"There is another cousin, isn't there?" "Yes. Arnold Calvert, an actor." Merry's eyes travelled to the tin box. "I must write him at once." "Why? Has he anything to do with the will?" Merry opened his mouth to reply, when a clerk entered with a card. "Professor Bocaros," read the solicitor, and smiled. "Ah! This is Mrs. Brand's cousin. He has come to see about the will. You can leave me, Sammy. And I say, just drop a note to Mr. Calvert at the Frivolity Theatre asking him to call." Sammy nodded, and passed out. As he did so Professor Bocaros stood aside. Young Merry looked at the lean figure and solemn face of the Greek, and then at the blazing eyes. He gave his opinion to himself as the door closed on the client. "I shouldn't like to be in your power," said Sammy. "I wonder if you inherit." Merry shook hands warmly with the professor, and placed a chair for him. "It's a fine day. I am glad to see you, sir. Your cousin, poor woman, often spoke of you to us." "Did she?" said Bocaros, looking keenly at the genial face of the lawyer. "That is strange, considering we saw so little of one another. By the way, your phrase--poor woman--leads me to believe that you have heard from the police." "No. I have read in this paper of the identification of Mrs. Brand with the woman who was murdered in Troy;" and Merry laid his hand on the _Daily Budget_. "I suppose you have come to see me about the matter. How did you learn the news?" "In the same way. A friend of mine brought the paper to me." "Oh!" Merry looked sharply in his turn. "Did this friend know that you were Mrs. Brand's cousin?" "He did not. I usually get the paper every day from my landlady, Mrs. Baldwin. I occupy a small house on her estate in Cloverhead----" "Where is that, sir?" "Near Troy. In fact it is the village around which Troy is built." "Oh!" Merry looked surprised. "Do you mean to say you live in Troy?" "I do. And not a stone-throw away from the house where poor Flora was murdered." "Flora--ah, Mrs. Brand. I forgot her Christian name for the moment. So you live there--a strange coincidence," said Merry cautiously. "So strange that I have come to ask you what I am to do," said the professor, in his agitated way. "You will believe me, sir, that I know nothing of the murder. All I know about it I read in the papers, and gathered from Mr. Tracey." "Who is he?" "The engineer whose motor-car was stolen and found in Charing Cross yard," said Bocaros. "The police said----" "I remember. Their theory was that the murderer escaped in the car. But they didn't prove that at the inquest. Some one else might have taken the car, though, to be sure, its abandonment in the station yard looks as though the person merely wished to make use of it for escape. However, that's not the point. You heard about the crime from Mr. Tracey?"