“And recognized her as your daughter?” “Yes.” “You would swear to her being your child?” “I would.” The woman spoke in the most decided way. The detective said: “There is no possibility that you could be mistaken?” “None in the world.” “Can this be proved in any way that you know of?” “Yes, by a birthmark.” “It was known to others besides yourself?” “Yes.” “To whom, then?” “Mr. Field and all the servants who were at the tame in our service.” All this was evidence of the most positive kind that Helen Doane was really the child of Mr. Field, and not, as he had firmly believed, an impostor. That this lady was Mrs. Field, the wife who had left her husband because of his jealousy, he had no doubt whatever. But, was she not mistaken about Helen Doane? Come what might, that letter brought by the girl to prove her kinship was a forgery! That was a fact about which there could be no doubt. And, as it was a forgery, did not her possession of it imply that she was a party in the guilty transaction? It certainly was strong evidence. As he sat there he asked himself if it was not possible that Helen was really the daughter and yet a schemer? It was hardly reasonable that she should be, for as Mr. Field was only too desirous of finding wife or child, or both, there was no need of her doing anything underhanded if by coming to her father she could prove her identity by so excellent testimony as a birthmark of which he knew and with the appearance of which he could be presumed to be familiar. The more Nick twisted the case, the more inexplicable it became. Having thanked the lady, he took the trouble to see and speak with one of the servants, the same one with whom he had talked before and with whom he had been favorably impressed. On asking her about the birthmark that the little Helen Field possessed, she said at once that she remembered it well. “You know it so well that you could swear to it if you saw it again?” “Yes.” “Have you ever seen it since the little Helen went away with her mother?” “Never until last night.” “You saw it then?” “I did.” “Under what circumstances?” “I was present at the meeting of Mrs. Field and her child. The birthmark being spoken of, the young lady who came here as Miss Doane removed such portion of her clothing as was necessary to show that she possessed the mark.” “There could be no mistake about this?” “There could not be.” “You would take an oath to it that Miss Helen Doane and Miss Helen Field are the same?” “I would!” “That is all.” Nick Carter left the house then and went slowly downtown, wrapped in deep thought. The clouds were growing thicker this morning, and this in spite of the fact that he felt himself near the solution of the mystery. That Helen Doane was the daughter of Mr. Field it would appear insane to doubt in the face of a recognition by her mother and an old servant who had been with her from the time of her birth until the mother left with the child.