Then he whistled. “Whew!” he exclaimed. “I never dreamed of such a thing. But—I can see it plainly now.” “The two cases are one.” “Yes.” “We can easily undertake your case for you.” “On my word, this is a surprise,” said the chief. “But this is light upon the mystery. We now know the identity of the victim.” “Beyond a doubt.” “It is easy to assume that the young girl was decoyed to Fifteenth street and foully murdered.” “For what purpose?” “And by whom?” “That remains to be unearthed.” “It must be done!” At this moment the door opened and a clerk appeared. “What is it, White?” asked the chief. “A gentleman to see you, sir,” replied the clerk, handing the chief a card. The latter glanced at it. Then he gave a start. The name upon the card was: “Napoleon Blood, Notary and Justice, Wall street, New York.” “The uncle and guardian,” said the chief. “What does he want to see me for? Perhaps he has a clew!” The Bradys arose. “Wait a moment,” said the chief, “I want you to hear what this visitor has to say.” “But—perhaps he will not speak if we are here,” said Old King Brady. “We will fix that,” said the chief, drawing the wing of a folding screen across a corner of the room. “Get behind this and listen.” The detectives obeyed. In a few moments the door again opened and the clerk showed Mr. Blood into the room. Napoleon Blood, uncle of the missing heiress, was a sharp-eyed, hatchet-faced man of not altogether prepossessing appearance. He was dressed in dark clothes and had an oily, suave manner. He bowed obsequiously as he accepted the chair proffered him by the chief. “Well, Mr. Blood, what can I do for you?” asked the chief. “Ah, if you could only give me a clew to the fate of my dear niece I would be forever in your debt,” replied Blood, in a psalm-singing tone. The chief bowed. “Then you have discovered nothing new?” he asked. “Well, ahem! That is, I have a new theory.” The chief affected interest. “What is it?” he asked. “Well, it may be only theory, but sometimes I think it fact. I do not wish to wrong the young man—but—you see young people will be foolish—and—I—of course, this is all confidential.” “Certainly!” replied the chief in a mystified way. “There is a young man in the case. His name is Allerton Banks.” The chief noted down the name. “He is a poverty-stricken clerk,” continued Blood, “but he dared to aspire to the hand of my niece. Of course I forbade the thing at once. My niece acted very rebellious and forward and I was obliged to be very peremptory with her. “I suspect that young Banks made the appointment with her which the note indicates. They very likely quarreled. Probably he tried to induce her to elope with him. When she refused, he might have, in a fit of rage, killed her and dragged her body into the tenement.” The chief listened to this statement silently. He was silent a long while. His gaze was fixed on Blood so long that the latter became nervous.