"Yes," he said, "here she is--Harriet Parello. She was brought here from West Twenty-seventh Street," and he named the number. "Not a very savoury locality, is it, doctor?" "No; though one can't tell what it was twenty years ago." "That's true. I don't suppose you remember anything about her?" "No; I wasn't here at that time." Godfrey was still running down the column of names, and was seemingly little interested in the Parello case. "The husband rather impressed me," went on the chief. "Rather a handsome fellow in his day, but now evidently a wreck--and a perfect brute morally--or so I judge." "What did he want?" inquired Godfrey negligently. "He wanted to know what had become of her. I thought it peculiar he should have waited so long to make inquiries." "Were you able to help him out?" "Oh, yes; our records give the history of every case." Godfrey closed the index, evidently disappointed. "I don't see any trace here of the case I'm looking for," he said. "Maybe she didn't come here, after all. But I should like to look at the records, doctor, just out of curiosity. This Parello case, now----" The chief pulled a big ledger down from a shelf, referred to a number in the index, and opened the book. "Here it is," he said. "You see, she was suffering from emotional insanity--homicidal mania--stayed nearly a year--was very violent at first--gradually grew better and was finally discharged as cured. Her sister, Miss Lucy Kingdon--why, wasn't that the name you were looking for?" "Yes; and this is the case. Please go ahead, doctor." The chief looked at him for a moment in astonishment, then turned back to his book. "Her sister, Miss Lucy Kingdon, of Elizabeth, New Jersey, was notified at her request," he continued, "and came after her. There have been no reports since." "That's all we need to know," said Godfrey, permitting some of his satisfaction to appear in his face. "This record was shown to the husband, I suppose?" "Yes; I had no reason for refusing to show it." "Most certainly not," agreed Godfrey. "And I must compliment you, doctor, on the very thorough way in which your records are kept. Come, Lester, we haven't any time to lose. "Our chain is complete in every link," he added, when we were in our cab again, rattling westward across the city. "Nothing can break it. All we need now is to learn the story of the Parellos." "And that's what we're going after?" "Yes--but it's a chance. Twenty years, in a neighbourhood like that, are certain to work great changes. It's a long chance. Ten to one, there'll be nobody there who remembers Parello." And he was right. The block in which was the number we sought had been converted into a street-car barn. There were no longer any Italians in the neighbourhood--it had become an outskirt of the negro quarter. Godfrey took out his watch and glanced at it.