His nearest neighbor was all of five hundred feet distant, and the house was one to tempt the cupidity of the professional burglar. In due season the cab pulled up before Mr. Field’s house and the detective sprang out. To the driver he said: “Just stay here until I send you word. I may want you.” The detective went up the steps and rang the bell. He was kept waiting only the fraction of a minute. “Is Mr. Barnes here?” he inquired of the servant who opened the door. “Yes, sir. Are you the man he is expecting?” “I am.” “Then you are to walk into the parlor. Mr. Barnes is waiting for you there.” Nick stepped into the room mentioned. As he did so a man came forward from the rear of the room, saying gravely: “I am more glad to see you than I can express. A fearful murder has been committed here.” “Who is the victim?” “Mr. Field.” “I had suspected as much. When did it happen?” “Some time during the night.” “How did you learn of it?” “One of the servants came over to my house and gave the alarm.” “You came over here at once?” “I did.” “What did the servant who told you of it have to say?” “At the time he simply told me that Mr. Field had been murdered. It was not until after I had arrived at the house that I learned any of the particulars.” “What were they?” “I will tell you if such is your wish, but as the case promises to be filled with mystery, perhaps it would be better to gain your first impression of it direct from the servant.” “Well suggested. Where is the body?” Mr. Barnes was silent. He acted like a man who is uncertain what answer to make to best aid the course of justice. The detective did not wait long for an answer, but went on: “In what room was the deed committed?” “In his own room.” “Where is that?” “On the next floor.” “The murder is supposed to have taken place during the night?” “It is known that such was the case.” “Did anybody see it done?” “No, although it is known when it was done.” “Let us go to his room.” “Very well.” “As you are familiar with the house, suppose you lead the way.” With an assenting nod Mr. Barnes did so. He led the way upstairs and to a room in the front of the house. As he crossed the threshold of this room he said: “This room was used by him as a sort of library. His sleeping room is just back of this.” The detective gave one keen glance around him and then said: “The murder was not committed in this room?” “It was not.” “Then lead the way into the sleeping room.” Mr. Barnes did so in silence. Again the detective looked around him. In this room were numerous evidences of a struggle. With his gaze fastened on the bed, which was empty, the detective said: “I do not see anything of the body.” Waiting for an answer, but not getting any, he went on: “Has the body been removed to another room?” “It has not.” “Then where is it?” “I don’t know.” In a surprised tone the detective echoed: “Don’t know?” “No.” “How is that?”