The Search
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. What _are_ we 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.”
“One of the best things to have,” commented Varian. “Now, I don’t know
that we need keep Mr Landon here any longer. What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” said Merritt, thoughtfully. “He was here at the time of
the—crime?”
“Yes; but so were several others, and they’ve gone away. As you like, Mr
Landon, but I don’t think you need stay unless you wish.”
“I do wish,” Ted Landon said. “I may be of use, somehow, and, too, I’m
deeply interested. I want to see what the sheriff thinks about it, and,
too, I want to try to find or help to find Miss Betty.”
“Betty must be found,” said Varian, as if suddenly reminded of the fact.
“I am so distracted between the shock of my brother’s death and the
anxiety regarding his wife’s condition, that for the moment I almost
forgot Betty. That child must be hiding somewhere. She must have been
frightened in some fearful way, and either fainted or run away and hid
out in the grounds somewhere. I’m positive she isn’t in the house.”
“She couldn’t have gone out the back door,” said Landon. “It was locked
when I went to it.”
“She couldn’t have gone out at the front door or we should have seen
her,” Varian added, “She stepped out of a window, then.”
“Are you assuming some intruder?” asked Merritt, wonderingly.
“I’m not assuming anything,” returned Varian, a little crisply, for his
nerves were on edge. “But Betty Varian must be found,—my duty is to the
living as well as to the dead.”
He glanced at his brother’s body, and his face expressed a mute promise
to care for that brother’s child.
“But how are you going to find her?” asked Landon. “We saw Miss Varian
enter this house——”
“Therefore, she is still in it,—or in the grounds,” said Varian,
positively. “It can’t be otherwise. I shall hunt out of doors first,
before it grows dusk. Then we can hunt the house afterward.”
“You have hunted the house.”
“Yes; but it must be hunted more thoroughly. Why, Betty, or—Betty’s body
must be somewhere. And must be found.”
Doctor Merritt listened, dumfounded. Here was mystery indeed. Mr Varian
dead,—shot,—no weapon found, and his daughter missing.
What could be the explanation?
The hunt out of doors for Betty resulted in nothing at all. There was no
kitchen garden, merely a drying plot and a small patch of back yard,
mostly stones and hard ground. This was surrounded by dwarfed and stunted
pine trees, which not only afforded no hiding place, but shut off no
possible nook or cranny where Betty could be hidden. The whole tableland
was exposed to view from all parts of it, and it was clear to be seen
that Betty Varian could not be hiding out of doors.
And since she could not have left the premises, save by the road where
the picnic party was congregated, there was no supposition but that she
was still in the house.
“Can you form any theory, Doctor Varian?” Landon asked him.
“No, I can’t. Can you?”
“Only the obvious one,—that Miss Varian killed her father and then hid
somewhere.”
“But where? Mind you, I don’t for a moment admit she killed her father,
that’s too ridiculous! But whoever killed him, may also have killed her.
It is her body I think we are more likely to find.”
“How, then, did the assassin get away?”
“I don’t know. I’m not prepared to say there’s no way out of this
place——”
“But I know that to be the fact. There comes the sheriff, Doctor Varian.
That’s Potter.”
They went into the house again, and found the sheriff and another man
with him.
Merritt made the necessary introductions, and Doctor Varian looked at
Potter.
“The strangest case you’ve ever had,” he informed him, “and the most
important. How do you propose to handle it?”
“Like I do all the others, by using my head.”
“Yes, I know, but I mean what help do you expect to have?”
“Dunno’s I’ll need any yet. Haven’t got the principal facts. Dead man’s
your brother, ain’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Shot dead and no weapon around. Criminal unknown. Now, about this young
lady,—the daughter. Where is she?”
“I don’t know,—but I hope you can find her.”
And then Doctor Varian told, in his straightforward way, of his search
for the girl.
“Mighty curious,” vouchsafed the sheriff, with an air of one stating a
new idea. “The girl and her father on good terms?”
“Yes, of course,” Varian answered, but his slight hesitation made the
sheriff eye him keenly.
“We want the truth, you know,” he said, thoughtfully. “If them two wasn’t
on good terms, you might as well say so,—’cause it’ll come out sooner or
later.”
“But they were,—so far as I know.”
“Oh, well, all right. I can’t think yet, the girl shot her father. I
won’t think that,—lessen I have to. But, good land, man, you say you’ve
looked all over the house,—where’s the murderer, then?”
“Suicide?” laconically said the man who had come with the sheriff.
It was the first time he had spoken. He was a quiet, insignificant chap,
but his eyes were keen and his whole face alert.
“Couldn’t be, Bill,” said the sheriff, “with no weapon about.”
“Might ’a’ been removed,” the other said, in his brief way.
“By whom?” asked Doctor Varian.
“By whoever came here first,” Bill returned, looking at him.
“I came here first,” Varian stated. “Do you mean I removed the weapon?”
“Have to look at all sides, you know.”
“Well, I didn’t. But I won’t take time, now, to enlarge on that plain
statement. I’ll be here, you can question me, when and as often as you
like. Now, Mr Potter, what are you going to do first?”
“Well, seems to me there’s no more to be done with Mr Varian’s body. You
two doctors have examined it, you know all about the wound that killed
him. Bill, here, has jotted down all the details of its position and all
that. Now, I think you can call in the undertakers and have the body
taken away or kept here till the funeral,—whichever you like.”
“The funeral!” exclaimed Doctor Varian, realizing a further
responsibility for his laden shoulders. “I suppose I’d better arrange
about that, for my sister-in-law will not be able to do so.”
“Jest’s you like,” said Potter. “Next, I’ll investigate for myself the
absence of this girl. A mysterious disappearance is as serious a matter
as a mysterious death,—maybe, more so.”
“That’s true,” agreed Varian. “I hope you’ll be able to find my niece,
for she must be found.”
“Easy enough to say she must be found,—the trick is to find her.”
“Have you any theory of the crime, Mr Potter?” Landon asked.
“Theory? No, I don’t deal in theories. I may say it looks to me like the
girl may have shot her father, but it only looks that way because there’s
no other way, so far, for it to look. You can’t suspect a criminal that
you ain’t had any hint of, can you? If anybody, now, turns up who’s seen
a man prowling round—or seen any mysterious person, or if any servant is
found who, say, didn’t go to the circus, but hung behind, or——”
“But if there’s any such, they or he must be in the house now,” Bill
said, quietly. “Let’s go and see.”
The two started from the room and Landon, after a glance at Doctor
Varian, followed them.
“I don’t see,” Landon said to Potter as they went to the kitchen, “why
you folks in authority always seem to think it necessary to take an
antagonistic attitude toward the people who are representing the dead
man! You act toward Doctor Varian as if you more than half suspected he
had a hand in the crime himself!”
“Not that, my boy,” and Potter looked at him gravely; “but that doctor
brother knows more than he’s telling.”
“That’s not so! I know. I came up here to the house with him. I was with
him when he found his brother’s body——”
“Oh, you were! Why didn’t you say so?”
“You didn’t ask me. No, I don’t know anything more. I’ve nothing to tell
that can throw any possible light, but I do know that Doctor Varian had
no hand in it and knows no more about it than I do.”
“Good land, I don’t mean that he killed his brother,—I know better than
that. But he wasn’t frank about the relations between the girl and her
father. Do you know that they were all right? Friendly, I mean?”
“So far as I know, they were. But I never met them until today. I can
only say that they acted like any normal, usual father and daughter.”
“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. It’ll all come out,—that sort of thing. Now
to find the girl.”