Entering the house Nick Carter found Barnes still there.
The latter greeted him with:
“Well, did you learn anything in your trip downtown?”
“Something that may ultimately prove to have bearing on the matter. How has it been here?”
“In what respect?”
“Anything new?”
“There has been a new development.”
“Ah! What is it?”
“It seems that, after all, the motive was primarily robbery.”
“So?”
“Yes.”
“Something has been missing, then?”
“There has.”
“What is it?”
“A portion of the silver.”
“But not all of it?”
“No, only the most portable pieces of it.”
“Who made the discovery?”
“The housekeeper.”
“She takes charge of the silver, then?”
“Yes, or rather that portion of it in ordinary use. The remainder of it was under the care of Mr. Field personally, who retained the key to the safe in which it is kept.”
“Where is the key of that safe now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has it been searched for?”
“It has, within the last half an hour.”
“Then it is not known if that safe has been robbed?”
“It is not.”
“Where is this safe?”
“In a small room back of the dining room.”
Barnes led the way thither.
Reaching the room the detective inquired:
“Who has recently been in this room?”
“Nobody but myself and the housekeeper.”
Looking sharply and swiftly about him the detective was only the fraction of a minute in arriving at a conclusion.
He said:
“That safe has not been tampered with.”
Giving him a surprised look, Barnes exclaimed:
“This is wonderful!”
“What is wonderful?”
“Why, that you can come into this room and after one glance can say positively that this safe has not been tampered with.”
“There is nothing wonderful about it.”
“It appears so to me.”
“That is because you do not look below the surface. Can you see any evidence of tools being used on the safe?”
“No.”
“But, had it been forced, such marks would inevitably be seen?”
“Yes.”
“Then it was not forced?”
“Of course not. However, it was not my idea that it had been entered that way. I took it that they might have found the key on Mr. Field and helped themselves.”
The detective quietly said:
“They were not even in this room, so they could not well have opened the safe.”
“How can you know that?”
“Easy enough. The feet of the persons were muddy, as was shown by the marks and dirt left upon the carpet of the rooms upstairs. In this room is no trace of anything of the kind.”
Barnes exclaimed:
“Now that you bring it to mind, it is as clear as day! Do you know one thing?”
“No.”
“I should hate to have committed a crime and know that you were on my track.”
Nick smiled.
“You are not the only person who entertains that idea! More than one criminal would prefer to hear that the Evil One himself was pursuing him than that I was. But where is the housekeeper?”
“Downstairs.”
“I want to see her.”
A few minutes later he had an interview with the woman.
Whatever his suspicions as regarded other members of Mr. Field’s household, this woman he believed to be perfectly innocent. That she had been devoted to her master’s service he felt no particle of doubt.
He had seen her before, when he questioned all the servants.
She it was who had been the one to discover that there were strangers in the house, which incident had made it necessary in the estimation of the criminals that all the servants should be bound.
She had been in the service of Mr. Field ever since he and his bride had returned from their wedding tour, now more than eighteen years ago.
She had been in his service when the little daughter was born to them, and had also been here when the outraged wife had resented the cruel insinuations of her husband and had left him, taking their child with her.
She explained how it had chanced that she had discovered the taking of the silver so long after making what had been thought to be a thorough search.
Feeling that he could trust her, the detective inquired:
“Do you consider all the servants as being above suspicion?”
“I do.”
“Without exception?”
“Yes.”
“How about Timon?”
“He is not for an instant to be suspected of doing anything that would lead to the hurting of a hair of Mr. Field’s head. He was just devoted to him.”
While the detective was at heart glad to thus have the character of a fellow-being sustained, he yet was greatly dissatisfied on hearing so positive a reply, for it tended anew to upset theories built up as being the only ones tenable.
Masking his real feelings in the case, he took another tack, and said:
“Mr. Field was married, they tell me?”
“He was.”
“You knew his wife?”
“I did.”
“She was a lady?”
“In every sense of the word, sir.”
“Mr. Field used her badly?”
“He did, sir, in a way. But he never struck her or did anything bad in that way.”
“They had a child?”
“Yes, sir. It was a little girl, and they called her Helen, after Mr. Field’s mother, who died only a little while before, and of whom he thought a sight.”
“Whatever became of the mother and child?”
“That is what Mr. Field would have given all he was worth afterward to have found out. He had detectives at work, but they could never seem to find anything of them.”
Watching her very sharply, although his eyes were to all appearance buried under their lashes, the detective said:
“There is a girl in the house, I believe?”
“There is.”
“Have you seen her?”
“I have.”
“Did you ever see her before?”
“No, sir; unless——”
“Unless what?”
“Why, sir, I have been wondering who the girl is, and why Mr. Barnes didn’t tell us something about her, for she is the living image of Mrs. Field!”
Nick Carter gave a start.
Had everybody combined in a league against him?
It almost seemed so. Here was the housekeeper testifying to a remarkable resemblance between this girl and Mrs. Field, just as he was firmly settled in the conclusion that she was a rank impostor.
He said, sharply:
“You must be mistaken!”
“I am not. I never saw a resemblance more strongly marked than this girl bears to Mrs. Field as I remember her.”
“What has been said to you about this girl?”
“Nothing.”
“You are sure?”
“I am.”
“Not even one word?”
With a different inflection, she repeated:
“Not even one word!”
“Has it not been suggested to your mind that this girl is the child who went away with Mrs. Field?”
“It has not, even by a look.”
Nick bit his lip.
As fast as he built one thing it was knocked down by something else.
But, come what might, the letter purporting to come from Mr. Field, and shown by this girl, was a forgery!
This fact there was no gainsaying.
The points of difference were too distinctly defined to admit of the slightest question.
It was written with different ink!
A steel pen had been used!
The test applied to the ink proved that part of it. And while a quill pen always leaves a soft and wavy edge to the lines it produces, a steel one makes a line that is clear-cut, distinct and sharply defined. The difference between the two was so great that it was not possible to make a mistake.
Leaving the housekeeper, he sought Barnes again, and taking him so suddenly as to give him no time for preparation, he said:
“I understand that you have introduced Miss Doane as the daughter of Mr. Field!”
Without a particle of hesitation, Barnes rejoined:
“It is not the case, for I have not said a word to anybody, and, I may say, have not so much as implied it by a look.”
“Not even to the housekeeper?”
“Not even to her. A funny circumstance, though, is that the minute she saw Miss Doane she gave a start and for a second or two I thought she was going to take her into her arms and hug her.”
Nick turned away.
He was far from being in good humor.
Each individual whom he questioned appeared to corroborate everything said by any other that was in opposition to the theories he had formed.
After a moment’s thought he decided to see Miss Doane, and he sent for her to come to the parlor.
When she had arrived he greeted her pleasantly.
“Miss Doane, I would like to ask you a few questions.”
“You are at liberty to do so.”
“I would like to know a little something further in regard to your past life.”
“Very well. I will answer anything that is not too personal in its character.”
“I will try to keep within the line. Where have you recently been residing?”
She unhesitatingly gave the address.
“How long have you been in this house?”
“Nearly two years.”
“Where did you live before that?”
As in the former instance, she gave the address without hesitation.
“Did you have any particular friends in either of these houses?”
“I did not. In all my life I never had half a dozen friends.”
“Were these mostly ladies?”
“Yes.”
“But were there not one or two gentlemen?”
“Only two whom I could call friends.”
“Who were these two?”
“One was Mr. Barnes.”
“And the other?”
“A gentleman by the name of Lorton.”
“What was his other name?”
“Demas.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Quite so.”
“How frequently did you see him?”
“Sometimes every month, but generally not oftener than once in two or three months.”
The prompt and apparently truthful way in which the girl was answering puzzled the detective anew.
If this was acting, then it was the finest that he had ever seen.
And were not the proof so strong the other way, he would have cast all suspicion to the winds, and said:
“This girl is what she seems, an honest, upright, high-principled girl!
“But the letter?
“What could be better than dumb evidence?”
The girl must be lying. But as long as she appeared willing to answer it might be as well to go on questioning her, using his judgment to sift out what was truth and what untruth.
So he asked:
“When did you last see this Mr. Lorton?”
“Just a month ago.”
“Did he say then when you might expect to see him again?”
“Yes.”
“Ah! When was it?”
“He said he was going away, to be gone a couple of months, and that he would come to see me as soon as he came back.”
“Do you know what business this Mr. Lorton was in?”
“Not exactly. He told me once that it was traveling, I think in connection with some patent right.”
“You said something this morning that induced the belief in my mind that you had been inside of a courtroom. Am I right?”
“You are.”
“What business could you have had to take you into a court of law?”
“There was a poor woman living in the house where I one time had a room, whose husband took part in a street fight. He was passing when a couple of men began to fight. He tried to separate them, and they set upon him for interfering, and then while he was defending himself a policeman came up, and arresting him, took him to the station house. The poor woman heard of it and was beside herself with grief, and as she was on a sick bed at the time, I lost a day to go to the court and try to get his freedom. And, sir, it made my blood boil, the way the judge mocked and laughed and jeered the poor wretches who were brought before him.”
As she said this her checks glowed with natural indignation.
Nick Carter could not say it was affected!
He left her presently, convinced against his reason that she was not the guilty thing he had painted her in his mind.
Cold-blooded judgment was against her! Dumb evidence pointed directly at her! But some finer sense told him it could not possibly be that this girl was guilty.
Leaving the house for the second time that day and going downtown, his ears were assailed by the cries of the newsboys, who were selling extra editions based on the strange crime—murder or abduction.
He went to the last place of residence given him by the girl.
Ringing the bell, he inquired for the landlady.
It was a cheap but respectable boarding house, suited to the means of a girl who was compelled to make her living standing behind the counter of a large dry-goods store.
The landlady presently entered, beaming all over.
Seeing in the stranger a prospective new boarder she greeted him with her very sweetest smile of welcome.
Nick Carter did not mean to leave her under the impression that he was seeking board.
Quickly disabusing her mind of this idea, he said:
“I came to see Miss Doane on a matter of business, but am informed that she is not in.”
This was the case, although not so reported by the servant.
He went on:
“I asked to see you, judging that perhaps you could tell me what I want to know and thus save me a second visit here.”
Like most landladies, this one had a weakness for talking, and the detective had taken her on a weak point. To be able to give some information, and be of importance in somebody’s eyes, if even for a few minutes, was sufficient to mollify the woman in face of the disappearance of prospective profits and less troublesome butchers and bakers.
She complacently arranged the folds of her dress and settled herself to be interrogated.
“Miss Doane has been with you some time?”
“She has.”
“How long?”
“Nearly or quite two years.”
“She is a very estimable young lady, I take it?”
“She is, indeed. I never want a nicer lady in my house, and I never before had one.”
“She is very circumspect in her relations with gentlemen?”
“She couldn’t be more so.”
“Did she ever have any gentlemen visitors?”
“Once in a very great while. There was one gentleman who came occasionally that I liked very much. He was tall and dark-complexioned, with a pair of excruciating side whiskers.”
The detective smiled to himself, as he recognized in this description Mr. Barnes.
“But he was not the only one?”
“No, there was another, and a very nice man he seemed to be. He never came as much as the first one I spoke about.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Yes. A tallish man, too, rather chunkily built, with a mustache and a goatee.”
That suited Demas Lorton, all but the goatee. This, however, might very easily have been false.
Returning to the charge, the detective inquired:
“Did Miss Doane often go out in the evening?”
“Seldom or never.”
“Do you remember an instance?”
“Only one, and then she went out with the side-whiskered chap.”
Nick was getting deeper into the mire.
The landlady certainly could have no interest in deceiving him, and if she told the truth, then this Helen Doane could not be the Helen Lorton who had so frequently been seen with Demas Lorton!
“But, perhaps this being seen with him so frequently had occurred prior to the time of her coming here to live,” he thought.
That would soon be ascertained.
He was about to rise to take his leave when the landlady said:
“I—I—beg pardon, but has—has—Miss Doane met with any good fortune?”
Turning a piercing look on her, Nick Carter asked:
“Why do you make that inquiry?”
“Oh! I’ve always had the idea that she was a lady born and quite out of her place in working in a store, and so I was not surprised when a genuine lady came this morning and inquired about her.”
“A lady here this morning, you say, asking for Miss Doane?”
“Yes.”
“What did she look like?”
To this question the woman rejoined:
“Did you ever see Miss Doane?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the lady who called is as much like her, only older, as though they were mother and daughter.”
Nick gave a start of surprise.
What did this mean?
To himself, Nick Carter said:
“I wonder if these complications will ever cease. Now, then, who can this other woman be?”
Aloud, he asked:
“What did you tell this lady?”
“I told her that Miss Doane was out.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked when she would be in.”
“What reply did you make?”
“I told her that Miss Doane had this morning gone somewhere else instead of to the store where she was employed, and that in consequence I could not say when she would be back.”
“Well?”
“She seemed thoughtful for a minute, and then left.”
“Did she say anything about calling again?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“She said to ask Miss Doane to remain home to-morrow and that she would be here at noon to see her.”
“You said this lady was here this morning?”
“Yes.”
“What time was it?”
“I said this morning, but I suppose it was really in the afternoon, for lunch had been cleared away.”
“Was it two o’clock?”
“Just about.”
Thanking the woman for the information given him, and telling himself that he would be on hand to-morrow to meet this woman who had called on Miss Doane, he took his leave.
He went direct to the other place of residence, the address of which the girl had furnished him, but here as in the place he had just left he heard nothing but the best of character given Miss Doane. She had never gone out in the evening, was very circumspect and ladylike in all her actions, and had never received half a dozen visits from gentlemen during her stay there, and these had always been in the parlor and in the presence of other boarders.
“This beats the Dutch!” muttered the detective, as he left this place. “I don’t think it will pan out well to spend any further time in looking up the character of this girl. Everybody appears determined to speak well of her, and for the life of me I can’t attribute it to any gum game on her part, for each of these persons appears to speak from honest conviction.”
Walking briskly along, his footsteps now turned in the direction of his home, he mentally said:
“One of the next steps must be an attempt to find out something about Lorton.”
By this time the day was well spent.