“I am obliged to, Mrs Varian. To begin with the only fact we can positively affirm, Mr Varian was shot,—and not by his own hand. This we assume because of the absence of the weapon. Now, either Miss Betty shot him or someone else did. I can’t think the daughter did it, for it’s against the probabilities in every way,—though, of course, it’s a possibility. But the difficulties in the way of explaining what the girl did with herself afterward, seem to me greater than the objections to assuming an intruder from outside. I mean from outside the family,—not from outside the house. The explanation of his entrance and exit is no more of a puzzle than the explanation of Miss Varian’s exit. And I think we must dismiss the idea that the girl concealed herself in this house,—whether alive or—a suicide.”
“The girl didn’t do it,” came Zizi’s low murmur. She was sitting on an ottoman, near Minna, and now and then she caressed the hand of her hostess. “There’s a big mind at the back of all this. And you’re overlooking the death of the maid last night Why, Penny, it’s all of a piece.”
“Yes”; and Wise roused himself from a brown study. “It is all of a piece, and it hinges on that bequest of the Varian pearls.”
“Hinges on that?” said Zizi.
“I mean that’s a key to the situation. When we learn why Mr Varian made that strange arrangement, we’ll be on our way to a solution of the mystery. But the first thing is to find Miss Varian.”
“Oh, Mr Wise,” Minna cried out, “you think she is alive——”
“I very much hope so, and though I don’t want to give you false encouragement, I can’t help feeling that she may be,”
“Yes, she is,” came Zizi’s quiet assurance, and Minna impulsively kissed her.
“What a comfort you are!” she exclaimed; “elf, pixie,—I don’t know what to call you,—but you bring me courage and hope.”
Zizi’s great dark eyes gave appreciation, but she only said, “You’re up against it, Penny.”