The Vanishing of Betty Varian

He told briefly but graphically of his exit from the well for a distance, and of his later entrance from the cave and his procedure to the well.

Zizi nodded her bird-like little head, with an air of complete understanding, Doctor Varian was absorbedly interested and profoundly amazed, while Minna looked helplessly ignorant of just what Wise was talking about.

“I can’t understand it,” she said, piteously, “but never mind that, I don’t care, if you say it’s all so. Now, where is Betty?”

“That we don’t know yet,” Wise said, gently, “but we are on the way at last to find out. As I reconstruct the crime, now, that day that Betty returned for her camera, she must have done so under one of two conditions. Either her errand was genuine, in which case, she surprised the criminal here at some nefarious work, – or, which I think far more probable, she came back pretending it was for her camera, but really because of some message or communication which she had received purporting some good to her, but really a ruse of the criminal, who was here for the purpose of abducting the girl.”

“For ransom?” asked Doctor Varian.

“Yes, for ransom. Now, he would naturally attack her in the hall. Perhaps she threw herself on the sofa, clung to it, and was carried off, still holding that yellow pillow, either unconsciously, or he may have used it to stifle her cries. There were two men involved, of that I am sure. For, when they had partly accomplished their purpose, Mr Varian appeared at the door and one of the men had to intercept his entrance.

“I rather fancy the killing of Mr Varian was unintentional, – or possibly, self-defence, for these ruffians did not want to kill their blackmail victim. They may have parleyed with the father to pay them to release the girl, and when he showed fight, as he would, they did also, and as a result, Mr Varian met his death.

“However, that is mere surmise. What we know is, that Betty was carried through the kitchen where the pillow fell, – still holding one of her hair-pins, probably caught during the struggle, – and she was carried down the cellar stairs. During this trip her string of beads broke, and were scattered about. As we never found but a few, and those were under furniture or cupboards, I gather the villains picked up all they could see, lest they should be found as evidence.”

“Which they were!” said Zizi.

“Which they were,” Wise assented. “Then, they carried that girl whether conscious or chloroformed I can’t say, down to the cellar, down the old well, through the tunnel to the cave. There they could wait any number of hours until the tide served, and take her away in a boat without attracting the notice of anybody.”

“Most likely at night,” Zizi put in.

“Most likely. Anyway, Mrs Varian, that’s my finding. It’s all very dreadful, but horrifying as it is, it opens the way to better things. To go on, there can be no doubt that this same villain, and a clever one he is, returned here at night for plunder and on other errands.

“He came and left the letter found so mysteriously on the hall table. He came to rob the library safe, thinking the ransom money was in it. And he was spied upon and discovered by the maid, Martha, so that he ruthlessly strangled the poor thing to death, rather than face exposure.”

“And then he abducted North!” Doctor Varian cried; “and it’s easy to see why! North had doubtless also spied on him, and somehow he forced North to go away with him, – perhaps at pistol’s point.”

“Now our question is, – ”

“Two questions!” Zizi cried; “first, who is the criminal, – and second where is he keeping Betty all this time?”

“Yes, and we know a great deal to start on.” Wise spoke thoughtfully. “We know, almost to a certainty, that it is the man whom we call Stephen, because he wrote threatening letters signed ‘Step.’ We know he is diabolically clever, absolutely fearless, and willing to commit any crime or series of crimes to gain his end, which is merely the large sum of money he has demanded from Mrs Varian, and which he had previously demanded from Mr Varian, as blackmail.”

“Why should he blackmail my husband?” Minna asked, tearfully, and Wise said, “There is not always a sound reason for blackmail, Mrs Varian. Sometimes it is an unjust accusation or a mistaken suspicion. Any way, as you have often declared, Mr Frederick Varian was a noble and upright man, and his integrity could not be questioned.”

“Now, then,” said Doctor Varian, “to find this master hand at crime. I am astounded at your revelations, Mr Wise, and I confess myself utterly in the dark as to our next step.”

“An animal that attacks in the open,” Wise returned, “may be shot or snared. But a wicked, crafty animal may only be caught by a trap. I propose to set a trap to catch our foe. It is a wicked trap, but he is a wicked man. It will harm him physically, but he deserves to be harmed physically. It is a sly, underhand method, but so are his own. Therefore, I conclude that a trap is justified in his case.”

“You mean a real, literal mantrap?” asked the doctor.

“I mean just that. I have already procured it and I propose to set it tonight. This is Thursday. As matters stand now, our ‘Stephen’ is assuming or at least hoping that Mrs Varian means to accede to his last request and throw the money over the cliff tomorrow, Friday night. Now, I feel pretty positive that Stephen is not so confident of getting that money safely as he pretends he is. He must be more or less fearful of detection. I’m sure that he will return to this house tonight, by his usual mode of entrance, and will try to steal the money. Then he will disappear and he may or may not give up Betty.”

“You think he’ll come here? Tonight?” Doctor Varian was astonished.

“I do.”

“Then we’ll be ready for him! I fancy between us, Mr Wise, we can account for him and his accomplice.”

“Too dangerous, Doctor. He would kill us both before we knew it. No, I’m going to set my trap. If he comes he deserves to be trapped. If he doesn’t come, there is certainly no harm done.”

“Where shall we hide the money?” asked Minna, nervously.

“It doesn’t matter,” and Wise’s face set sternly. “He will never get as far as the money.”

Hating his job, but fully alive to the justice and necessity of it, Wise set his trap that night.

It was a real trap, and was set up in the kitchen in such a position that it faced the cellar door. It consisted of a short-barreled shotgun which was mounted on an improvised gun carriage, made of a strong packing box.

This contrivance was fastened carefully to the kitchen wall about twelve feet in front of the cellar door, and when the door should be opened, the trap would be sprung and the shotgun discharged.

A steel spring fastened to the trigger, and a strong cord running to a pulley in the ceiling, thence to another, and finally to a pulley in the floor, and on to the door knob completed the deadly mechanism.

The tension of the spring was so carefully adjusted that an intruder might open the door a foot or more before the strain was carried to the trigger. This insured a sure aim and a clear shot.

Wise tested his trap thoroughly, and finally, with a grim nod of his head, declared it was all right.

He had sent the servants and the women-folks to bed, before beginning his work, and now he and Doctor Varian seated themselves in the library to await developments.

“As I said,” Wise remarked, “‘Stephen’ may not come at all, he may send an accomplice. Yet this I expect the most surely, – he will come himself.”

“Have you no idea of his identity, Mr Wise?” the doctor asked.

“Yes; I have an idea, – and if he does not come tonight, I will tell you who I think he is. But we will wait and see.”

They waited, now silent and now indulging in a few low toned bits of conversation, when at two o’clock in the morning the report of the gun brought them to their feet and they raced to the kitchen.

The roaring detonation was still in their ears as they strode through the hall, and the smell of powder greeted them at the kitchen door.

The cellar door was open, and on the floor near it lay a man breathing with difficulty.

Doctor Varian dropped on his knees beside him, and his professional instinct was at once in full working order, even as his astonished voice exclaimed:

“Lawrence North!”

“As I expected,” Wise said, “and well he deserves his fate. Will he live, Doctor?”

“Only a few moments,” was the preoccupied reply. “I can do nothing for him. He received the full charge in the abdomen.”

“Tell your story, North,” Wise said, briefly; “don’t waste time in useless groaning.”

North glared at the detective.

“You fiend!” he gasped, gurgling in rage and agony.

“You’re the fiend!” Varian said; “hush your vituperation and tell us where Betty is.”

A smile of low cunning came over North’s villainous face. He used his small remaining strength to say: “That you’ll never know. You’ve spiked your own guns. Nobody knows but me, – and I won’t tell!”