"It's all queer!" sighed Betty. "But now that this unfortunate man's body has been found—Wallie! do you think it possible he was thrown down that mine? That would mean murder!"
"If he was thrown down there, already dead," answered Neale grimly, "it would not only mean murder but that more than one person was concerned in it. We shall know more when they've examined the body and searched the clothing. I'm going round to the police-station when I've seen you back to the hotel—I'm hoping they'll find something that'll settle the one point that's so worrying."
"Which point?" asked Betty.
"The real critical point—in my opinion," answered Neale. "Who it was that Hollis came to see on Saturday? There may be letters, papers, on him that'll settle that. And if we once know that—ah! that will make a difference! Because then—then——"
"What then?" demanded Betty.
"Then the police can ask that person if Hollis did meet him!" exclaimed Neale. "And they can ask, too, what that person did with Hollis. Solve that, and we'll see daylight!"
But Betty shook her head with clear indications of doubt as to the validity of this theory.
"No!" she said. "It won't come off, Wallie. If there's been foul play, the guilty people will have had too much cleverness to leave any evidences on their victim. I don't believe they'll find anything on Hollis that'll clear things up. Daylight isn't coming from that quarter!"
"Where are we to look for it, then?" asked Neale dismally.
"It's somewhere far back," declared Betty. "I've felt that all along. The secret of all this affair isn't in anything that's been done here and lately—it's in something deep down. And how to get at it, and to find out about my uncle, I don't know."