This observation was hardly true, for Fanks was beginning to think that the affair of the green coat looked singularly like a conspiracy. He was unwilling to communicate his suspicions to Hersham, because of necessity they included Anne Colmer; therefore he passed the matter off as before mentioned. Nevertheless, he thought it doubtful that the disguise was the result of an accident. That Binjoy should suggest the idea of blackening the face, that Anne should induce Hersham to dress up in the very clothes of Caesar, both these things seemed suspicious and quite impossible to understand. He could guess Binjoy's object, presuming that Binjoy had designed the murder--it was to avert suspicion from himself and servant by throwing it on Hersham. But what Fanks could not see was why Anne should act as she did, when Hersham was her lover. She surely did not wish to implicate Hersham in the matter--if it could be presumed that she was connected with it herself, of which Fanks was by no means sure--and yet Fanks was honestly puzzled to understand the action, so at variance with her position. With his usual sense he therefore abandoned the subject for the present, and re-addressed himself to the examination of Hersham. "Did you know Dr. Binjoy?" "I did, and disliked him greatly. I don't think he liked me either," added Hersham, smiling, "for I was his successful rival." "With Miss Colmer?" "Yes! Fancy, that old man fell in love with Anne and wished to marry her; asked her to be Mrs. Binjoy four or five times, in fact. Like his impudence, wasn't it? However, Anne told him that she was engaged to me, and sent him off with a flea in his ear. I don't think he liked me any better for my triumph." "No," said Fanks, dryly. "I have no doubt he would do his best to injure you." "Fanks, do you think he designedly induced me to act as a duplicate of Caesar?" "That I can't say. It looks suspicious. His being at the Red Star on the night of the murder under an assumed name is still more suspicious. All the same he has managed the business so cleverly that I can bring nothing home to him." "Do you think that he designed the murder of Fellenger so as to get the estates for Sir Louis?" "His actions bear that interpretation," said Fanks, scratching his chin; "but I have no proof as yet. I may find out at Mere Hall." "Are you going there?" "Next week. I wish to see my employer, Sir Louis, and tell him what I have done; at the same time I intend to observe Binjoy. By the way," added the detective, "did you like Sir Louis?" Hersham shrugged his shoulders. "So, so," he replied. "He is a dry stick, wrapped up in his scientific studies. He passes most of his days with Binjoy in the laboratory making experiments. A tall, stout fellow, he is, not at all like a dry-as-dust savant." "Humph!" said Fanks, twisting his ring; "a tall stout creature. Dr. Binjoy is also tall and stout?" "Yes! and so is the negro, Caesar. The trio are all fat and healthy."