“How can you know that?” “Easy enough. The feet of the persons were muddy, as was shown by the marks and dirt left upon the carpet of the rooms upstairs. In this room is no trace of anything of the kind.” Barnes exclaimed: “Now that you bring it to mind, it is as clear as day! Do you know one thing?” “No.” “I should hate to have committed a crime and know that you were on my track.” Nick smiled. “You are not the only person who entertains that idea! More than one criminal would prefer to hear that the Evil One himself was pursuing him than that I was. But where is the housekeeper?” “Downstairs.” “I want to see her.” A few minutes later he had an interview with the woman. Whatever his suspicions as regarded other members of Mr. Field’s household, this woman he believed to be perfectly innocent. That she had been devoted to her master’s service he felt no particle of doubt. He had seen her before, when he questioned all the servants. She it was who had been the one to discover that there were strangers in the house, which incident had made it necessary in the estimation of the criminals that all the servants should be bound. She had been in the service of Mr. Field ever since he and his bride had returned from their wedding tour, now more than eighteen years ago. She had been in his service when the little daughter was born to them, and had also been here when the outraged wife had resented the cruel insinuations of her husband and had left him, taking their child with her. She explained how it had chanced that she had discovered the taking of the silver so long after making what had been thought to be a thorough search. Feeling that he could trust her, the detective inquired: “Do you consider all the servants as being above suspicion?” “I do.” “Without exception?” “Yes.” “How about Timon?” “He is not for an instant to be suspected of doing anything that would lead to the hurting of a hair of Mr. Field’s head. He was just devoted to him.” While the detective was at heart glad to thus have the character of a fellow-being sustained, he yet was greatly dissatisfied on hearing so positive a reply, for it tended anew to upset theories built up as being the only ones tenable. Masking his real feelings in the case, he took another tack, and said: “Mr. Field was married, they tell me?” “He was.” “You knew his wife?” “I did.” “She was a lady?” “In every sense of the word, sir.” “Mr. Field used her badly?” “He did, sir, in a way. But he never struck her or did anything bad in that way.” “They had a child?” “Yes, sir. It was a little girl, and they called her Helen, after Mr. Field’s mother, who died only a little while before, and of whom he thought a sight.” “Whatever became of the mother and child?” “That is what Mr. Field would have given all he was worth afterward to have found out. He had detectives at work, but they could never seem to find anything of them.”