, it isn’t the sort of thing you’d like, I know. Put those glasses on that tray, will you, Nell? But I love this wild, craggy place, it’s like an eagle’s eyrie, and I adore the solitude,—especially as there are plenty of people, and a golf club and an artist colony and all sorts of nice things in easy distance.”
“You mean that little village or settlement we came through on the way from the station?”
“Yes; and a few of their choicest inhabitants are coming up this afternoon for our picnic.”
“That sounds better,” Eleanor sighed, “but I’d never want to stay here. Is Rod Grannis here? Is that why you came?”
“Hush, Nell. Don’t mention Rod’s name, at least, not before Father. You see, Dad’s down on him.”
“Down on Rod! Why for?”
“Only because he’s too fond of little Betty.”
“Who is? Rod or your father?”
Betty laughed. “Both of ’em! But, I mean, Dad is down on any young man who’s specially interested in me.”
“Oh, I know. So is my father. I don’t let it bother me. Fathers are all like that. Most of the girls I know say so.”
“Yes, I know it’s a fatherly failing; but Dad is especially rabid on the subject. There you take the basket of cakes and I’ll carry the tray.”
It was nearly five o’clock when the picnic party was finally ready to start for its junketing.
Mrs Blackwood had arrived, bringing her two promised young men, Ted Landon and John Clark.
Rearrayed in picnic garb, the house guests were ready for the fun, and the Frederick Varians were getting together and looking over the baskets of supper.
“If we could only have kept one helper by us,” bemoaned Minna Varian, her speech accompanied by her usual wringing of her distressed hands. “I begged Kelly to stay but he wouldn’t.”
“The circus is here only one day, you know, Mrs Varian,” Landon told her, “and I fancy every servant in Headland Harbor has gone to it. But command me——”
“Indeed, we will,” put in Betty; “carry this, please, and, Uncle Herbert, you take this coffee paraphernalia.”
Divided among the willing hands, the luggage was not too burdensome, and the cavalcade prepared to start.
“No fear of burglars, I take it,” said Herbert, as his brother closed the front door and shook it to be sure it was fastened.
“Not a bit,” and Frederick Varian took up his own baskets. “No one can possibly reach this house, save through that gate down by the lodge. And that is locked. Also the windows and doors of the house are all fastened. So if you people have left jewelry on your dressing tables, don’t be alarmed, you’ll find it there on your return.”
“All aboard!” shouted Landon, and they started, by twos or threes, but in a moment were obliged to walk single file down the steep and narrow path.
“Oh, my heavens!” cried Betty, suddenly, “I must go back! I’ve forgotten my camera. Let me take your key, Father, I’ll run and get it in a minute!”
“I’ll go and get it for you, Betty,” said Varian, setting down his burden.
“No, Dad, you can’t; it’s in a closet, behind a lot of other things, and you’d upset the whole lot into a dreadful mess. I know you!”
“Let me go, Miss Varian,” offered several of the others, but Betty was insistent.
“No one can get it but myself,—at least, not without a lot of delay and trouble. Give me the key, Father, I’ll be right back.”
“But, Betty——”
“Oh, give her the key, Fred!” exclaimed his wife; “don’t torment the child! I believe you enjoy teasing her! There, take the key, Betty, and run along. Hurry, do, for it’s annoying to have to wait for you.”
“Let me go with you,” asked John Clark, but Betty smiled a refusal and ran off alone.
Most of them watched the lithe, slight figure, as she bounded up the rugged, irregular steps, sometimes two of them at a time, and at last they saw her fitting the key into the front door.
She called back a few words, but the distance was too great for them to hear her clearly, although they could see her.
She waved her hand, smilingly, and disappeared inside the house, leaving the door wide open behind her.
“Extraordinary place!” Herbert Varian said, taking in the marvelous crag from this new viewpoint.
“You must see it from the clubhouse,” said Landon; “can’t you all come here tomorrow afternoon, on my invite?”
“We’ll see,” Mrs Varian smiled at him, for it was impossible not to like this frank, good-looking youth.
The conversation was entirely of the wonders and beauties of Headland House, until at last, Mrs Blackwood said, “Isn’t that child gone a long while? I could have found half a dozen cameras by this time!”
“She is a long time,” Frederick Varian said, frowning; “I was just thinking that myself. I think I’ll go after her.”
“No, don’t,” said his wife, nervously, “you’ll get into an argument with her, and never get back! Let her alone,—she’ll be here in a minute.”
But the minutes went by, and Betty didn’t reappear in the open doorway.
“I know what she’s up to,” and Frederick Varian shook his head, in annoyance.
Whereupon Mrs Frederick began to cry.
“Now, Fred, stop,” she said; “Herbert, you go up to the house and tell Betty to come along. If she can’t find her camera, tell her to come without it. I wish we had a megaphone so we could call her. Go on, Herbert.”
“Stay where you are, Herbert,” said his brother. “I shall go. It’s all right, Minna, I won’t tease the child,—I promise you. It’s all right, dear.”
He kissed his wife lightly on the brow, and started off at a swinging pace up the rocky flight of steps.
“I’ll fetch her,” he called back, as he proceeded beyond hearing distance. “Chirk up, Minna, Janet; tell her I shan’t abuse Betty.”
“What does he mean by that?” asked Mrs Herbert of Mrs Frederick, as she repeated the message.
“Oh, nothing,” and Mrs Frederick clasped her hands resignedly. “Only you know how Betty and her father are always more or less at odds. I don’t know why it is,—they’re devoted to each other, yet they’re always quarreling.”
“They don’t mean anything,” and her sister-in-law smiled. “I know them both, and they’re an ideal father and daughter.”
Doctor Herbert Varian stood slightly apart from the rest of the group, his observant eyes taking in all the details of the peculiar situation of his brother’s house. His eye traversed back over the short distance they had already come, and he saw a narrow, winding and exceedingly steep path. At intervals it was a succession of broken, irregular steps, rocky and sharp-edged. Again, it would be a fairly easy, though stony footway. But it led to the house, and had no branch or side track in any direction.
“Everything and everybody that comes to this house has to come by this path?” he demanded.
“Yes,” said Minna Varian, and added, complainingly, “a most disagreeable arrangement. All the servants and tradespeople have to use it as well as ourselves and our guests.”
“That could be remedied,” suggested Varian, “a branch, say——”
“We’ll never do it,” said Minna, sharply. “I don’t like the place well enough to buy it, though that is what Fred has in mind——”
“No, don’t buy it,” advised her brother-in-law. “I see nothing in its favor except its wonderful beauty and strange, weird charm. That’s a good deal, I admit, but not enough for a comfortable summer home.”
He turned and gazed out over the open sea. From the high headland the view was unsurpassable. The few nearby boats seemed lost in the great expanse of waters. Some chugging motor boats and a dozen or so sailing craft ventured not very far from shore. North, along the Maine coast, he saw only more rocky promontories and rockbound inlets.
Turning slowly toward the South, he saw the graceful curve of Headland Harbor, with its grouped village houses and spreading array of summer cottages.
“I never saw anything finer,” he declared. “I almost think, Minna, after all, you would be wise to buy the place, and then, arrange to make it more getatable. A continuous flight of strong wooden steps——”
“Would spoil the whole thing!” exclaimed Claire Blackwood. “Oh, Doctor Varian, don’t propose anything like that! We Harborers love this place, just as it is, and we would defend it against any such innovations. I think there’s a law about defacing natural scenery.”
“Don’t bother,” said Minna, carelessly; “we’ll never do anything of the sort. I won’t agree to it.”
“That’s right,” said her sister-in-law. “This is no place to bring up Betty. The girl has no real society here, no advantages, no scope. She’ll become a savage——”
“Not Betty,” Minna Varian laughed. “She’s outdoor-loving and all that, but she has nothing of the barbarian in her. I think she’d like to go to a far gayer resort. But her father——”
“Where is her father?” asked Doctor Varian, impatiently. “It will be dark before we get to our picnic. Why don’t they come?”
He gave a loud view-halloo, but only the echoes from the rocky heights answered him.
“I knew it!” and Minna Varian began to wring her hands. “He and Betty are quarreling,—I am sure of it!”
“What do you mean, Min? What’s this quarreling business about?”
“They’ve always done it,—it’s nothing new. They adore each other, but they’re eternally disagreeing and fighting it out. They’re quite capable of forgetting all about us, and arguing out some foolish subject while we sit here waiting for them!”
“I’ll go and stir them up,” the doctor said, starting in the direction of the house.
“Oh, no, Herbert. It’s a hard climb, and you’ve enough walking ahead of you.”
“I’ll go,” and Ted Landon looked inquiringly at Mrs Varian.
“Oh, what’s the use?” she said; “they’ll surely appear in a minute.”
So they all waited a few minutes longer and then Janet Varian spoke up.
“I think it’s a shame to keep us here like this. Go on up to the house, Mr Landon, do. Tell those two foolish people that they must come on or the picnic will proceed without them.”
“All right,” said Ted, and began sprinting over the rocks.
“I’m going, too,” and Claire Blackwood followed Landon.
“We may as well all go, and have our picnic on our own verandah,” said Minna, complainingly, and though Doctor Varian would have preferred that to any further exertions, he did not say so.
“It’s always like this,” Minna’s querulous voice went on; “whenever we start to go anywhere, somebody has to go back for something and they’re so slow and so inconsiderate of other people’s feelings——”
“There they go,” interrupted Doctor Varian as the two latest emissaries went up over the rocks. “Now the house will swallow them up!”
“Oh, Herbert, don’t say such awful things,” wailed Minna; “you sound positively creepy! I have a feeling of fear of that house anyway,—I believe it would like to swallow people up!”
“Ought we to intrude?” Claire Blackwood laughingly asked of Landon, as they neared the house; “if Betty and her father want to quarrel, they ought to be allowed to do so in peace.”
“Oh, well, if they insist, we’ll go away again, and let them have it out comfortably. Queer thing, for Daughter and Dad to make a habit of scrapping!”
“I take Mrs Varian’s statements with a grain of salt,” said Claire, sagely. “She’s not awfully well balanced, that woman, and I doubt if Betty and her father are half as black as they’re painted. Shall we ring the bell or walk right in?”
But this question needed no answer, for as they mounted the steps of the verandah and neared the open front door, they were confronted by the sight of Mr Frederick Varian sprawled at full length on the floor of the hall.
“Oh, heavens, what is the matter?” cried Claire; “the man has had a stroke or something!”
Landon went nearer, and with a grave face, stooped down to the prostrate figure.
“Claire,” he whispered, looking up at her with a white face, “Claire, this man is dead.”
“What? No,—no! it can’t be——”
“Yes, he is,—I’m almost certain,—I don’t think I’d better touch him,—or, should I? It can do no harm to feel for his heart,—no, it is not beating,—what does it mean? Where’s Miss Varian?”
“Think quickly, Mr Landon, what we ought to do.” Claire Blackwood spoke earnestly, and tried to pull herself together. “We must be careful to do the right thing. I should say, before we even think of Miss Betty we should call Doctor Varian up here——”
“The very thing! Will you call him, or shall I?”
Considerately, Landon gave her her choice.
With a shuddering glance at the still figure, Claire said, “You call him, but let me go with you.”
They stepped out on the veranda, and Landon waved his hand at the group of waiting people below him.
Then he beckoned, but no one definitely responded.
“I’ll have to shout,” Ted said, with a regretful look. “Somehow I hate to,——” the presence of death seemed to restrain him.
But of necessity, he called out, “Doctor Varian,—come here.”
The distance was almost too far for his voice to carry, but because of his imperative gestures, Herbert Varian said: “Guess I’ll have to go. Lord! What can be the trick they’re trying to cut up? I vow I won’t come back here! I’ll eat my picnic in your dining-room, Minna.”
“As you like,” she returned, indifferently. “I hate picnics, anyway. But for goodness’ sake, Herbert, do one thing or the other. If you’d really rather not go to the woods, take your baskets, and we’ll all go back to the house. It’s getting late, anyway.”
“Wait a bit,” counseled the doctor. “You people stay here, till I go up to the house, and see what’s doing. Then if I beckon you, come along back, all of you. If I don’t break my neck getting up there!”
“Don’t go, Father,” begged Eleanor; “let me go. What in the world can they want of you?”
“No,—I’ll go. I suppose there’s a leak in the pipes or something.”
Herbert Varian went off at a gait that belied his recalcitrant attitude, and as he neared the house, he could see the white faces and grave air of the two that awaited him.
“What’s the great idea?” he called out, cheerily.
“A serious matter, Doctor Varian,” replied Landon. “An accident, or sudden illness——”
“No!” the doctor took the remaining steps at a bound. “Who?”
For answer, Landon conducted him inside the hall, and in an instant Varian was on his knees beside the stricken man.
“My God!” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “Frederick’s dead!”
“A stroke?” asked Landon, while Claire Blackwood stood by, unable to speak at all.
“No, man, no! Shot! See the blood,—shot through the heart. What does it—what can it mean? Where’s Betty?”
“We don’t know,” Claire spoke now. “Doctor Varian, are you sure he’s dead? Can nothing be done to save him?”
“Nothing. He died almost instantly, from internal hemorrhage. But how unbelievable! How impossible!”
“Who shot him?” Landon burst out, impetuously; “or,—is it suicide?”
“Where’s the pistol?” said the doctor, looking about.
Both men searched, Landon trying to overcome his repugnance to such close association with the dead, but no weapon of any sort could be found.
“I—I can’t see it,——” Varian wiped his perspiring brow. “I can’t see any solution. But, this won’t do. We must get the others up here. Oh, heavens, what shall we do with Minna?”
“Let me go down, and take her home with me,” suggested Claire Blackwood, eager to do anything that might help or ease the coming disclosure of the tragedy.
“Oh, I don’t know,——” demurred Varian. “You see, she’s got to know,—of course, she must be told at once,—and then,—she’ll have to look after Betty,—where is the child? Anyway, my wife is a tower of strength,—she’ll be able to manage Mrs Varian,—even if she has violent hysterics,—which, of course, she will!”
“Command me, Doctor Varian,” said Landon. “I will do whatever you advise.”
“All right; I’ll be glad of your assistance. Suppose you go back to the people down there on the rocks, and then,—let me see,—suppose you tell my wife first what has happened; then, ask her to break the news to Mrs Varian,—she’ll know how best to do it. Then,—oh, Lord,—I don’t know what then! They’ll have to come back here,—I suppose,—what else can they do? I don’t know, Mrs Blackwood, but your idea of taking Mrs Varian away with you is a good one. If she’ll go.”
“She won’t go,” said Claire, decidedly, “if she knows the truth. If I take her, it’ll have to be on some false pretense,——”
“Won’t do,” said Varian, briefly. “We’ve got no right to keep her in ignorance of her husband’s death. No; she must be told. That girl of mine, too,—Eleanor, she hasn’t her mother’s poise,—she’s likely to go to pieces,—always does, in the presence of death. Oh, what a moil!”
“Here’s another thing,” said Landon, a little hesitantly. “What about the authorities?”
“Yes,—yes,——” the doctor spoke impatiently, “I thought of that,—who are they, in this God-forsaken place? Town Constable, I suppose.”
“I don’t know myself,” said Landon. “County Sheriff, more likely. But Clark’s a good, sensible sort. Say we send him down to the village——”
“Oh, must it be known down there right away?” cried Claire. “Before even Mrs Varian is told! Or Betty. Where is Betty?”
“Betty is somewhere in the house,” said Doctor Varian in a low voice. “We know that. Now, let that question rest, till we decide on our first move. I think, Landon, you’d better do as I said. Go and tell my wife, and, while she’s telling Mrs Varian and my daughter, Eleanor, you can take Mr Clark aside and tell him. Then,—then, I think, you’d all better come back here to the house. We’ll send Clark on that errand later,—or, we can telephone.”
Landon started on his difficult descent and on his even more difficult errand.
“Can’t you,—can’t you put Mr Varian somewhere—somewhere——“ Claire began, incoherently.
“I’m not supposed to move a body until the authorities give permission,” said Doctor Varian, slowly. “It would seem to me, that in this very peculiar and unusual case, that I might,—but, that’s just it. I’ve been thinking,—and the very mysteriousness of this thing, makes it most necessary for me to be unusually circumspect. Why, Mrs Blackwood, have you any idea what we have ahead of us? I can’t think this mystery will be simple or easily explained. I don’t——”
“What do you think——”
“I don’t dare think! Isn’t there a phrase, ‘that way madness lies’? Well, it recurs to me when I let myself think! No,—I won’t think,—and I beg of you, don’t question me! I’m not a hysterical woman,—but there are times when a man feels as if hysterics might be a relief!”
“Then let’s not think,——” said Claire, tactfully, “but let me try to be helpful. If Mrs Varian is coming here,—do you advise that we—cover—Mr Varian with——”
“With a sheet, I suppose,—do you know where to find one?”
“No, I’ve never been upstairs,—and then, after all, isn’t a sheet even more gruesome than the sight as it is at present? How about a dark cover?”
“Very well,—find one.” The Doctor spoke absorbedly, uncaring.
Glancing about, Claire noticed a folded steamer rug, on the end of the big davenport in the hall, and fetching that, she laid it lightly over the still form.
“Now, about Betty,——” said the doctor, coming out of his brown study. “She is in the house,—probably hiding,—from fear,——”
“Oh, do you think that? Then let us find her!”
“We can’t both go. Will you remain here and meet the others or shall I stay here while you go to look for the girl?”
Claire Blackwood pondered. Either suggestion was too hard for her to accept.
“I can’t,——” she said, at last. “I’m a coward, I suppose,—but I can’t search this great, empty house,—for Betty. And, if she were in it, she would surely come here to us,——”
Doctor Varian looked at her.
“Then I’ll go,” he said, simply. “You stay here.”
“No!” Claire grasped his arm. “I can’t do that either. Oh, Doctor Varian, stay here with me! Think,—these are not my people,—I’m sympathetic, of course, but, I’m terrified,—I’m afraid——”
“There’s nothing to fear.”
“I can’t help that,—I won’t stay here alone. If you leave me, I shall run down the path to meet them.”
“Then I’ll have to stay here. Very well, Mrs Blackwood, they’ll arrive in a few moments,—we’ll wait for them together.”
And then Varian again fell to ruminating, and Claire Blackwood, sick with her own thoughts, said no word.
At last they heard footsteps, and looked out to see the little procession headed by the two sisters-in-law.
Janet Varian was half supporting Minna, but her help was not greatly needed, for the very violence of Minna’s grief and fright gave her a sort of supernormal strength and she walked uprightly and swiftly.
“Where’s Frederick?” she demanded, in a shrill voice as she came up the steps,—“and where’s Betty? Where’s my child?”
Her voice rose to a shriek on the last words, and Doctor Varian took her by the arm, giving her his undivided attention.
“Be careful now, Minna,” he said, kindly but decidedly; “don’t lose your grip. You’ve a big trouble to face,—and do try, dear, to meet it bravely.”
“I’m brave enough, Herbert, don’t worry about that. Where’s Fred, I say?”
“Here,” was the brief reply, and Varian led her to her husband’s body.
As he had fully expected, she went into violent hysterics. She cried, she screamed, then her voice subsided to a sort of low, dismal wailing, only to break out afresh with renewed shrieks.
“Perhaps it’s better that she should do this, than to control herself,” the Doctor said; “she’ll soon exhaust herself at this rate, and may in that way become more tractable. I wish we could get her to bed.”
“We can,” responded his wife, promptly. “I’ll look after that. Give a look at Eleanor, Herbert.”
The harassed doctor turned his attention to his daughter, who was controlling herself, but who was trembling piteously.
“Good girl,” said her father, taking her in his arms. “Buck up, Nell, dear. Dad’s got a whole lot on his shoulders, and my, how it will help if you don’t keel over!”
“I won’t,” and Eleanor tried to smile.
Claire Blackwood approached the pair.
“Doctor Varian,” she said, “suppose I take your daughter home with me for the night,—or longer, if she’ll stay. It might relieve you and your wife of a little care, and I’ll be good to her, I promise you. And, if I may, I’d like to go now. I can’t be of any service here, can I? And as Miss Eleanor can’t either, what do you think of our going now?”
“A very good idea, Mrs Blackwood,” and the doctor’s face showed grateful appreciation. “Take one of the young men with you, and leave the other here to help me.”
“We’ll take John Clark,” Claire decided, “and Ted Landon will, I know, be glad to stand by you.”
The three departed, and then the sisters-in-law left the room and went upstairs, Minna making no resistance to Janet’s suggestions.
Left alone with the dead, Doctor Varian and young Landon looked at each other.
“What does it all mean?” asked the younger man, a look of absolute bewilderment on his face.
“I can’t make it out,” returned the other, slowly. “But it’s a pretty awful situation. Now the women are gone, I’ll speak out the thing that troubles me most. Where’s Betty?”
“Who? Miss Varian? Why, yes, where is she? She came for her camera, you know. She—why, she must be in the house.”
“She must be,—that is,—I can’t see any alternative. I understand there’s no way out of this house, save down the path we took.”
“No other, sir.”
“Then if the girl’s in the house,—she must be found.”
“Yes,——” and Landon saw the terrible fear in the other’s eyes, and his own glance responded. “Shall we search the rooms?”
“That must be done. Now, I’m not willing to leave the body of my brother unattended. Will you watch by it, while I run over the house, or the other way about?”
“I’ll do as you prefer I should, Doctor Varian,—but if you give me a choice, I’ll stay here. I’ve never been in the house before, and I don’t know the rooms. However, I want to be frank,—and, the truth is, I’d rather not make that search,—even if I did know the rooms.”
“I understand, Mr Landon, and I don’t blame you. I’ve never been in the house before either,—and I don’t at all like the idea of the search, but it must be made,—and made at once, and it’s my place to do it. So, then, if you’ll remain here, I’ll go the rounds.”
Ted Landon nodded silently, and sat down to begin the vigil he had been asked to keep.
Herbert Varian went first upstairs to Minna’s room, and opening the door softly, discovered the widow was lying quietly on her bed. Janet, sitting by, placed a warning forefinger against her lip, and seeing that the patient was quiet, Varian noiselessly closed the door and tiptoed away.
He stood a moment in the second story hall, looking upward at a closed door, to which a narrow and winding staircase would take him.
Should he go up there,—or search the two lower stories first? He looked out of a window at the foot of the little stair.
It gave West, and afforded no view of the sea. But the wild and inaccessible rocks which he saw, proved to him finally that there was no way of approach to this lonely house, save by that one and only path he had already climbed. He sighed, for this dashed his last hope that Betty might have left the house on some errand or some escapade before her father had reached it.
With vague forebodings and a horrible sinking at his heart, he began to ascend the turret stair.
Doctor Herbert Varian was a man accustomed to responsibilities; more, he was accustomed to the responsibilities of other people as well as his own. Yet it seemed to him that the position in which he now found himself was more appalling than anything he had ever before experienced, and that it was liable to grow worse rather than better with successive developments.
Varian had what has been called “the leaping mind,” and without being unduly apprehensive, he saw trouble ahead, such as he shuddered to think about. His brother dead, there was the hysterical widow to be cared for. And Betty in hiding——
He paused, his hand on the latch of the door at the top of the stair.
Then, squaring his shoulders, he shook off his hesitation and opened the door.
He found himself in a small turret room, from which he went on to other rooms on that floor. They were, for the most part, quite evidently unoccupied bedrooms, but two gave signs of being in use by servants.
Varian paid little heed to his surroundings, but went rapidly about hunting for the missing girl.
“Betty,——” he called, softly; “Betty, dear, where are you? Don’t be afraid,—Uncle Herbert will take care of you. Come, Betty, come out of hiding.”
But there was no answer to his calls. He flung open cupboard doors, he peered into dark corners and alcoves, but he saw no trace of any one, nor heard any sound.
Two other tiny staircases led up to higher turrets, but these were empty, and search as he would he found no Betty, nor any trace of her.
Unwilling to waste what might be valuable time, Doctor Varian went downstairs again.
Then, one after another, he visited all the rooms on the second floor but found no sign of his niece.
He went again to the room where the women were and beckoned his wife outside.
“Minna is asleep?” he asked, in a whisper.
“Yes,” Janet replied, “but, of course, only as an effect of that strong opiate you gave her. She tosses and moans,—but, yes, she is asleep.”
“I dread her waking. Whatarewe to do with her? And, Janet, where is Betty? I’ve been all over these upper floors,—and now I’ll tackle the rooms downstairs, and the cellar. The girl must be found——”
“Herbert! Did you ever know such a fearful situation? And—as to—Frederick—don’t you have to——”
“Yes, yes, of course; the authorities must be called in. Don’t think I haven’t realized that. But first of all we must find Betty—dead or alive!”
“Don’t say that!” Janet clutched at his arm. “I can’t bear any more horrors.”
“Poor girl,—you may have to. Brace up, dear, I’ve all I can do to——”
“Of course you have,” his wife kissed him tenderly. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t add to your burdens, and I will help all I can. Thank heaven that kind woman took Eleanor away with her.”
“Yes; but I daresay we ought to have kept them all here. There’s crime to be considered, and——”
“Never mind, they’re gone,—and I’m glad of it. You can get them back when necessary.”
“But it’s a mystery,—oh, what shall I do first? I never felt so absolutely unable to cope with a situation. But the first thing is to hunt further for Betty.”
Pursuant of his clearest duty, Doctor Varian went on through the yet unsearched rooms, on to the kitchen, and on down to the cellar. He made a hasty but careful search, flinging open closets, cupboards and storerooms, and returned at last to the hall where Ted Landon sat with folded arms, keeping his lonely vigil.
“I can’t imagine where Betty can be,” and Varian sank wearily into a chair.
“She must be in the house,” said Landon, wonderingly, “for there’s no way out, except down the path where we all were.”
“There’s a back door, I suppose.”
“I mean no way off the premises. Yes, there must be a back door—you know I’ve never been in this house before.”
“No; well, look here, Landon; the authorities must be notified; the local doctor ought to be called in,—and all that. But first, I want to find Betty. Suppose I stay here,—I’m—I admit I’m pretty tired,—and you take a look out around the back door, and kitchen porch. By the way, the servants will be coming home soon——”
“No, they were to stay out for the evening, I think Mrs Varian said.”
“But those people who went back to the village will, of course, tell of the matter, and soon we’ll have all kinds of curious visitors.”
“All right, Doctor Varian, I’ll do just what you say.”
The younger man went on his errand, and going through the kitchen, found the back porch. To reach it he had to unlock the outside door, thus proving to his own satisfaction that Betty had not gone out that way.
But he went out and looked about. He saw nothing indicative. The porch was pleasant and in neat order. A knitting-bag and a much be-thumbed novel were evidently the property of the cook or waitress, and an old cap on a nail was, doubtless, the butler’s.
He took pains to ascertain that there was no path or road that led down to the gate but the path that also went from the front door, and which he had been on when Betty returned to the house.
He had seen her enter the house, had seen her father go in a few moments later, now where was the girl?
Back to the kitchen Landon went, and in the middle of the floor, he noticed a yellow cushion. It was a satin covered, embroidered affair, probably, he thought, a sofa cushion, or hammock pillow, but it seemed too elaborate for a servant’s cushion. Surely it belonged to the family.
The kitchen was in tidy order, save for a tray of used glasses and empty plates which was on a table.
Landon picked up the pillow,—and then, on second thoughts, laid it back where he had found it. It might be evidence.
An open door showed the cellar stairs. Conquering a strong disinclination, Landon went down. The cellar was large, and seemed to have various rooms and bins, and some locked cupboards. But there was nothing sinister, the rooms were for the most part fairly light, and the air was good.
Remembering that Doctor Varian had already searched down there for Betty, Landon merely went over the same ground, and returned with the news of his unsuccessful search.
“No way out?” queried the doctor, briefly.
“None, except by passing the very spot where we all were when Betty ran back to the house.”
“Where is she, Landon?”
The two men stared at each other, both absolutely at a loss to answer the question.
“Well,” and Varian pulled himself together, “this won’t do. It’s a case for the police,—how shall we get at them?”
“I don’t know anything about the police, but if you telephone the inn or the clubhouse they’ll tell you. The local doctor is Merritt,—I know him. But he couldn’t do anything. Why call him when you’re here?”
“It’s customary, I think. You call Merritt, will you, and then I’ll speak to the innkeeper.”
The telephoning was just about completed, when a fearful scream from upstairs announced the fact that Minna Varian had awakened from her opiate sleep and had returned to a realization of her troubles.
Slowly Doctor Varian rose and went up the stairs.
He entered the bedroom to find Minna sitting up in bed, wild-eyed and struggling to get up, while Janet urged her to lie still.
“Lie still!” she screamed, “I will not. Come here, Herbert. Tell me,—where is my child? Why is Betty not here? Is she dead, too? Tell me, I say!”
“Yes, Minna,” Varian returned, quietly, “I will tell you all I can. I do not know where Betty is, but we’ve no reason to think she is dead——”
“Then why doesn’t she come to me? Why doesn’t Fred come? Oh,—Fred is dead,—isn’t he?”
And then the poor woman went into violent hysterics, now shrieking like a maniac and now moaning piteously, like some hurt animal.
“The first thing to do,” said Doctor Varian, decidedly, “is to get a nurse for Minna.”
“No,” demurred his wife, “not tonight, anyway. I’ll take care of her, and there will be some maid servant who can help me. There was a nice looking waitress among those who went off this afternoon.”
“The servants will surely return as soon as they hear the news,” Varian said, and then he gave all his attention to calming his patient.
Again he placed her under the influence of a powerful opiate, and by the time she was unconscious, the local doctor had come.
Varian went down to find Doctor Merritt examining the body of his brother.
The two medical men met courteously, the local doctor assuming an important air, principally because he considered the other his superior.
“Terrible thing, Doctor Varian,” Merritt said; “death practically instantaneous.”
“Practically,” returned the other. “May have lived a few moments, but unconscious at once. You know the sheriff?”
“Yes; Potter. He’ll be along soon. He’s a shrewd one,—but,—my heavens! Who did this thing?”
Doctor Merritt’s formality gave way before his irrepressible curiosity. He looked from Doctor Varian to Ted Landon and back again, with an exasperated air of resentment at being told so little.
“We don’t know, Doctor Merritt,” Landon said, as the other doctor said nothing. “We’ve no idea.”
“No idea! A man shot and killed in this lonely, isolated house and you don’t know who did it? What do you mean?”
In a few words Varian detailed the circumstances, and added, “We don’t know where Miss Varian is.”
“Disappeared! Then she must have shot her father——”
“Oh, no!” interrupted Landon, “don’t say such an absurd thing!”
“What else is there to say?” demanded Merritt. “You say there was nobody in the house but those two people. Now, one is here dead, and the other is missing. What else can be said?”
“Don’t accuse a defenseless girl,——” advised Varian. “Betty must be found, of course. But I don’t for a minute believe she shot her father.”
“Where’s the gun?” asked Doctor Merritt.
“Hasn’t been found,” returned Varian, briefly. “Mrs Varian, my brother’s wife, is hysterical. I’ve been obliged to quiet her by opiates. Doctor Merritt, this is by no means a simple case. I hope your sheriff is a man of brains and experience. It’s going to call for wise and competent handling.”
“Potter is experienced enough. Been sheriff for years. But as to brains, he isn’t overburdened with them. Still, he’s got good horse sense.”