"You had plenty of time. You can drive a motor-car, madame, as I know, so you took Mr. Tracey's and went to Charing-Cross Station----" "On the way to Westcliff-on-Sea. Rather a roundabout way." "Madame, you are very clever, and wished to avert suspicion. You left the car in the station yard, and then took the underground to Liverpool Street Station, where you caught the midnight express to Southend." Mrs. Fane changed colour at this explicit relation, and rose to her feet. "You seem to know a great deal about my movements," said she coolly. "I have satisfied myself in every respect," said Bocaros, bowing. "And you say I was in this room on that night--that I sang?" "Yes, you sang 'Kathleen Mavourneen.'" "Then let me tell you, Professor Bocaros, or baron, if you call yourself so, that you are quite wrong. I was at Westcliff-on-Sea in my drawing-room all the evening, miles away from this house. I never came to London, I did not admit Mr. Calvert into this house, and I never sang." Bocaros shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands apologetically. "You will compel me to go to the police if you deny these things." Mrs. Fane turned on him in a cold fury. "You fool," she snarled, "do you think I would deny unless I could prove all I say? You declare that I sang on that night. Well, you shall hear the song." So speaking, she crossed over the room and went behind a white velvet curtain that hung over a kind of alcove. Wondering what she intended to do, Bocaros sat and waited. He was astonished at her courage and resolution, and began to think she might escape him after all. If she did, he would not be able to prove the guilt of Arnold, since Mrs. Fane alone could testify to his presence in the house. As he considered, notes of music were heard behind the curtain. Mrs. Fane's voice--a splendid contralto--rose in song. With great power and expression she sang "Kathleen Mavourneen." Suddenly the curtain was drawn aside and she appeared. But the song still continued, although she was not singing. "Is that the song?" she asked, mockingly. "Madame----" stammered Bocaros, quite astounded and rising. "And is this the singer?" she asked, pointing to herself. "See." With a quick movement she tore the curtain completely aside, and Bocaros beheld a large phonograph pouring out the song. He gasped and staggered back overwhelmed. Mrs. Fane advanced, smiling scornfully. "I think you understand now," she said, seating herself, "how it was that my voice was heard on that night in this room. Several of my songs are registered in that instrument. I amuse my child with them. It seems that I managed to deceive the police and you also, you fool. I wonder, seeing how hurriedly the accompaniment is played between the verses, that the police did not guess the truth. Well, what now?"