"Well, he is. I did work with him at one time, and he appears to have his wits about him. But this case will be beyond his wits as it is beyond mine. I dare say Mr. Calvert would offer a reward, and I should like to earn it. But"--Derrick rose and shook his head--"there's nothing to be done." Fane thought for a few minutes, his eyes on the ground. Then he went to his wife's desk and wrote out a cheque. "You deserve something for your trouble," said he, handing this to Derrick. "All I ask in return is that you should give me the photograph of the dead woman. I have a fancy to try and learn the truth myself." "Oh, I'll do that," replied the Inspector, taking the cheque with thanks; "and I'm sorry, sir, that nothing can be done. But you'll hear no more of the case. The woman is dead and buried, and the thing is forgotten. There is only one chance." "What is that?" asked Fane curiously. "The husband may return to the Hampstead house from Australia. If so, we may learn something of Mrs. Brand's past, and in her past will be found some clue leading to the detection of the assassin." "But if the husband is guilty, as you think, he will not return." "True enough. Should he return, I will take it as a proof of his innocence. Well, good-day, sir." "Wait," said Fane, passing through the door along with his visitor, "I will walk a little way with you. Tell me if you intend to have the house watched." "The house at Hampstead, sir?" "Yes. Brand will come back there if he comes at all." "If you like I can have it watched, Mr. Fane; but it will cost money." "You can rely on me for the expense," said Fane eagerly. "I am most anxious that no stone should be left unturned. Watch the house, and when the man returns there let me know." "You can depend upon my doing that, Mr. Fane." "The two men were by this time at the door. As Fane opened it, he found a man on the step just raising his hand to ring the bell. The stranger was tall and dark, and unknown to Fane. Is there anything I can do for you?" asked the master of the house. "I wish to see Mrs. Fane on business," said Bocaros, for it was he. "Ah! something to do with the office, no doubt," replied Fane, and beckoned to the footman, who now stood ready to close the door. "Take this gentleman's card to your mistress. She is in the White Room." The footman did as he was bidden, and Bocaros waited in the hall. Fane went out with the Inspector, and walked along Achilles Avenue talking eagerly. Bocaros sat down with rather a bewildered look, and passed his lean hand across his face. It seemed to him that he knew Fane's face, yet he was unaware of having met him before. "But his face seems familiar," muttered Bocaros. "Where can I have seen him?" And he searched his memory vainly.