“Undoubtedly.” “That occurred a week ago,” Chick went on. “He evidently has been lying ill and in a bad way since then. There was convincing evidence of that. Furthermore, according to the neighbors we questioned, no physician was called and nothing definite is known about the couple. They have occupied the house nearly a month. They probably did not dare to call a physician, lest the wound might lead to an exposure of Nordeck’s identity and his part in the Westchester burglary.” “That undoubtedly explains it,” Nick agreed. “Nordeck took a chance of recovery without the help of a surgeon. His negligence proved fatal. The writer of the letter must have been his daughter, Nancy Nordeck, whom I saw on a Harlem train a month ago.” “That’s right, too,” Chick said. “The woman seen by the neighbors answers Nancy Nordeck’s description. She took care of her father till he died. Then she bolted, sending Chief Mallory that letter and a fifty-dollar bank note for funeral expenses.” “It shows plainly enough that I was right.” “In attributing the burglary to a gang including Nordeck?” “Exactly. That bank note was part of the plunder,” said Nick. “Nordeck evidently got his share of it. He must have been dead broke before the burglary, however, or he would not have been living in such quarters as you describe. You searched the house, of course.” “Every nook and corner.” “What did you find?” “Only what I have stated. There was nothing to show where Nancy Nordeck has gone, nor any trace of the stolen money. She bolted with that, all right, or as much of it as Nordeck derived from the job. Mallory took charge of the body and will have it decently buried.” “If we are to judge from the sentiment expressed in her letter to Mallory, the better part of the girl must have been deeply stirred by the death of her father,” Nick observed. “She wanted him to have a cloth-covered casket with silver grips, you remember, also a prayer said for him.” “She is not entirely bad, then, after all.” “His death may have hit her hard, Chick, and possibly will reform her. Let’s hope so for her own sake. Where did you get this cast?” “From one of the footprints in the back yard,” said Chick. “I thought it might be needed later, perhaps, and so I sent Danny after some plaster and made a cast of the footprint. It was Nancy Nordeck’s, all right, for no other woman has recently been in the yard. She was----” “Stop a moment,” Nick interrupted. “By Jove, Chick, you are right. Circumstances do dovetail strangely sometimes.” “You mean----” “This is a facsimile of one of the imprints I found under Maybrick’s library window.” “Are you sure?” “Positively. Here is the run-down heel, the mark of a patch on the sole, and the size is exactly the same.” “Great guns! that seems almost incredible,” said Chick, with a puzzled expression. “It cannot be that Nancy Nordeck was one of the women you suspected of having been watching Maybrick.”