Watching her very sharply, although his eyes were to all appearance buried under their lashes, the detective said: “There is a girl in the house, I believe?” “There is.” “Have you seen her?” “I have.” “Did you ever see her before?” “No, sir; unless----” “Unless what?” “Why, sir, I have been wondering who the girl is, and why Mr. Barnes didn’t tell us something about her, for she is the living image of Mrs. Field!” Nick Carter gave a start. Had everybody combined in a league against him? It almost seemed so. Here was the housekeeper testifying to a remarkable resemblance between this girl and Mrs. Field, just as he was firmly settled in the conclusion that she was a rank impostor. He said, sharply: “You must be mistaken!” “I am not. I never saw a resemblance more strongly marked than this girl bears to Mrs. Field as I remember her.” “What has been said to you about this girl?” “Nothing.” “You are sure?” “I am.” “Not even one word?” With a different inflection, she repeated: “Not even one word!” “Has it not been suggested to your mind that this girl is the child who went away with Mrs. Field?” “It has not, even by a look.” Nick bit his lip. As fast as he built one thing it was knocked down by something else. But, come what might, the letter purporting to come from Mr. Field, and shown by this girl, was a forgery! This fact there was no gainsaying. The points of difference were too distinctly defined to admit of the slightest question. It was written with different ink! A steel pen had been used! The test applied to the ink proved that part of it. And while a quill pen always leaves a soft and wavy edge to the lines it produces, a steel one makes a line that is clear-cut, distinct and sharply defined. The difference between the two was so great that it was not possible to make a mistake. Leaving the housekeeper, he sought Barnes again, and taking him so suddenly as to give him no time for preparation, he said: “I understand that you have introduced Miss Doane as the daughter of Mr. Field!” Without a particle of hesitation, Barnes rejoined: “It is not the case, for I have not said a word to anybody, and, I may say, have not so much as implied it by a look.” “Not even to the housekeeper?” “Not even to her. A funny circumstance, though, is that the minute she saw Miss Doane she gave a start and for a second or two I thought she was going to take her into her arms and hug her.” Nick turned away. He was far from being in good humor. Each individual whom he questioned appeared to corroborate everything said by any other that was in opposition to the theories he had formed. After a moment’s thought he decided to see Miss Doane, and he sent for her to come to the parlor. When she had arrived he greeted her pleasantly. “Miss Doane, I would like to ask you a few questions.” “You are at liberty to do so.” “I would like to know a little something further in regard to your past life.”