Before his brain would respond to the demand on it, the footman returned with an intimation that Mrs. Fane would see him. Bocaros followed the man upstairs and into the White Room. Here sat Mrs. Fane, cold and statuesque as usual, and alone. Minnie was out with her nurse, and Laura was paying a visit to Gerty. Beside Mrs. Fane stood a small wicker table on which a book lay open. But she was as usual engaged in knitting, and apparently preferred her own thoughts to those of the popular author whose book was beside her. When the professor entered, she rose gracefully, and looked at him keenly. "May I ask what you have to see me about?" said Mrs. Fane, putting her remark purposely in this way, so as to impress Bocaros with an idea that he was favoured. The professor bowed, and took the chair she pointed to. He had never seen Mrs. Fane before, and thought her a singularly lovely woman, as she decidedly was. Also from her stern lips and piercing eyes he judged that she was a woman who would ruthlessly carry out any scheme which she had formed, and would press forward dauntlessly in the face of all dangers. A clever woman, a dangerous woman, and a foe worthy to be met and conquered. That he would conquer even this Amazon the professor did not doubt. He knew too much for her to deny, and since his interview with Emily Doon he had spent the time in getting certain proofs together. Mrs. Fane might be clever, but she would not be able to defend herself in the face of the facts he proposed to place before her. Bocaros, feeling his way carefully, did not reply at once to her question. "You will see my name on the card," he said quietly. "Professor Bocaros," read Mrs. Fane. "I never heard of you." "Did not Miss Mason mention me?" "I don't recall her having done so." "Strange," said the man. "I am a tenant of Mrs. Baldwin." "My sister is a friend of Mrs. Baldwin," replied Mrs. Fane, "but it is not to be thought that she interests herself in Mrs. Baldwin's private affairs." "I live in the little house across the fields." "That is very interesting," said Mrs. Fane sarcastically, and wondering why the man kept telling her things of no note; "and you are a foreigner--a Greek. Bocaros----" "Constantine Bocaros." Then the Professor, feeling nettled by this behaviour, resolved to startle her. "I am the cousin of the woman who was murdered in this room," he said abruptly. But Mrs. Fane merely raised her eyebrows. "And you have no doubt come to gratify your morbid curiosity by seeing the place where she was struck down. Yonder it is, near the piano. Pray look, sir, and then leave me. I do not show my house for this purpose to chance visitors." "Bocaros, meeting her on her own ground, sauntered to the piano with a kind of cool insolence that made Mrs. Fane observe him attentively. "I suppose you know that Mr. Calvert comes in for ten thousand a year by the death of Mrs. Brand?" said Bocaros, returning to his seat. "I have heard so."