The White Room

"Did you find nothing to lead you to think who killed Mrs. Brand?"

Fane hesitated. "I can hardly say," he said, feeling in his watchpocket, "but as you know so much you may as well know all."

"We must know all for your safety."

"You believe I am guiltless?"

"Yes," said Arnold slowly, "I think you are, seeing that your story is consistent. But we'll see. I will do nothing publicly for the sake of your wife and Laura. What did you find?"

Fane took out his watch-chain and produced an old-fashioned, small round locket of pale gold. "That was in the hand of Flora," he said. "I expect she grasped at it when the murderer struck at her."

"There was a struggle, then," said Calvert, and opened the locket. He gave a cry: "Calvert, it's Mrs. Baldwin's face!"

Tracey started also. Sure enough it was the face of Mrs. Baldwin only much younger-looking. "I said a woman did it," murmured Tracey heavily, "but I never thought it would be that woman. Yet she might be the one."

CHAPTER XX

THE HOUSE IN THE FIELDS

While these events were taking place, Professor Bocaros was having rather an unpleasant time with Emily Doon. One morning she came crying to him, with the information that Mrs. Fane had dismissed her for her treachery. "And it's all your fault," said Emily.

"I am very sorry," began the professor.

"What's the use of sorrow?" lamented Miss Doon. "Will sorrow keep bread and butter in my mouth? I have been dismissed without a character, and where am I to go?"

"There's your sister-"

"Oh, thank you, baron," flamed up the girl; "but I can arrange my own affairs. You had no business telling Mrs. Fane. Had I known you intended to play me so dirty a trick I should not have spoken."

"It was necessary that I should do so, for my schemes."

"Well, and what are your schemes coming to? Here am I without a situation, and with hardly a penny. I shan't go to Fanny's. She would keep me toiling and moiling in her horrid lodging-house from morning to night. I am not used to hard work. Keep your promise and marry me."

"I am only too glad to do that," said Bocaros quickly. "You know that I love you very dearly."

"You wouldn't treat me so badly if you did. What about the money?"

Bocaros frowned. "I can't say yet," he said. "But get that money I will. As to your dismissal, I shall see Mrs. Fane and put it right."

"Not with her," said Emily, rising. "She's a hard one, she is, and I shan't go back to be sneered at. Money or no money, I marry you."

"But if I don't get the money," said Bocaros doubtfully.

"I'll still have the title, and one can do so much with the title."

"The professor seized her wrist. When you marry me you will have to behave yourself," he said. "I am not going to give you my honoured name for you to drag in the mud."

"I'll do as I like," gasped Emily defiantly.

"You will not. Become my wife if you choose, for I love you too well to give you up, money or no money. But once you are the Baroness Bocaros, you will be above suspicion. Play me false, soil my name, and I'll kill you."

"You look just the sort to kill a woman," said Miss Doon, wrenching her hand away. "For all I know, you killed that cousin of yours to get the money."

The professor shook her hard. "How dare you say that!" he exclaimed furiously. "I do not know who killed my cousin. But I more than suspect Arnold Calvert. I spoke to your mistress. She can prove much, and she will. The money-the money-" Bocaros convulsively opened and shut his hand. "I must have that money."

"Well," said Emily, rising to go, "you hear me. I'm going to Fanny for a week, and I shall expect to hear from you. I'll marry you as soon as you can get the licence, and I'll behave as I like."

"No," said Bocaros savagely.

"Yes," she retorted. "Don't you think I'm a fool, baron, because I'm not. I can play my own game. If you don't marry me, I'll tell the police what I told you."

"You'll ruin your mistress if you do."

"She's ruined me," retorted Miss Doon, her hand on the door, "and I always pay my debts. I don't know what game you are playing, but, as I say, I can play my own."

Bocaros made a dash at her, but she was too quick for him. With wonderful dexterity she whipped through the door, and was outside, walking rapidly away, before he had time to recover from his rage. He went back to his chair, and flung himself down with a curse. Mrs. Fane had evidently played him false, since she had behaved so with her maid. Bocaros had thought she was in his power, but the dismissal of Emily showed that Mrs. Fane was quite prepared to make the matter public. If this were the case, she might not be ready to assist him in punishing Arnold, since she would not care to be mixed up with a murder case. And the whole chance of getting the money out of Calvert lay in the fact of the matter being kept quiet. From Arnold's demeanour Bocaros did not think he was guilty, but he fancied he could frighten him, and so gain his ends. But if Mrs. Fane made the whole affair public, Calvert might-and probably would-face the worst. No money would be forthcoming then. So Bocaros sat gnawing his fingers, filled with perplexing thoughts and looking old and worn.

"I'll see Jasher," he said to himself, "and tell him all. He may see a way out of the matter. I'll write to him to come here this evening."

So saying, the professor sat down and wrote a letter, which he directed to the Private Inquiry-Office. He closed the envelope and stamped it, and then returned to his seat. Hardly had he sat down when a sharp knock came to the door. Glancing through the window, the professor saw Calvert and Tracey on the step. Here was the very man he was wishing to circumvent putting his head into the lion's mouth. But Bocaros did not like the presence of Tracey, as the American was so sharp. He could deal with Arnold, but Tracey was beyond him. At first he decided to remain quiet in the hope that the two men would depart, but his curiosity got the better of his prudence, and he opened the door, to be met by the smile of Luther.

"Well, professor, and how are you?" said Luther, stepping inside without an invitation. "I have brought Mr. Calvert to see you. We want to say a few words."

"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Calvert," said Bocaros, very much on his guard from this polite demeanour of Tracey. "Come in. I hope you will excuse my humble abode. With your money, you are used to palaces."

"Only to Bloomsbury lodgings," said Arnold, taking a seat. "You forget I have only come into my kingdom lately. By the way, was not that Mrs. Fane's maid I saw leaving your house?"

"It was. She came on an errand."

"Arnold glanced curiously at the man. He did not know the truth, nor could he guess what errand had brought Miss Doon to this lonely house. He was seated near the window, and the professor went to get another chair. Tracey, who was walking about, spied the letter to Jasher on the desk. Taking it up, he looked at the address, then without a moment's hesitation slipped it into his pocket. Arnold did not see this proceeding, or he might have objected. But Luther had considered the matter. He suspected Bocaros, and wondered what devilry he was up to in corresponding with Jasher. He therefore took the letter to read at his leisure, and should it be harmless he would send it on. But Tracey was unscrupulous, and thinking he was dealing with a rogue, resolved-as in the present instance-to beat him with his own weapons. Having thus accomplished his purpose, he returned to his seat, when Bocaros, with an extra chair, entered the room.

"Well, gentlemen," said the professor when seated, "what can I do?"

"That's rather a difficult question to answer, professor," said Calvert, signing to Tracey to hold his too fluent tongue. "Mr. Tracey and I have come to see you about this murder."

"What have I to do with it?" asked Bocaros coldly.

"Well, you asked me to search for the criminal, and said if I did not, you would do so yourself. Have you?"

"Yes," replied Bocaros, "I have searched with Jasher. From all I have learned, sir-since we are to speak plainly-I think you are the guilty person."

"And if I am, professor, what will you do?"

"Bocaros rose. I don't exactly know. I hate you for killing Flora, who was a charming woman; but since you are a relative of mine-"

"Only a relative by marriage," interrupted Calvert. "That hardly counts, I think."

"Still, you are a relative," persisted the professor, "so I am willing to hush the matter up."