"And if I refuse to pay you or Jasher?" asked Arnold. "I shall ask Jasher to see Inspector Derrick and tell what we know." Arnold looked curiously at Bocaros, and wondered at the hardihood of his threat. "Merely out of curiosity, professor, I should like to know what evidence you have against me." "That is easy," said Bocaros promptly. "You were not at the theatre till after nine, and Flora was killed before then. The money you wanted very badly. I heard about the stage dagger from Mrs. Fane's maid, and I know you used it, and----" "Wait," said Arnold quickly. "All these things I can disprove by an _alibi_. I was at my rooms till nearly half-past nine, as my landlady, Mrs. Varney, can prove. I then went down and finished acting the part, when Hart was unexpectedly taken ill." "But you were at the house," said Bocaros savagely. "Yes; later. But Mrs. Brand was murdered before nine by your own showing, professor, so you can prove nothing against me." "I can make your doings on that night public," said the other, feeling the money slipping away from him. "Hardly, unless you want to find yourself in a very unpleasant position, my good man." "What do you mean?" "I mean that Mrs. Brand left a diary behind her, which was discovered by me and Mr. Tracey. In it, she relates your visits to her--and you paid more than two, professor." "What if I did visit her?" said Bocaros, the perspiration rising on his forehead. "She was my cousin, and----" "And you had every right to do so. Quite so. But had you a right to tell her about Fane?" "Fane?" stammered the Greek, completely taken aback. "Yes. You knew before July that Fane and Brand were one and the same." "I did not--I did not." "I guess you did," said Tracey; "see here, professor, what's the use of slinging lies? I guess we've got the bulge on you this trip. Mrs. B.'s diary gave away the whole thing, and now we have come to ask what you were doing in the house on the night of the murder?" "Or, to put it plainly," said Arnold quietly, "why you killed Flora?" Bocaros, as Fane had done before him, leaped to his feet. "I did not kill the woman! I swear I did not." "Fane said the same thing." "But Fane did. He was in the house." "How do you know that?" asked Luther; and Bocaros, seeing he had gone too far, was silent. "I reckon," went on the American, "that this is what the law calls a conspiracy. You've been building up card-castles to get that money, and they've tumbled. Now it's our turn to threaten to make things public, professor, and if you don't speak out you will be arrested." "I arrested!" gasped Bocaros, stepping back a pace. "Yes--for murder," said Arnold solemnly. "I did not kill her."