“Well, that is strange,” agreed the chief. “You cannot explain the dragging of the body into that house in particular?” “Exactly.” “It would seem that the perpetrators of the crime were acquainted with the fact that the inmates were away and that an excellent chance was afforded to cover up the murder,” said Harry. “Ah, I see!” agreed the chief. “Altogether it is a baffling case.” “There seems not even a shadow for us to grasp.” The chief laughed. “I’ll wager that state of affairs will not last long,” he said. “The Bradys were never yet defeated, and I’m sure this case will meet the fate of all others.” “We shall do our best,” said Old King Brady. “If you were not already engaged on this case I could give you another which would interest you,” said the chief. “What is it?” asked Harry. “Perhaps we can handle both,” said Old King Brady. But the chief shook his head. “I think not,” he said. “It is a case which will require the best efforts of a man, and could hardly be divided.” “Let us hear it,” said Old King Brady, with interest. “Certainly!” agreed the chief, as he turned to his notebook. “Here are the details.” The chief glanced over his notes and then said: “A mysterious disappearance. A beautiful young society lady and heiress, of Westchester, drops suddenly from sight. Not a clew to her whereabouts. “Miss Evelyn Grimm, daughter of the late Theophilus Grimm, and heiress to a vast estate now held in trust by Napoleon Blood, her uncle, awaiting her coming of age, suddenly disappears. The uncle is frantic and has used every means to trace her. “The only clew is a brief note of appointment, written in a masculine hand, with these words: “‘Miss Grimm: I will be at the Union Square rendezvous at ten o’clock. Do not fail to meet me, for I have business of very great importance. D. B.’” The chief finished reading the notes and then leaned back in his chair. When he looked up he was startled at the expression on the faces of the detectives. Old King Brady’s eyes gleamed like balls of fire. “What’s the matter, Brady? You look excited!” exclaimed the chief. “Well, perhaps I am,” replied the old detective. “I beg leave to ask you the name of that young lady?” “I read it to you. Miss Evelyn Grimm.” “Grimm?” “Yes.” Both detectives drew a deep breath. “She lived in Westchester?” “So the notes say.” “And kept an appointment at ten o’clock Wednesday evening at Union Square?” “It is believed so.” “That was the night of the storm?” “Yes.” “Also the night of the fire and murder in East Fifteenth street.” “That is so!” The chief gave a start. “By jove!” he exclaimed. “You don’t really think that—there is any connection——” “Yes,” said Old King Brady, emphatically, “there is no doubt of it!” “How——” “The name on the lace handkerchief which we found in the burning tenement, bore the name of Evelyn Grimm.” For a moment the chief sat in startled silence.