"Yes. It belongs to a Mr. Brand."
"Brand!" said Fane, looking at Calvert. "Why, that is the name you mentioned just now!"
"Yes," said the young man with an effort. "I have a cousin called Flora Brand."
"Dear me," said Mrs. Fane in her cold way. "I wonder if she can be the miserable creature who was murdered in this room."
"Julia!" Fane started to his feet. "What do you mean?"
"Don't grow excited, my dear," she replied in her soothing tones. "But it seems that Mrs. Brand has disappeared. The writer of the letter doesn't describe her to the police; but inquiries are being made. Perhaps she may be the dead woman. How strange that she should have died in this room, when she has one of her own furnished exactly the same. This room was your own idea, Walter?"
"Yes," he replied, looking puzzled, "my own idea. And I don't know Mrs. Brand. How came she to have a similar room?"
Arnold took up his hat.
"I'll find that out," he said.
When he left the room, husband and wife looked at one another.