"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?"
"If Calvert is the man who killed Flora Brand, yes," said Bocaros, and with a grim smile he departed. Jasher looked after him and shrugged his shoulders.