Laura sat down still gazing at him, but did not reply. "How does my sister's maid come to be in this house?" she asked abruptly. "Your sister's maid?" he repeated, staring. "Yes; Emily Doon. I saw her in the hall as the landlady let me in. As soon as she caught sight of me she vanished down the stairs to the basement. And those two men----" "One question at a time, dear," said Arnold calmly. He had now quite recovered his composure, and was prepared to deal with the situation. "And I shall answer the last first. The men who left me are a Mr. Jasher and Professor----" "Bocaros," cried Laura, striking her gloved hands together. "I thought I knew his face. I saw him once at Mrs. Baldwin's. He lives in a cottage across the meadow, and sometimes comes to borrow her paper. What a horrid face--what a detestable man!" Arnold looked rather surprised at her vehemence. "I certainly do not like the professor, and I met him to-day for the first time. It happens oddly enough that we are connected." "Connected?" echoed Laura. "Wait; I have some sort of idea. The professor told Mr. Tracey that he was a cousin of this woman who was killed at Ajax Villa----" "Her mother was the aunt of Bocaros," explained Calvert. "And you are a cousin of the dead woman?" "She was Flora Calvert before she married Brand, the daughter of my uncle. Bocaros and I are connected in a way by marriage. As to Mrs. Fane's maid being here--we shall soon learn the reason," and he touched the button of the electric bell. Mrs. Varney, with her majestic air and false smile, answered so rapidly that it would seem she had been watching, if such a stately female would descend so low. She smiled ingratiatingly on Laura, who, without waiting for Arnold to speak, put the question. "I saw my sister's maid, Emily Doon, as I entered," she said; "what is she doing here?" "What eyes you have, miss, I declare," said Mrs. Varney in her deep voice. "Yes, miss, it is Emily. She is my younger sister. I was a Miss Doon before I became Mrs. Varney. Your sister kindly gave Emily permission to spend a happy day with me, and this afternoon we are going to a matinée--_Hamlet_," said the landlady in her most serious voice, "the whole of it--lasting five hours." Having thus stated her case, Mrs. Varney waited in the attitude of a startled fawn for a reply. Laura apologised. "I beg your pardon for asking," she said colouring; "it is, of course, none of my business, but I was naturally surprised at seeing Emily here." "Ah," Mrs. Varney cast a look at Arnold, "we know all, miss. Emily has told me. Juliet's garden--and the Forest of Arden----" "We are engaged, Mrs. Varney," said Arnold, enraged by the impertinence of the landlady.