"Arnold glanced curiously at the man. He did not know the truth, nor could he guess what errand had brought Miss Doon to this lonely house. He was seated near the window, and the professor went to get another chair. Tracey, who was walking about, spied the letter to Jasher on the desk. Taking it up, he looked at the address, then without a moment's hesitation slipped it into his pocket. Arnold did not see this proceeding, or he might have objected. But Luther had considered the matter. He suspected Bocaros, and wondered what devilry he was up to in corresponding with Jasher. He therefore took the letter to read at his leisure, and should it be harmless he would send it on. But Tracey was unscrupulous, and thinking he was dealing with a rogue, resolved--as in the present instance--to beat him with his own weapons. Having thus accomplished his purpose, he returned to his seat, when Bocaros, with an extra chair, entered the room.
"Well, gentlemen," said the professor when seated, "what can I do?"
"That's rather a difficult question to answer, professor," said Calvert, signing to Tracey to hold his too fluent tongue. "Mr. Tracey and I have come to see you about this murder."
"What have I to do with it?" asked Bocaros coldly.
"Well, you asked me to search for the criminal, and said if I did not, you would do so yourself. Have you?"
"Yes," replied Bocaros, "I have searched with Jasher. From all I have learned, sir--since we are to speak plainly--I think you are the guilty person."
"And if I am, professor, what will you do?"
"Bocaros rose. I don't exactly know. I hate you for killing Flora, who was a charming woman; but since you are a relative of mine----"
"Only a relative by marriage," interrupted Calvert. "That hardly counts, I think."
"Still, you are a relative," persisted the professor, "so I am willing to hush the matter up."