"It is not a question of love," he interrupted imperiously. "How can I marry you and bring you to this hovel?" "I should not come. Give me a good home and----" "Well," he interrupted again impatiently, "the chance of obtaining a good home lies in your hands. I swear I will make you a baroness if you will help me to get the money." Emily fenced. "Do you think Mr. Calvert is guilty?" she asked. "Yes, decidedly. I am as sure of that, as I am that Mrs. Fane was in the room assisting him to escape." "But why should she do that?" "Because she loves him----" "Oh, good gracious!" Miss Doon started from her seat. "Really, that is impossible." "I tell you she loves him," repeated Bocaros grimly, "and that is why she is so averse to her sister marrying him. Calvert got to know that the will was made in his favour, and lured Flora to the White Room. There Calvert or Mrs. Fane killed her--don't shriek." "I must," said Miss Doon excitedly. "Do you think that Mrs. Fane--Oh, I can't believe--And yet----" "Ah! Then she _was_ up in town on that night?" "I never said so," retorted Emily promptly. "What is the use of fencing in this way?" cried Bocaros roughly. "I am sure that my guess is correct. I was certain after what you let slip to Jasher, and----" "She has been a good mistress to me," said Emily, crying. "Because she chose to. But she is a hard and cruel woman!" "She's all that. She would kill me, did she know that I told." "Bah! Once in the hands of the law she can do nothing. Come, Emily, my dear wife that is to be, tell me. She was in town." "Yes," confessed Emily. Then, having taken the leap, she hurried on: "I will tell you all now, but mind you keep your promise. If you don't, I will deny everything; and you can't do without me." The professor kissed her hand gravely. "I have no wish to do without you, my dear," he said. "Go on; tell me all." "When we were at the seaside," said Miss Doon, sitting down again, "I noticed that the mistress was worried. She got worse and worse, and always quarrelled with her husband." "Was he with her all the time?" "Yes. On the twenty-fourth----" "The time of the murder," said Bocaros, under his breath. "Mr. Fane received a letter which made him turn pale. I took the letters up to him in the morning-room, as the man asked me to. When he opened the letter he turned pale, and put it into his pocket. Mrs. Fane was in the room. She looked sharply at him, but said nothing. But when I left they had a quarrel. At all events, Mrs. Fane looked furious all the day. Mr. Fane said he was ill with a cold----" "Was he really ill?" asked the professor suspiciously.