"I do not intend to live on my wife," he said sharply. "Until I can keep her in the style to which she has been accustomed, I will not marry her." Fane laughed rather weakly. "As things stand at present there is not much chance of your becoming a wealthy man," he said. "Perhaps. And yet I don't know. I may come in for money." "Really!" said Walter with interest; "some relative?" Arnold nodded. "A cousin on my mother's side. A man called Brand." Fane, who had been listening quietly, started from his seat. "What!" "A man called Brand. He lives in Australia, and is very rich. I think the money will come to me, or to a cousin of mine--a woman." Fane was quiet again by this time. "I knew a man called Brand once. He was a scoundrel who cheated me out of a lot of money. A young man he was, with green eyes." "Can't be any relative of mine," said Calvert. "I never saw my cousin in Australia, but he looks a kindly man from his portrait. Not at all the sort to have green eyes. As to Flora's eyes, they are brown." "Flora," said Fane idly; "what a pretty name! Who is she?" "The cousin I told you of. The money may come to her. She lives at Hampstead, but I have never been to her house." "How is that?" "I only became aware of her existence some months ago," said Arnold lightly. "We met by chance, and--but it's a long story. But we learned that we were relations, and I promised to call." "But you didn't?" "No. Something always came in the way. But I dare say if Flora came in for the money she would help me. I might chuck the stage, and get a start--read for the bar, perhaps. Then I could marry Laura." "Have you any capabilities for the bar?" asked Fane. "For instance, what do you think of this murder?" Arnold threw up his hand. "Don't ask me," he said abruptly; "I have heard nothing else discussed but that murder for days. I am perfectly sick of it. What is your opinion?" "I don't know--I haven't one. The whole thing is a mystery to me. All I know is that the death in this room has so sickened me, that I intend to give up the villa and go abroad to Switzerland." "An inland place. That will rather interfere with your yachting." "Before Fane could answer, the door opened, and Mrs. Fane, serene as ever, entered with an evening paper in her hand. She started a trifle when she saw Arnold, but bowed gracefully. "So pleased to see you," she said with conventional falseness. "I must send Laura to you. She is dying to see you." "I have seen her, Mrs. Fane. I am now going away." "Oh!" Mrs. Fane smiled agreeably. "You have quarrelled." "No, but----" "Never mind--never mind!" interrupted Walter irritably. "What is the matter, Julia?" "She laid her cool hand on his head. "How hot your brow is," she said soothingly. "You have never been yourself since this horrid murder." "We agreed not to talk of it again," said Fane, moving his head from under her hand.