Tracey whistled, and stared. In making the communication to the man, he was far from expecting that this announcement would be made. "I guess you know who killed her then?" he observed coolly. Bocaros leaped to his feet. "Man," he cried fiercely, "what is that you say? How should I know who killed her?"
"You're her cousin, and Derrick says in the woman's past life will be found the motive for the crime."
"I know very little of my cousin's past life," said Bocaros, walking rapidly to and fro, and apparently much moved. "What I do know I shall tell to the police."
"Tell it to me now," suggested the American.
The professor looked at him mistrustfully. "I don't know if you are a good person to make a confidant of."
"Bless you, there's no confidence about this, professor. You'll have to tell the police what you know, and they'll put it all in print."
"True! True!" Bocaros took a turn up and down the room, then passed his lean hand through his long hair. "Mr. Tracey, you are a clever man. I can rely on you to help me."
"Help you!" Tracey looked sharply at the professor. "What's that?"
"I mean help me with the police. I am not accustomed to deal with these matters. They will ask me questions."
"Well, what if they do? You can answer them, I reckon."