"I live in the little house across the fields."
"That is very interesting," said Mrs. Fane sarcastically, and wondering why the man kept telling her things of no note; "and you are a foreigner--a Greek. Bocaros----"
"Constantine Bocaros." Then the Professor, feeling nettled by this behaviour, resolved to startle her. "I am the cousin of the woman who was murdered in this room," he said abruptly.
But Mrs. Fane merely raised her eyebrows. "And you have no doubt come to gratify your morbid curiosity by seeing the place where she was struck down. Yonder it is, near the piano. Pray look, sir, and then leave me. I do not show my house for this purpose to chance visitors."
"Bocaros, meeting her on her own ground, sauntered to the piano with a kind of cool insolence that made Mrs. Fane observe him attentively.
"I suppose you know that Mr. Calvert comes in for ten thousand a year by the death of Mrs. Brand?" said Bocaros, returning to his seat.
"I have heard so."
"And he is engaged to marry your sister?"
"Mrs. Fane could not stand any more of this intrusion into her private affairs, and rose. Will you please to state your business and go!"
"There is no need to speak to me like that, madame," said Bocaros, keeping his seat. "My cousin left me the money--afterwards she changed her mind and made a new will, leaving it to Calvert."