The White Room

"There is no conspiracy," protested Bocaros. "I merely wished to get back my own."

"Ah, you look upon the ten thousand a year as your own," said Arnold; "may I ask how you make that out?"

"Flora left the money to me."

"She did, and changed her mind. How did you induce her to make a will in your favour?"

"It was her own good heart."

"Rubbish!" said Arnold roughly; "if you tell lies, professor, I won't help you. Come-the truth now."

Bocaros meditated. He wanted money badly, and if he went abroad-and Calvert had the power to force him to take such a course-he would certainly starve. The school, small as the salary was, kept him alive; but even this slender means of subsistence would be taken from him should he be banished from England. And by the stern faces of the two men, he saw very well that he would be judged with justice. He therefore made up his mind to earn the money by telling the truth. Anything was better than starvation, even loss of dignity. But for all that, and although he was fallen from his high estate, Bocaros kept up a dignified appearance, and spoke in his best style.

"I met my cousin, as I told you before," he said, "and I frequently went to see her."

"Why did you say you only paid three visits?" asked Calvert.

"For obvious reasons," said Tracey; "he wanted to keep his cards under the table."

"I don't know what you mean," said the professor quietly; "but I admit that I did not wish you to learn the part I had taken in this matter. I visited my cousin frequently. I saw a portrait of her husband, and recognised Mr. Fane."

"Where did you see him?"

"One day-no, on two occasions, I saw him walking with Miss Mason. I asked who he was. She told me her brother-in-law. When I saw Fane while calling on Mrs. Fane the other day I remembered his face again. But for the moment I forgot where I had seen him."

"Come now," cried Luther, "you couldn't forget a face like that-especially the face of a man whom you were trying to ruin."

"Bocaros put his hand to his head. My brain is not very clear at times," he faltered. "I often think I will take leave of my senses. I assure you, gentlemen, that I forgot where I had seen Mr. Fane when we came face to face the other day."

"Well, it doesn't matter," said Tracey, seeing that the man spoke truly; "go on, and tell us what you did."

"I said nothing to Mrs. Brand for a time, although I knew that her husband was married to another woman. She and her husband did not get on well together, and I did not want to make them more unhappy. Then she inherited the money, and before that Brand went presumably to Australia."

"He was here under the name of Fane," said Arnold.

"He was. I saw him at times. Well, Flora got the money. I wanted some. She talked of making a will in her husband's favour, for she still loved him. I then hinted that he was married. She nearly went out of her mind. I refused to tell her the truth until she made a will in my favour. She did. And she treated me very badly," burst out Bocaros, warm with the memory of his wrongs; "she changed the will after she got the truth out of me. When I heard of her death, I quite thought the money would come to me. Instead of that-"

"It was a case of the biter bit," said Arnold. "I think Flora did quite right. You had no right to levy blackmail."

"It was not blackmail," said Bocaros indignantly, and really he seemed to believe what he said. "I made her leave the money to me, and then I told her the truth."

"The whole truth?"

"Not then. I did not wish her to make trouble at once. I told her that her husband's real name was Fane, and that he had a wife and child. But I did not say where the house was."

"Well, what happened?"

"Fane came back as Brand, saying he had changed his mind about going to Australia. I advised Flora to take an impression of his latch-key, so that she could prove the house was Fane's, by its opening the door. She thought this a good idea. Also, she wished to get inside to see the White Room about which I had told her. She took the impression when Fane was asleep. I had the keys made."

"How many?" asked Arnold quickly; "one was sent to me by you."

"No; I did not send that. Three keys were made. One Flora kept herself, and two she gave me. I used one to enter the house myself-"

"Oh, you acknowledge you were in the house?"

"I do. I lost the other key."

"Where?" demanded Arnold, looking keenly at the man who seemed to speak in all good faith.

Bocaros again looked bewildered. "I hardly know. I left it in this room, and I never found it again."

"Did you not send the key to me?"

"No; I swear I did not."

"Then who did?"

"I can't say. The key was left here, and lost. I used the other."

"H'm!" said Arnold, after a pause. "Go on, and tell us about your doings on that night. We can talk of the missing key later. What happened?"

"I appointed to meet Mrs. Brand in the garden. She had the key, and so had I. She told me that she had written asking her husband to come up. She sent the letter to Ajax Villa, and thought it would be sent on. I was annoyed at this."

"Did she tell you this when you met?"

"No; because we did not meet on that night."

"How was that?"

"I was kept till late at the school and could not get away. It was ten o'clock before I left, as I could not get away earlier although I pleaded an engagement. I thought Flora would enter the house and wait. I arrived a few minutes after ten, and saw the light burning, I then thought she was waiting. I entered with my own key, and went upstairs to where the light was. It was the White Room. There I saw Flora dead-stabbed under the left shoulder-blade. On seeing this I grew afraid, and came away at once."

"Oh!" said Arnold, after another pause; "so it was you Fane heard in the house after ten o'clock?"

"I was there after ten, and I went away early at half-past."

"Who was with you?" asked Tracey; "Fane said there were two men."

"I was alone," said Bocaros; "there was no one with me. All happened as I say. I grew afraid, seeing that I was Flora's cousin, and that it was I who had brought her to the house. Also, I had got the keys for her, and she had made a will in my favour. I fancied if I were found I would be arrested and hanged."

"There was certainly enough evidence to hang you," said Calvert. "I also was afraid when I found the body; I fled also. We all seemed to have lost our heads."

"I don't think you did, Calvert," said Tracey, "considering the slim way you lured that policeman away. Well, professor, did you see any one in the house?"

"Not a soul. I was there only for a quarter of an hour or so."

Luther nodded. "Yes; Fane said he heard you go out. But Fane fancied there were two men."

"I was alone," said the professor positively, and the others believed him. He had no reason to tell lies, seeing the position in which he was placed. His only chance of safety lay in telling the truth-the exact truth, and he appeared to be doing so.