“She may be in the house somewhere,” suggested Norma, wide-eyed and tearful.
“Not she,” said Wise. “She would hear our commotion, and come to us. Zizi is not one to play mischievous tricks.”
“But how did she get out?”
“How did Vernie’s body get out?” asked Braye, gravely. “There’s no chance for a human marauder this time.”
“No,” and Professor Hardwick looked over the great locks and bolts on the front doors, and examined the window catches.
Pennington Wise looked very serious.
“Don’t talk any foolishness about spooks,” he said, sternly; “I don’t want to hear it. Zizi has been carried off by mortal hands, and if any harm has been done her it will go hard with the villain who is responsible!”
“Who could have done it—and why?” cried Eve.
“Those who know the most about it, are often the loudest in their lamentations,” Wise returned and stalked off to his room.
Breakfast was eaten in a silence that seemed portentous of impending trouble. Pennington Wise was deep in thought and apparently had no knowledge of what he was eating nor any consciousness of the people about him.