"So she says," replied Cass, pouring himself out some beer; "but I beg leave to doubt that artless pose. It is my firm conviction that she knew of old Moxton's repentance and eleventh-hour testament, that she got her husband to make his will in her favour, and that she induced her lover, Zirknitz, to put him out of the way so that they might enjoy the money together. It is to reap the fruits of the crime that she stays on here, Bob." "That is all theory." "So was my earlier statement, yet it has been proved true by yourself. I daresay M. Zirknitz came to see Mrs. Moxton in the evening when her husband was at the Merryman Music-Hall." "I never heard of that place, Harry." "Perhaps not. It has been in existence only for two years. The usual variety entertainment, you know. A man called Otto Schwartz keeps it." "A German?" "A typical lager-beer German. Not at all a bad fellow, either." Dr. Ellis slowly lighted his pipe. "I wonder why Moxton went so regularly to that place?" he said reflectively. "Well, he might have gone there to make love to one of the ladies who do the turns, but I rather think," said Cass, significantly, "that his object was to gamble. From all his wife says about Monte Carlo and other places the man was a confirmed card-sharper." "But gambling is not allowed in London." "No doubt. A good many vices are not allowed in this most immaculate of cities, in this Tartuffe of capitals, but they exist all the same. I don't know for certain, nobody does, but it is rumoured that there is a secret gambling-hell connected with the apparently innocent music-hall of Herr Schwartz's." Ellis glanced at his watch. "It is getting on for eight o'clock," he remarked. "Let us go to Soho to-night." "If you like. I have no particular engagement. But your reason?" "I want to learn all I can about Moxton. If he went there to gamble, Herr Schwartz will know of him. Also we might learn something of Zirknitz. As the book proves, the autograph also, he was a friend of Moxton's, so it is not unlikely he went with him to this secret hell you talk of." "Very good; let us go at once," said Cass, rising. "But as you and I seem to have become amateur detectives, let us conduct our case with due discretion. There is one piece of evidence we have overlooked." "What is that?" "The cab-stand." "The cab-stand! And what has that to do with the murder?" "Bob! Bob! You can write about eyes and their diseases, but you cannot make use of your own optics. It is probable that the murderer of Moxton, this Zirknitz, wished to get away as speedily as possible from the scene of his crime, so it is equally probable that he made for the cab-stand." "Or the railway station." "That is much further away. The cab-stand is comparatively near the Jubilee Road." "But no cabman came forward at the inquest."