Hart started. "Why, nothing. Only some of our chaps were ragging him about getting away that evening to meet a girl." "Did he deny that he was going to do so?" "No. He laughed and coloured. A shy chap is Calvert." Bocaros intervened. "Can you tell me what night this was?" "What do you want to know for?" asked Hart suspiciously. "It's merely curiosity," said Jasher smoothly; "you needn't trouble about the matter, if you don't like." "I don't care two straws," said Hart, with a good-natured laugh, "but I can't understand what you fellows are driving at. Catch me forgetting the night I got my chance. It was the 24th of July." "Jasher and Bocaros looked significantly at one another, but the interchange was lost on Hart, who was attending to his wine. The conversation then drifted into subjects connected with Mr. Hart's career, and he finally departed quite unaware that he had been made use of. "What do you think now?" asked Bocaros triumphantly. "Well, Calvert was absent on that night, and he resembles the young man who lured Mulligan away. Also he wears a dagger in the second act of the play which he might have used." "He did use it," said the professor positively; "the wound was made by a stiletto, according to the medical evidence. It is a stiletto he wears. And he was absent between six and half-past nine, the very time the doctor said the woman was killed. Besides," went on Bocaros excitedly, "Calvert knows Fane very well. He might have thus obtained possession of the key." "Fane swore it was never out of his possession. "He may have done that to shield Calvert, seeing the man is going to marry Miss Mason." "True enough," said Jasher, rising. "Well, Calvert himself has given me the funds to prosecute the search. It will be queer if I run him down. I guess he'll be willing to let sleeping dogs lie if I do run him to earth." "No," said the professor determinedly; "if Calvert is guilty he must be punished." "You leave matters in my hands," retorted Jasher, his good-natured face growing black. "I'm going to make money out of this." Bocaros changed the subject, for no apparent reason. "How did you get money to prosecute your inquiries?" "Calvert told his solicitors to give me what I wanted. I saw Merry, and obtained a cheque for fifty. That's enough to go on with." "What do you intend to do now?" "Go to his lodgings and see what his landlady knows." Bocaros thought. "There's another thing you might do," said he. "I know that Emily Doon is the sister of Calvert's landlady. You might question her. She will be with her sister to-morrow, and, as you know, she is Mrs. Fane's maid." Jasher looked keenly at the professor. "That's the girl you are sweet on," he said smiling. "What if I am?" returned Bocaros sharply; "she is a nice, good girl, and handsome. She adores me," cried Bocaros, on whose head the unaccustomed champagne had taken effect, "and I will marry her when I am rich." "Will you ever be rich?"