"Jasher asked a great many questions, mostly of the sort which Luther had asked, and seemed quite puzzled. Calvert told Jasher that the American suspected a woman of having killed Mrs. Brand. This, however, Jasher shook his head at. "A woman wouldn't have the nerve," he said. "However, I'll think over that. There's Mrs. Fane, of course." "What about her?" asked Arnold angrily. "Well, sir, she (as I learn from the professor, who heard it from Miss Baldwin) hates you, and doesn't want you to marry her sister. The song sung was hers. So she might have----" "Rubbish!" said Arnold, jumping up. "I am surprised at you, man. Mrs. Fane was at Westcliff-on-Sea." "Yes; and I guess she ran away with my car," cried Tracey. "What!" said Jasher, pink to the ears. "Have you been listening?" "You bet," said Luther coolly; "had my ear to the wall the whole time. This house is a shell. Now the conversation's come round to my way of thinking, I've come to sail in. You're a smart man," said Luther, wringing the detective's hand. "I agree with you. A woman did the trick, and Mrs. Fane's the woman." Jasher felt complimented. "Well, sir, now you are in and know all, I don't mind your remaining. Mrs. Fane----" "I won't hear it," cried Arnold; "it is ridiculous!" "Don't see it," argued Tracey. "She's one of these tall women who could easily overpower a little woman like Mrs. Brand." "But what reason had she to kill Mrs. Brand?" "She wanted to lay the blame on you and stop your marriage." "Stuff and nonsense! Why should she kill Mrs. Brand for that? She did not know the woman was my cousin, or that money was coming to me; I didn't know myself till the lawyers wrote after the death." "It's a rum case altogether," said Jasher, nursing his chin on his fat hand. "I can't see my way." "I can," said Luther briskly; "you go right along and make inquiries about Mrs. Fane, and I'll go on my own. Then come here and we'll size the business up when we pool the notes." "But Mrs. Fane was at Westcliff-on-Sea," said Arnold distracted. "And she took my motor-car to get back." "To Charing Cross?" asked Jasher disbelievingly. "You bet. That was a blind. There's a late train to Westcliff-on-Sea on Saturday night. Mrs. Fane could leave this house when you, Calvert, left it about eleven. She could rip along in my flier to Charing Cross in twenty minutes, and then leaving the car there, she could take the underground to Bishopsgate to catch the late train. That's what she did. Oh, I've worked it out." "Jasher seemed struck with this speech. I'll make inquiries at Liverpool Street station," he said. "But, sir," he added, turning to Calvert, "seeing that there is a danger of your being arrested, will you go on with this case?" "Why not? I am innocent!"