She smiled as she put this query, in the manner of one who feels something like pity for a puerile question. The detective was not disturbed, however. He continued his questioning in an even tone: “Did you go for any special purpose, or merely for the benefit of the exercise?” She pondered for a few moments, as if this was something that had not occurred to her. A slightly troubled look clouded her pretty face. “I really cannot say exactly, Mr. Carter. But I think it was only because the beautiful morning tempted me. I went to bed late last night--or, rather, this morning. But it is often the case with me that, when I retire much later than my usual time, I am awake several hours earlier in the morning. When I wake, I always want to get up.” “H’m!” muttered Nick Carter. “There is reason in that. I am often the same way.” Then, in a more brisk tone: “Do you mind telling me where you went?” “I don’t mind at all. I went down this avenue till I got to where the trolley cars pass. It had been my intention to go into the park for ten minutes or so. But I thought it would be pleasanter to ride in one of the open cars for a few blocks, and come back in the same manner. So I stepped on a car.” “A Brooklyn Heights car?” “Yes. It was going in that direction.” “Do you remember where you got off the car, and what you did then?” The girl shook her head, with a smile, and held out her two hands protestingly. “Actually, Mr. Carter, I cannot tell. I must have been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice how far the car went, or where I left it. All I know is that I found myself at home again after a while, and that I got off the car that brought me here at the corner, two blocks down our avenue. I had been thinking about various things the whole time, and I had performed my whole journey mechanically. It is not often I do that, but it has happened before, and if you had not asked me about it, I should not have given it any further thought.” The sincerity of the girl was beyond question, and Nick Carter knew he could not expect to find out anything more from her. His manner was easy and courteous, as he told her he was sorry to have troubled her, and begged her not to think any more about him or his questions, either. “I don’t mind the questions at all,” she declared. “If I could have told you anything that would be of assistance to my father, I should have been only too glad.” “I am sure of that,” Nick assured her warmly. When Clarice had gone out of the library, with a graceful bow and smile for the detective, Matthew Bentham heaved a sigh of relief. “I knew Clarice could not tell you anything that would have a bearing on this case. I hope you will not consider it necessary to ask her anything more. She is of a nervous temperament, and I am always careful not to do or say anything to distress her when it can be avoided.”