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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Opal Serpent, by Fergus Hume
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Opal Serpent
+
+Author: Fergus Hume
+
+Release Date: March 6, 2008 [EBook #24769]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OPAL SERPENT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Andrew Wainwright, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                             The Opal Serpent
+
+                                    By
+
+                                Fergus Hume
+
+                                 AUTHOR OF
+
+           "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," "THE RAINBOW FEATHER,"
+                "A COIN OF EDWARD VII.," "THE PAGAN'S CUP,"
+                  "THE SECRET PASSAGE," "THE RED WINDOW,"
+                        "THE MANDARIN'S FAN," ETC.
+
+                          G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
+                            PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+
+                            COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY
+                          G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY.
+
+                            _Issued July, 1905._
+
+
+[Illustration: "LOOK! LOOK!" CRIED SYLVIA, GASPING--"THE MOUTH!"]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAP.                                                            PAGE
+
+    I. DON QUIXOTE IN LONDON                                        7
+
+   II. DEBORAH JUNK, DUENNA                                        19
+
+  III. DULCINEA OF GWYNNE STREET                                   32
+
+   IV. THE UNFORESEEN                                              44
+
+    V. TROUBLE                                                     56
+
+   VI. A NOISE IN THE NIGHT                                        68
+
+  VII. A TERRIBLE NIGHT                                            80
+
+ VIII. THE VERDICT OF THE JURY                                     91
+
+   IX. CASTLES IN THE AIR                                         103
+
+    X. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE                                       115
+
+   XI. A CUCKOO IN THE NEST                                       126
+
+  XII. THE NEW LIFE                                               137
+
+ XIII. THE DETECTIVE'S VIEWS                                      148
+
+  XIV. MR. HAY'S LITTLE DINNER                                    161
+
+   XV. A NEW CLUE                                                 172
+
+  XVI. SYLVIA'S THEORY                                            185
+
+ XVII. HURD'S INFORMATION                                         196
+
+XVIII. AT CHRISTCHURCH, HANTS                                     208
+
+  XIX. CAPTAIN JESSOP                                             219
+
+   XX. PART OF THE TRUTH                                          228
+
+  XXI. MISS QIAN'S PARTY                                          241
+
+ XXII. FURTHER EVIDENCE                                           254
+
+XXIII. WHAT PASH SAID                                             266
+
+ XXIV. MRS. KRILL AT BAY                                          278
+
+  XXV. A CRUEL WOMAN                                              291
+
+ XXVI. A FINAL EXPLANATION                                        306
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+DON QUIXOTE IN LONDON
+
+
+Simon Beecot was a country gentleman with a small income, a small estate
+and a mind considerably smaller than either. He dwelt at Wargrove in
+Essex and spent his idle hours--of which he possessed a daily and
+nightly twenty-four--in snarling at his faded wife and in snapping
+between whiles at his son. Mrs. Beecot, having been bullied into old age
+long before her time, accepted sour looks and hard words as necessary to
+God's providence, but Paul, a fiery youth, resented useless nagging. He
+owned more brain-power than his progenitor, and to this favoring of
+Nature paterfamilias naturally objected. Paul also desired fame, which
+was likewise a crime in the fire-side tyrant's eyes.
+
+As there were no other children Paul was heir to the Beecot acres,
+therefore their present proprietor suggested that his son should wait
+with idle hands for the falling in of the heritage. In plain words, Mr.
+Beecot, coming of a long line of middle-class loafers, wished his son to
+be a loafer also. Again, when Mrs. Beecot retired to a tearful rest, her
+bully found Paul a useful person on whom to expend his spleen. Should
+this whipping-boy leave, Mr. Beecot would have to forego this enjoyment,
+as servants object to being sworn at without cause. For years Mr.
+Beecot indulged in bouts of bad temper, till Paul, finding twenty-five
+too dignified an age to tolerate abuse, announced his intention of
+storming London as a scribbler.
+
+The parents objected in detail. Mrs. Beecot, after her kind, dissolved
+in tears, and made reference to young birds leaving the nest, while her
+husband, puffed out like a frog, and redder than the wattles of a
+turkey-cock, exhausted himself in well-chosen expressions. Paul
+increased the use of these by fixing a day for his departure. The female
+Beecot retired to bed with the assistance of a maid, burnt feathers and
+sal volatile, and the male, as a last and clinching argument,
+figuratively buttoned up his pockets.
+
+"Not one shilling will you get from me," said Beecot senior, with the
+graceful addition of vigorous adjectives.
+
+"I don't ask for money," said Paul, keeping his temper, for after all
+the turkey-cock was his father. "I have saved fifty pounds. Not out of
+my pocket-money," he added hastily, seeing further objections on the
+way. "I earned it by writing short stories."
+
+"The confounded mercantile instinct," snorted paterfamilias, only he
+used stronger words. "Your mother's uncle was in trade. Thank Heaven
+none of my people ever used hands or brains. The Beecots lived like
+gentlemen."
+
+"I should say like cabbages from your description, father."
+
+"No insolence, sir. How dare you disgrace your family? Writing tales
+indeed! Rubbish I expect" (here several adjectives). "And you took money
+I'll be bound, eh! eh!"
+
+"I have just informed you that I took all I could get," said Beecot
+junior, quietly. "I'll live in Town on my savings. When I make a name
+and a fortune I'll return."
+
+"Never! never!" gobbled the turkey-cock. "If you descend to the gutter
+you can wallow there. I'll cut you out of my will."
+
+"Very good, sir, that's settled. Let us change the subject."
+
+But the old gentleman was too high-spirited to leave well alone. He
+demanded to know if Paul knew to whom he was talking, inquired if he had
+read the Bible touching the duties of children to their parents,
+instanced the fact that Paul's dear mother would probably pine away and
+die, and ended with a pathetic reference to losing the prop of his old
+age. Paul listened respectfully and held to his own opinion. In defence
+of the same he replied in detail,--
+
+"I am aware that I talk to my father, sir," said he, with spirit; "you
+never allow me to forget that fact. If another man spoke to me as you do
+I should probably break his head. I _have_ read the Bible, and find
+therein that parents owe a duty to their children, which certainly does
+not include being abused like a pick-pocket. My mother will not pine
+away if you will leave her alone for at least three hours a day. And as
+to my being the prop of your old age, your vigor of language assures me
+that you are strong enough to stand alone."
+
+Paterfamilias, never bearded before, hastily drank a glass of port--the
+two were enjoying the usual pleasant family meal when the conversation
+took place--and said--but it is useless to detail his remarks. They were
+all sound and no sense. In justice to himself, and out of pity for his
+father, Paul cut short the scene by leaving the room with his
+determination unchanged. Mr. Beecot thereupon retired to bed, and
+lectured his wife on the enormity of having brought a parricide into the
+world. Having been countered for once in his life with common-sense, he
+felt that he could not put the matter too strongly to a woman, who was
+too weak to resent his bullying.
+
+Early next day the cause of the commotion, not having swerved a
+hair's-breadth from the path he had marked out, took leave of his
+mother, and a formal farewell of the gentleman who described himself as
+the best of fathers. Beecot senior, turkey-cock and tyrant, was more
+subdued now that he found bluster would not carry his point. But the
+wave of common-sense came too late. Paul departed bag and baggage, and
+his sire swore to the empty air. Even Mrs. Beecot was not available, as
+she had fainted.
+
+Once Paul was fairly out of the house paterfamilias announced that the
+glory of Israel had departed, removed his son's photograph from the
+drawing-room, and considered which of the relatives he had quarrelled
+with he should adopt. Privately, he thought he had been a trifle hard on
+the lad, and but for his obstinacy--which he called firmness--he would
+have recalled the prodigal. But that enterprising adventurer was beyond
+hearing, and had left no address behind him. Beecot, the bully, was not
+a bad old boy if only he had been firmly dealt with, so he acknowledged
+that Paul had a fine spirit of his own, inherited from himself, and
+prophesied incorrectly. "He'll come back when the fifty pounds is
+exhausted," said he in a kind of dejected rage, "and when he does--" A
+clenched fist shaken at nothing terminated the speech and showed that
+the leopard could not change his spots.
+
+So Paul Beecot repaired to London, and after the orthodox fashion began
+to cultivate the Muses on a little oatmeal by renting a Bloomsbury
+garret. There he wrote reams on all subjects and in all styles, and for
+six months assiduously haunted publishers' doors with varying fortunes.
+Sometimes he came away with a cheque, but more often with a bulky
+manuscript bulging his pocket. When tired of setting down imaginary
+woes he had time to think of his own; but being a cheerful youth, with
+an indomitable spirit, he banished trouble by interesting himself in the
+cheap world. By this is meant the world which costs no money to
+view--the world of the street. Here he witnessed the drama of humanity
+from morning till night, and from sunset till dawn, and on the whole
+witnessed very good acting. The poorer parts in the human comedy were
+particularly well played, and starving folks were quite dramatic in
+their demands for food. Note-book in hand, Paul witnessed spectacular
+shows in the West End, grotesque farces in the Strand, melodrama in
+Whitechapel and tragedy on Waterloo Bridge at midnight. Indeed, he quite
+spoiled the effect of a sensation scene by tugging at the skirts of a
+starving heroine who wished to take a river journey into the next world.
+But for the most part, he remained a spectator and plagiarised from real
+life.
+
+Shortly, the great manager of the Universal Theatre enlisted Paul as an
+actor, and he assumed the double _rôle_ of an unappreciated author and a
+sighing lover. In the first capacity he had in his desk ten short
+stories, a couple of novels, three dramas and a sheaf of doubtful
+verses. These failed to appeal to editor, manager or publisher, and
+their author found himself reduced to his last five-pound note. Then the
+foolish, ardent lad must needs fall in love. Who his divinity was, what
+she was, and why she should be divinised, can be gathered from a
+conversation her worshipper held with an old school-fellow.
+
+It was in Oxford Street at five o'clock on a June afternoon that Paul
+met Grexon Hay. Turning the corner of the street leading to his
+Bloomsbury attic, the author was tapped on the shoulder by a resplendent
+Bond Street being. That is, the said being wore a perfectly-fitting
+frock-coat, a silk hat, trousers with the regulation fold back and
+front, an orchid buttonhole, grey gloves, boots that glittered, and
+carried a gold-topped cane. The fact that Paul wheeled without wincing
+showed that he was not yet in debt. Your Grub Street old-time author
+would have leaped his own length at the touch. But Paul, with a clean
+conscience, turned slowly, and gazed without recognition into the
+clean-shaven, calm, cold face that confronted his inquiring eyes.
+
+"Beecot!" said the newcomer, taking rapid stock of Paul's shabby serge
+suit and worn looks. "I thought I was right."
+
+The voice, if not the face, awoke old memories.
+
+"Hay--Grexon Hay!" cried the struggling genius. "Well, I am glad to see
+you," and he shook hands with the frank grip of an honest man.
+
+"And I you." Hay drew his friend up the side street and out of the human
+tide which deluged the pavement. "But you seem--"
+
+"It's a long story," interrupted Paul flushing. "Come to my castle and
+I'll tell you all about it, old boy. You'll stay to supper, won't you?
+See here"--Paul displayed a parcel--"a pound of sausages. You loved 'em
+at school, and I'm a superfine cook."
+
+Grexon Hay always used expression and word to hide his feelings. But
+with Paul--whom he had always considered a generous ass at Torrington
+school--a trifle of self-betrayal didn't matter much. Beecot was too
+dense, and, it may be added, too honest to turn any opportunity to
+advantage. "It's a most surprising thing," said Hay, in his calm way,
+"really a most surprising thing, that a Torrington public school boy, my
+friend, and the son of wealthy parents, should be buying sausages."
+
+"Come now," said Paul, with great spirit and towing Hay homeward, "I
+haven't asked you for money."
+
+"If you do you shall have it," said Hay, but the offer was not so
+generous a one as would appear. That was Hay all over. He always said
+what he did not mean, and knew well that Beecot's uneasy pride shied at
+loans however small.
+
+Paul, the unsophisticated, took the shadow of generosity for its
+substance, and his dark face lighted up. "You're a brick, Hay," he
+declared, "but I don't want money. No!"--this in reply to an eloquent
+glance from the well-to-do--"I have sufficient for my needs, and
+besides," with a look at the resplendent dress of the fashion-plate
+dandy, "I don't glitter in the West End."
+
+"Which hints that those who do, are rich," said Grexon, with an arctic
+smile. "Wrong, Beecot. I'm poor. Only paupers can afford to dress well."
+
+"In that case I must be a millionaire," laughed Beecot, glancing
+downward at his well-worn garb. "But mount these stairs; we have much to
+say to one another."
+
+"Much that is pleasant," said the courtly Grexon.
+
+Paul shrugged his square shoulders and stepped heavenward. "On your
+part, I hope," he sang back; "certainly not on mine. Come to Poverty
+Castle," and the fashionable visitor found his host lighting the fire in
+an apartment such as he had read about but had never seen.
+
+It was quite the proper garret for starving genius--small, bleak, bare,
+but scrupulously clean. The floor was partially covered with scraps of
+old carpet, faded and worn; the walls were entirely papered with
+pictures from illustrated journals. One window, revealing endless rows
+of dingy chimney-pots, was draped with shabby rep curtains of a dull
+red. In one corner, behind an Indian screen, stood a narrow camp
+bedstead, covered with a gaudy Eastern shawl, and also a large tin bath,
+with a can of water beside it. Against the wall leaned a clumsy deal
+bookcase filled with volumes well-thumbed and in old bindings. On one
+side of the tiny fireplace was a horse-hair sofa, rendered less slippery
+by an expensive fur rug thrown over its bareness; on the other was a
+cupboard, whence Beecot rapidly produced crockery, knives, forks, a
+cruet, napkins and other table accessories, all of the cheapest
+description. A deal table in the centre of the room, an antique mahogany
+desk, heaped high with papers, under the window, completed the
+furnishing of Poverty Castle. And it was up four flights of stairs like
+that celebrated attic in Thackeray's poem.
+
+"As near heaven as I am likely to get," rattled on Beecot, deftly frying
+the sausages, after placing his visitor on the sofa. "The grub will soon
+be ready. I'm a first-class cook, bless you, old chap. Housemaid too.
+Clean, eh?" He waved the fork proudly round the ill-furnished room. "I'd
+dismiss myself if it wasn't."
+
+"But--but," stammered Hay, much amazed, and surveying things through an
+eye-glass. "What are you doing here?"
+
+"Trying to get my foot on the first rung of Fame's ladder."
+
+"But I don't quite see--"
+
+"Read Balzac's life and you will. His people gave him an attic and a
+starvation allowance in the hope of disgusting him. Bar the allowance,
+my pater has done the same. Here's the attic, and here's my
+starvation"--Paul gaily popped the frizzling sausages on a chipped hot
+plate--"and here's your aspiring servant hoping to be novelist,
+dramatist, and what not--to say nothing of why not? Mustard, there you
+are. Wait a bit. I'll brew you tea or cocoa."
+
+"I never take those things with meals, Beecot."
+
+"Your kit assures me of that. Champagne's more in your line. I say,
+Grexon, what are you doing now?"
+
+"What other West-End men do," said Grexon, attacking a sausage.
+
+"That means nothing. Well, you never did work at Torrington, so how can
+I expect the leopard to change his saucy spots."
+
+Hay laughed, and, during the meal, explained his position. "On leaving
+school I was adopted by a rich uncle," he said. "When he went the way of
+all flesh he left me a thousand a year, which is enough to live on with
+strict economy. I have rooms in Alexander Street, Camden Hill, a circle
+of friends, and a good appetite, as you will perceive. With these I get
+through life very comfortably."
+
+"Ha!" said Paul, darting a keen glance at his visitor, "you have the
+strong digestion necessary to happiness. Have you the hard heart also?
+If I remember at school--"
+
+"Oh, hang school!" said Grexon, flushing all over his cold face. "I
+never think of school. I was glad when I got away from it. But we were
+great friends at school, Paul."
+
+"Something after the style of Steerforth and David Copperfield," was
+Paul's reply as he pushed back his plate; "you were my hero, and I was
+your slave. But the other boys--" He looked again.
+
+"They hated me, because they did not understand me, as you did."
+
+"If that is so, Grexon, why did you let me slip out of your life? It is
+ten years since we parted. I was fifteen and you twenty."
+
+"Which now makes us twenty-five and thirty respectively," said Hay,
+dryly; "you left school before I did."
+
+"Yes; I had scarlet fever, and was taken home to be nursed. I never went
+back, and since then I have never met an old Torrington boy--"
+
+"Have you not?" asked Hay, eagerly.
+
+"No. My parents took me abroad, and I sampled a German university. I
+returned to idle about my father's place, till I grew sick of doing
+nothing, and, having ambitions, I came to try my luck in town." He
+looked round and laughed. "You see my luck."
+
+"Well," said Hay, lighting a dainty cigarette produced from a gold case,
+"my uncle, who died, sent me to Oxford and then I travelled. I am now on
+my own, as I told you, and haven't a relative in the world."
+
+"Why don't you marry?" asked Paul, with a flush.
+
+Hay, wary man-about-town as he was, noted the flush, and guessed its
+cause. He could put two and two together as well as most people.
+
+"I might ask you the same question," said he.
+
+The two friends looked at one another, and each thought of the
+difference in his companion since the old school-days. Hay was
+clean-shaven, fair-haired, and calm, almost icy, in manner. His eyes
+were blue and cold. No one could tell what was passing in his mind from
+the expression of his face. As a matter of fact he usually wore a mask,
+but at the present moment, better feelings having the upper hand, the
+mask had slipped a trifle. But as a rule he kept command of expression,
+and words, and actions. An admirable example of self-control was Grexon
+Hay.
+
+On the other hand, Beecot was slight, tall and dark, with an eager
+manner and a face which revealed his thoughts. His complexion was swart;
+he had large black eyes, a sensitive mouth, and a small moustache
+smartly twisted upward. He carried his head well, and looked rather
+military in appearance, probably because many of his forebears had been
+Army men. While Hay was smartly dressed in a Bond Street kit, Paul wore
+a well-cut, shabby blue serge. He looked perfectly well-bred, but his
+clothes were woefully threadbare.
+
+From these and the garret and the lean meal of sausages Hay drew his
+conclusions and put them into words.
+
+"Your father has cut you off," said he, calmly, "and yet you propose to
+marry."
+
+"How do you know both things?"
+
+"I keep my eyes open, Paul. I see this attic and your clothes. I saw
+also the flush on your face when you asked me why I did not marry. You
+are in love?"
+
+"I am," said Beecot, becoming scarlet, and throwing back his head. "It
+is clever of you to guess it. Prophesy more."
+
+Hay smiled in a cold way. "I prophesy that if you marry on nothing you
+will be miserable. But of course," he looked sharply at his open-faced
+friend, "the lady may be rich."
+
+"She is the daughter of a second-hand bookseller called Norman, and I
+believe he combines selling books with pawnbroking."
+
+"Hum," said Hay, "he might make money out of the last occupation. Is he
+a Jew by any chance?"
+
+"No. He is a miserable-looking, one-eyed Christian, with the manner of a
+frightened rabbit."
+
+"One-eyed and frightened," repeated Hay, musingly, but without change of
+expression; "desirable father-in-law. And the daughter?"
+
+"Sylvia. She is an angel, a white lily, a--"
+
+"Of course," said Grexon, cutting short these rhapsodies. "And what do
+you intend to marry on?"
+
+Beecot fished a shabby blue velvet case out of his pocket. "On my last
+five pounds and this," he said, opening the case.
+
+Hay looked at the contents of the case, and saw a rather large brooch
+made in the form of a jewelled serpent. "Opals, diamonds and gold," he
+said slowly, then looked up eagerly. "Sell it to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DEBORAH JUNK, DUENNA
+
+
+Number forty-five Gwynne Street was a second-hand bookshop, and much of
+the stock was almost as old as the building itself. A weather-stained
+board of faded blue bore in tarnished gold lettering the name of its
+owner, and under this were two broad windows divided by a squat door,
+open on week-days from eight in the morning until eight at night. Within
+the shop was dark and had a musty odor.
+
+On either side of the quaint old house was a butcher's and a baker's,
+flaunting places of business, raw in their newness. Between the
+first-named establishment and the bookshop a low, narrow passage led to
+a small backyard and to a flight of slimy steps, down which clients who
+did not wish to be seen could arrive at a kind of cellar to transact
+business with Mr. Norman.
+
+This individual combined two distinct trades. On the ground floor he
+sold second-hand books; in the cellar he bought jewels and gave money on
+the same to needy people. In the shop, pale youths, untidy, abstracted
+old men, spectacled girls, and all varieties of the pundit caste were to
+be seen poring over ancient volumes or exchanging words with the
+proprietor. But to the cellar came fast young men, aged spendthrifts,
+women of no reputation and some who were very respectable indeed. These
+usually came at night, and in the cellar transactions would take place
+which involved much money exchanging hands. In the daytime Mr. Norman
+was an innocent bookseller, but after seven he retired to the cellar and
+became as genuine a pawnbroker as could be found in London. Touching
+books he was easy enough to deal with, but a Shylock as regards jewels
+and money lent. With his bookish clients he passed for a dull shopkeeper
+who knew little about literature; but in the underground establishment
+he was spoken of, by those who came to pawn, as a usurer of the worst.
+In an underhand way he did a deal of business.
+
+Aaron Norman--such was the name over the shop--looked like a man with a
+past--a miserable past, for in his one melancholy eye and twitching,
+nervous mouth could be read sorrow and apprehension. His face was pale,
+and he had an odd habit of glancing over his left shoulder, as though he
+expected to be tapped thereon by a police officer. Sixty years had
+rounded his shoulders and weakened his back, so that his one eye was
+almost constantly on the ground. Suffering had scored marks on his
+forehead and weary lines round his thin-lipped mouth. When he spoke he
+did so in a low, hesitating voice, and when he looked up, which was
+seldom, his eye revealed a hunted look like that of a wearied beast
+fearful lest it should be dragged from its lair.
+
+It was this strange-looking man that Paul Beecot encountered in the
+doorway of the Gwynne Street shop the day after his meeting with Hay.
+Many a visit had Paul paid to that shop, and not always to buy books.
+Norman knew him very well, and, recognizing him in a fleeting look as he
+passed through the doorway, smiled weakly. Behind the counter stood Bart
+Tawsey, the lean underling, who was much sharper with buyers than was
+his master, but after a disappointed glance in his direction Paul
+addressed himself to the bookseller. "I wish to see you particularly,"
+he said, with his eager air.
+
+"I am going out on important business," said Norman, "but if you will
+not be very long--"
+
+"It's about a brooch I wish to pawn."
+
+The old man's mouth became hard and his eyes sharper. "I can't attend to
+that now, Mr. Beecot," he said, and his voice rang out louder than
+usual. "After seven."
+
+"It's only six now," said Paul, looking over his shoulder at a church
+clock which could be seen clearly in the pale summer twilight. "I can't
+wait."
+
+"Well, then, as you are an old customer--of books," said Aaron, with
+emphasis, "I'll stretch a point. You can go below at a quarter to seven,
+and I'll come round through the outside passage to see you. Meantime, I
+must go about my business," and he went away with his head hanging and
+his solitary eye searching the ground as usual.
+
+Paul, in spite of his supposed hurry, was not ill-pleased that Aaron had
+gone out and that there was an idle hour before him. He stepped lightly
+into the shop, and, under the flaring gas--which was lighted, so dark
+was the interior of the shop in spite of the luminous gloaming--he
+encountered the smile of Barty. Paul, who was sensitive and proudly
+reticent, grew red. He knew well enough that his apparent admiration of
+Sylvia Norman had attracted the notice of Bart and of the red-armed
+wench, Deborah Junk, who was the factotum of the household. Not that he
+minded, for both these servants were devoted to Sylvia, and knowing that
+she returned the feelings of Paul said nothing about the position to
+Aaron. Beecot could not afford to make enemies of the pair, and had no
+wish to do so. They were coarse-grained and common, but loyal and kindly
+of heart.
+
+"Got any new books, Bart?" asked Beecot, coming forward with roving
+eyes, for he hoped to see Sylvia glide out of the darkness to bless his
+hungry eyes.
+
+"No, sir. We never get new books," replied Bart, smartly. "Leastways
+there's a batch of second-hand novels published last year. But bless
+you, Mr. Beecot, there ain't nothing new about them 'cept the bindings."
+
+"You are severe, Bart. I hope to be a novelist myself."
+
+"We need one, sir. For the most part them as write now ain't novelists,
+if that means telling anything as is new. But I must go upstairs, sir.
+Miss Sylvia said I was to tell her when you came."
+
+"Oh, yes--er--er--that is--she wants to see a photograph of my old home.
+I promised to show it to her." Paul took a parcel out of his pocket.
+"Can't I go up?"
+
+"No, sir. 'Twouldn't be wise. The old man may come back, and if he knew
+as you'd been in his house," Bart jerked his head towards the ceiling,
+"he'd take a fit."
+
+"Why? He doesn't think I'm after the silver?"
+
+"Lor' bless you no, sir. It ain't that. What's valuable--silver and gold
+and jewels and such like--is down there." Bart nodded towards the floor.
+"But Mr. Norman don't like people coming into his private rooms. He's
+never let in anyone for years."
+
+"Perhaps he fears to lose the fairest jewel he has."
+
+Bart was what the Scotch call "quick in the uptake." "He don't think so
+much of her as he ought to, sir," said he, gloomily. "But I know he
+loves her, and wants to make her a great heiress. When he goes to the
+worms Miss Sylvia will have a pretty penny. I only hope," added Bart,
+looking slyly at Paul, "that he who has her to wife won't squander what
+the old man has worked for."
+
+Beecot colored still more at this direct hint, and would have replied,
+but at this moment a large, red-faced, ponderous woman dashed into the
+shop from a side door. "There," said she, clapping her hands in a
+childish way, "I know'd his vice, an' I ses to Miss Sylvia, as is
+sittin' doing needlework, which she do do lovely, I ses 'That's him,'
+and she ses, with a lovely color, 'Oh, Deborah, jus' see, fur m'eart's
+abeating too loud for me t'ear 'is vice.' So I ses--"
+
+Here she became breathless and clapped her hands again, so as to prevent
+interruption. But Paul did interrupt her, knowing from experience that
+when once set going Deborah would go on until pulled up. "Can't I go up
+to Miss Norman?" he asked.
+
+"You may murder me, and slay me, and trample on my corp," said Deborah,
+solemnly, "but go up you can't. Master would send me to walk the streets
+if I dared to let you, innocent as you are, go up them stairs."
+
+Paul knew long ago how prejudiced the old man was in this respect.
+During all the six months he had known Sylvia he had never been
+permitted to mount the stairs in question. It was strange that Aaron
+should be so particular on this point, but connecting it with his
+downcast eye and frightened air, Paul concluded, though without much
+reason, that the old man had something to conceal. More, that he was
+frightened of someone. However, he did not argue the point, but
+suggested a meeting-place. "Can't I see her in the cellar?" he asked.
+"Mr. Norman said I could go down to wait for him."
+
+"Sir," said Deborah, plunging forward a step, like a stumbling 'bus
+horse, "don't tell me as you want to pawn."
+
+"Well, I do," replied Paul, softly, "but you needn't tell everyone."
+
+"It's only Bart," cried Deborah, casting a fierce look in the direction
+of the slim, sharp-faced young man, "and if he was to talk I'd take his
+tongue out. That I would. I'm a-training him to be my husband, as I
+don't hold with the ready-made article, and married he shall be, by
+parsing and clark if he's a good boy and don't talk of what don't matter
+to him."
+
+"I ain't goin' to chatter," said Bart, with a wink. "Lor' bless you,
+sir, I've seen gentlemen as noble as yourself pawning things down
+there"--he nodded again towards the floor--"ah, and ladies too, but--"
+
+"Hold your tongue," cried Deborah, pitching herself across the floor
+like a ship in distress. "Your a-talking now of what you ain't a right
+to be a-talkin' of, drat you. Come this way, Mr. Beecot, to the place
+where old Nick have his home, for that he is when seven strikes."
+
+"You shouldn't speak of your master in that way," protested Paul.
+
+"Oh, shouldn't I," snorted the maid, with a snort surprisingly loud.
+"And who have a better right, sir? I've been here twenty year as servant
+and nuss and friend and 'umble well-wisher to Miss Sylvia, coming a slip
+of a girl at ten, which makes me thirty, I don't deny; not that it's too
+old to marry Bart, though he's but twenty, and makes up in wickedness
+for twice that age. I know master, and when the sun's up there ain't a
+better man living, but turn on the gas and he's an old Nick. Bart,
+attend to your business and don't open them long ears of yours too wide.
+I won't have a listening husband, I can tell you. This way, sir. Mind
+the steps."
+
+By this time Deborah had convoyed Paul to a dark corner behind the
+counter and jerked back a trap door. Here he saw a flight of wooden
+steps which led downwards into darkness. But Miss Junk snatched up a
+lantern on the top step, and having lighted it dropped down, holding it
+above her red and touzelled head. Far below her voice was heard crying
+to Beecot to "Come on"; therefore he followed as quickly as he could,
+and soon found himself in the cellar. All around was dark, but Deborah
+lighted a couple of flaring gas-jets, and then turned, with her arms
+akimbo, on the visitor.
+
+"Now then, sir, you and me must have a talk, confidential like," said
+she in her breathless way. "It's pawning is it? By which I knows that
+you ain't brought that overbearing pa of yours to his knees."
+
+Paul sat down in a clumsy mahogany chair, which stood near a plain deal
+table, and stared at the handmaiden. "I never told you about my father,"
+he said, exhibiting surprise.
+
+"Oh, no, of course not"--Miss Junk tossed her head--"me being a babe an'
+a suckling, not fit to be told anything. But you told Miss Sylvia and
+she told me, as she tells everything to her Debby, God bless her for a
+pretty flower!" She pointed a coarse, red finger at Paul. "If you were a
+gay deceiver, Mr. Beecot, I'd trample on your corp this very minute if I
+was to die at Old Bailey for the doing of it."
+
+Seeing Deborah was breathless again, Paul seized his chance. "There is
+no reason you shouldn't know all about me, and--"
+
+"No, indeed, I should think not, begging your pardon, sir. But when you
+comes here six months back, I ses to Miss Sylvia, I ses, 'He's making
+eyes at you, my lily,' and she ses to me, she says, 'Oh, Debby, I love
+him, that I do.' And then I ses, ses I, 'My pretty, he looks a gent born
+and bred, but that's the wust kind, so we'll find out if he's a liar
+before you loses your dear heart to him.'"
+
+"But I'm not a liar--" began Paul, only to be cut short again.
+
+"As well I knows," burst out Miss Junk, her arms akimbo again. "Do you
+think, sir, as I'd ha' let you come loving my pretty one and me not
+knowing if you was Judas or Jezebel? Not me, if I never drank my nightly
+drop of beer again. What you told Miss Sylvia of your frantic pa and
+your loving ma she told me. Pumping _you_ may call it," shouted Deborah,
+emphasising again with the red finger, "but everything you told in your
+lover way she told her old silly Debby. I ses to Bart, if you loves me,
+Bart, go down to Wargrove, wherever it may be--if in England, which I
+doubt--and if he--meaning you--don't tell the truth, out he goes if I
+have the chucking of him myself and a police-court summings over it. So
+Bart goes to Wargrove, and he find out that you speaks true, which means
+that you're a gent, sir, if ever there was one, in spite of your frantic
+pa, so I hopes as you'll marry my flower, and make her happy--bless
+you," and Deborah spread a large pair of mottled arms over Paul's head.
+
+"It's all true," said he, good-naturedly; "my father and I don't get on
+well together, and I came to make a name in London. But for all you
+know, Deborah, I may be a scamp."
+
+"That you are not," she burst out. "Why, Bart's been follerin' you
+everywhere, and he and me, which is to be his lawful wife and master,
+knows all about you and that there place in Bloomsbury, and where you go
+and where you don't go. And let me tell you, sir," again she lifted her
+finger threateningly, "if you wasn't what you oughter be, never would
+you see my pretty one again. No, not if I had to wash the floor in your
+blue blood--for blue it is, if what Bart learned was true of them stone
+figgers in the church," and she gasped.
+
+Paul was silent for a few minutes, looking at the floor. He wondered
+that he had not guessed all this. Often it had seemed strange to him
+that so faithful and devoted a couple of retainers as Bart and Deborah
+Junk should favor his wooing of Sylvia and keep it from their master,
+seeing that they knew nothing about him. But from the woman's
+story--which he saw no reason to disbelieve--the two had not rested
+until they had been convinced of his respectability and of the truth of
+his story. Thus they had permitted the wooing to continue, and Paul
+privately applauded them for their tact in so making sure of him without
+committing themselves to open speech. "All the same," he said aloud, and
+following his own thoughts, "it's strange that you should wish her to
+marry me."
+
+Miss Junk made a queer answer. "I'm glad enough to see her marry anyone
+respectable, let alone a gent, as you truly are, with stone figgers in
+churches and a handsome face, though rather dark for my liking. Mr.
+Beecot, twenty year ago, a slip of ten, I come to nuss the baby as was
+my loving angel upstairs, and her ma had just passed away to jine them
+as lives overhead playing harps. All these years I've never heard a
+young step on them stairs, save Miss Sylvia's and Bart's, him having
+come five years ago, and a brat he was. And would you believe it, Mr.
+Beecot, I know no more of the old man than you do. He's queer, and he's
+wrong altogether, and that frightened of being alone in the dark as you
+could make him a corp with a turnip lantern."
+
+"What is he afraid of?"
+
+"Ah," said Deborah, significantly, "what indeed? It may be police and it
+may be ghosts, but, ghosts or police, he never ses what he oughter say
+if he's a respectable man, which I sadly fear he ain't."
+
+"He may have his reasons to--"
+
+Miss Junk tossed her head and snorted again loudly. "Oh, yes--he has his
+reasons," she admitted, "and Old Bailey ones they are, I dessay. But
+there's somethin' 'anging over his head. Don't ask me what it is, fur
+never shall you know, by reason of my being ignorant. But whatever it
+is, Mr. Beecot, it's something wicked, and shall I see my own pretty in
+trouble?"
+
+"How do you know there will be trouble?" interrupted Paul, anxiously.
+
+"I've heard him pray," said Miss Junk, mysteriously--"yes, you may look,
+for there ain't no prayer in the crafty eye of him--but pray he do, and
+asks to be kept from danger--"
+
+"Danger?"
+
+"Danger's the word, for I won't deceive you, no, not if you paid me
+better wages than the old man do give and he's as near as the paring of
+an inion. So I ses to Bart, if there's danger and trouble and Old
+Baileys about, the sooner Miss Sylvia have some dear man to give her a
+decent name and pertect her the more happy old Deborah will be. So I
+looked and looked for what you might call a fairy prince as I've heard
+tell of in pantomimes, and when you comes she loses her heart to you. So
+I ses, find out, Bart, what he is, and--"
+
+"Yes, yes, I see. Well, Deborah, you can depend upon my looking after
+your pretty mistress. If I were only reconciled with my father I would
+speak to Mr. Norman."
+
+"Don't, sir--don't!" cried the woman, fiercely, and making a clutch at
+Paul's arm; "he'll turn you out, he will, not being anxious fur anyone
+to have my flower, though love her as he oughter do, he don't, no,"
+cried Deborah, "nor her ma before her, who died with a starvin' 'eart.
+But you run away with my sweetest and make her your own, though her pa
+swears thunderbolts as you may say. Take her from this place of
+wickedness and police-courts." And Deborah looked round the cellar with
+a shudder. Suddenly she started and held up her finger, nodding towards
+a narrow door at the side of the cellar. "Master's footstep," she said
+in a harsh whisper. "I'd know it in a thousand--just like a thief's,
+ain't it?--stealing as you might say. Don't tell him you've seen me."
+
+"But Sylvia," cried Paul, catching her dress as she passed him.
+
+"Her you'll see, if I die for it," said Deborah, and whirled up the
+wooden steps in a silent manner surprising in so noisy a woman. Paul
+heard the trap-door drop with a stealthy creak.
+
+As a key grated in the lock of the outside door he glanced round the
+place to which he had penetrated for the first time. It was of the same
+size as the shop overhead, but the walls were of stone, green with slime
+and feathery with a kind of ghastly white fungus. Overhead, from the
+wooden roof, which formed the floor of the shop, hung innumerable
+spider's webs thick with dust. The floor was of large flags cracked in
+many places, and between the chinks in moist corners sprouted sparse,
+colorless grass. In the centre was a deal table, scored with queer marks
+and splotched with ink. Over this flared two gas-jets, which whistled
+shrilly. Against the wall, which was below the street, were three green
+painted safes fast locked: but the opposite wall had in it the narrow
+door aforesaid, and a wide grated window, the bars of which were rusty,
+though strong. The atmosphere of the place was cold and musty and
+suggestive of a charnel house. Certainly a strange place in which to
+transact business, but everything about Aaron Norman was strange.
+
+And he looked strange himself as he stepped in at the open door. Beyond,
+Paul could see the shallow flight of damp steps leading to the yard and
+the passage which gave admission from the street. Norman locked the door
+and came forward. He was as white as a sheet, and his face was thickly
+beaded with perspiration. His mouth twitched more than usual, and his
+hands moved nervously. Twice as he advanced towards Paul, who rose to
+receive him, did he cast the odd look over his shoulder. Beecot
+fancifully saw in him a man who had committed some crime and was fearful
+lest it should be discovered, or lest the avenger should suddenly
+appear. Deborah's confidential talk had not been without its effects on
+the young man, and Paul beheld in Aaron a being of mystery. How such a
+man came to have such a daughter as Sylvia, Paul could not guess.
+
+"Here you are, Mr. Beecot," said Aaron, rubbing his hands as though the
+cold of the cellar struck to his bones. "Well?"
+
+"I want to pawn a brooch," said Beecot, slipping his hand into his
+breast pocket.
+
+"Wait," said Norman, throwing up his lean hand. "Let me tell you that I
+have taken a fancy to you, and I have watched you all the many times you
+have been here. Didn't you guess?"
+
+"No," said Paul, wondering if he was about to speak of Sylvia, and
+concluding that he guessed what was in the wind.
+
+"Well then, I have," said the pawnbroker, "and I think it's a pity a
+young man should pawn anything. Have you no money?" he asked.
+
+Paul reddened. "Very little," he said.
+
+"Little as it may be, live on that and don't pawn," said Aaron. "I speak
+against my own interests, but I like you, and perhaps I can lend you a
+few shillings."
+
+"I take money from no one, thank you all the same," said Beecot,
+throwing back his head, "but if you can lend me something on this
+brooch," and he pulled out the case from his pocket. "A friend of mine
+would have bought it, but as it belongs to my mother I prefer to pawn it
+so that I may get it again when I am rich."
+
+"Well, well," said Aaron, abruptly, and resuming his downcast looks, "I
+shall do what I can. Let me see it."
+
+He stretched out his hand and took the case. Slowly opening it under the
+gas, he inspected its contents. Suddenly he gave a cry of alarm, and the
+case fell to the floor. "The Opal Serpent!--The Opal Serpent!" he cried,
+growing purple in the face, "keep off!--keep off!" He beat the air with
+his lean hands. "Oh--the Opal!" and he fell face downward on the slimy
+floor in a fit or a faint, but certainly unconscious.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+DULCINEA OF GWYNNE STREET
+
+
+Near the Temple Station of the Metropolitan Railway is a small garden
+which contains a certain number of fairly-sized trees, a round
+band-stand, and a few flower-beds intersected by asphalt paths. Here
+those who are engaged in various offices round about come to enjoy _rus
+in urbes_, to listen to the gay music, and, in many cases, to eat a
+scanty mid-day meal. Old women come to sun themselves, loafers sit on
+the seats to rest, workmen smoke and children play. On a bright day the
+place is pretty, and those who frequent it feel as though they were
+enjoying a country holiday though but a stone's throw from the Thames.
+And lovers meet here also, so it was quite in keeping that Paul Beecot
+should wait by the bronze statues of the Herculaneum wrestlers for the
+coming of Sylvia.
+
+On the previous day he had departed hastily, after committing the old
+man to Deborah's care. At first he had lingered to see Aaron revive, but
+when the unconscious man came to his senses and opened his eyes he
+fainted again when his gaze fell on Paul. Deborah, therefore, in her
+rough, practical way, suggested that as Beecot was "upsetting him" he
+had better go. It was in a state of perplexity that Paul had gone away,
+but he was cheered on his homeward way by a hasty assurance given by
+Miss Junk that Sylvia would meet him in the gardens, "near them niggers
+without clothes," said Deborah.
+
+It was strange that the sight of the brooch should have produced such an
+effect on Aaron, and his fainting confirmed Paul's suspicions that the
+old man had not a clean conscience. But what the serpent brooch had to
+do with the matter Beecot could not conjecture. It was certainly an odd
+piece of jewellery, and not particularly pretty, but that the merest
+glimpse of it should make Norman faint was puzzling in the extreme.
+
+"Apparently it is associated with something disagreeable in the man's
+mind," soliloquised Paul, pacing the pavement and keeping a sharp
+look-out for Sylvia, "perhaps with death, else the effect would scarcely
+have been so powerful as to produce a fainting fit. Yet Aaron can't know
+my mother. Hum! I wonder what it means."
+
+While he was trying to solve the mystery a light touch on his arm made
+him wheel round, and he beheld Sylvia smiling at him. While he was
+looking along the Embankment for her coming she had slipped down Norfolk
+Street and through the gardens, to where the wrestlers clutched at empty
+air. In her low voice, which was the sweetest of all sounds to Paul, she
+explained this, looking into his dark eyes meanwhile. "But I can't stay
+long," finished Sylvia. "My father is still ill, and he wants me to
+return and nurse him."
+
+"Has he explained why he fainted?" asked Paul, anxiously.
+
+"No; he refuses to speak on the matter. Why did he faint, Paul?"
+
+The young man looked puzzled. "Upon my word I don't know," he said.
+"Just as I was showing him a brooch I wished to pawn he went off."
+
+"What kind of a brooch?" asked the girl, also perplexed.
+
+Paul took the case out of his breast pocket, where it had been since the
+previous day. "My mother sent it to me," he explained; "you see she
+guesses that I am hard up, and, thanks to my father, she can't send me
+money. This piece of jewellery she has had for many years, but as it is
+rather old-fashioned she never wears it. So she sent it to me, hoping
+that I might get ten pounds or so on it. A friend of mine wished to buy
+it, but I was anxious to get it back again, so that I might return it to
+my mother. Therefore I thought your father might lend me money on it."
+
+Sylvia examined the brooch with great attention. It was evidently of
+Indian workmanship, delicately chased, and thickly set with jewels. The
+serpent, which was apparently wriggling across the stout gold pin of the
+brooch, had its broad back studded with opals, large in the centre of
+the body and small at head and tail. These were set round with tiny
+diamonds, and the head was of chased gold with a ruby tongue. Sylvia
+admired the workmanship and the jewels, and turned the brooch over. On
+the flat smooth gold underneath she found the initial "R" scratched with
+a pin. This she showed to Paul. "I expect your mother made this mark to
+identify the brooch," she said.
+
+"My mother's name is Anne," replied Paul, looking more puzzled than
+ever, "Anne Beecot. Why should she mark this with an initial which has
+nothing to do with her name?"
+
+"Perhaps it is a present," suggested Sylvia.
+
+Paul snapped the case to, and replaced it in his pocket. "Perhaps it
+is," he said. "However, when I next write to my mother I'll ask her
+where she got the brooch. She has had it for many years," he added
+musingly, "for I remember playing with it when a small boy."
+
+"Don't tell your mother that my father fainted."
+
+"Why not? Does it matter?"
+
+Sylvia folded her slender hands and looked straight in front of her.
+For some time they had been seated on a bench in a retired part of the
+gardens, and the laughter of playing children, the music of the band
+playing the merriest airs from the last musical comedy, came faintly to
+their ears. "I think it does matter," said the girl, seriously; "for
+some reason my father wants to keep himself as quiet as possible. He
+talks of going away."
+
+"Going away. Oh, Sylvia, and you never told me."
+
+"He only spoke of going away when I came to see how he was this
+morning," she replied. "I wonder if his fainting has anything to do with
+this determination. He never talked of going away before."
+
+Paul wondered also. It seemed strange that after so unusual an event the
+old man should turn restless and wish to leave a place where he had
+lived for over twenty years. "I'll come and have an explanation," said
+Paul, after a pause.
+
+"I think that will be best, dear. Father said that he would like to see
+you again, and told Bart to bring you in if he saw you."
+
+"I'll call to-day--this afternoon, and perhaps your father will explain.
+And now, Sylvia, that is enough about other people and other things. Let
+us talk of ourselves."
+
+Sylvia turned her face with a fond smile. She was a delicate and dainty
+little lady, with large grey eyes and soft brown hair. Her complexion
+was transparent, and she had little color in her cheeks. With her oval
+face, her thin nose and charming mouth she looked very pretty and sweet.
+But it was her expression that Paul loved. That was a trifle sad, but
+when she smiled her looks changed as an overcast sky changes when the
+sun bursts through the clouds. Her figure was perfect, her hands and
+feet showed marks of breeding, and although her grey dress was as
+demure as any worn by a Quakeress, she looked bright and merry in the
+sunshine of her lover's presence. Everything about Sylvia was dainty and
+neat and exquisitely clean: but she was hopelessly out of the fashion.
+It was this odd independence in her dress which constituted another
+charm in Paul's eyes.
+
+The place was too public to indulge in love-making, and it was very
+tantalising to sit near this vision of beauty without gaining the
+delight of a kiss. Paul feasted his eyes, and held Sylvia's grey-gloved
+hand under cover of her dress. Further he could not go.
+
+"But if you put up your sunshade," he suggested artfully.
+
+"Paul!" That was all Sylvia said, but it suggested a whole volume of
+rebuke. Brought up in seclusion, like the princess in an enchanted
+castle, the girl was exceedingly shy. Paul's ardent looks and eager
+wooing startled her at times, and he thought disconsolately that his
+chivalrous love-making was coarse and common when he gazed on the
+delicate, dainty, shrinking maid he adored.
+
+"You should not have stepped out of your missal, Sylvia," he said sadly.
+
+"Whatever do you mean, dearest?"
+
+"I mean that you are a saint--an angel--a thing to be adored and
+worshipped. You are exactly like one of those lovely creations one sees
+in mass-books of the Middle Ages. I fear, Sylvia," Paul sighed, "that
+you are too dainty and holy for this work-a-day world."
+
+"What nonsense, Paul! I'm a poor girl without position or friends,
+living in a poor street. You are the first person who ever thought me
+pretty."
+
+"You are not pretty," said the ardent Beecot, "you are divine--you are
+Beatrice--you are Elizabeth of Thuringia--you are everything that is
+lovely and adorable."
+
+"And you are a silly boy," replied Sylvia, blushing, but loving this
+poetic talk all the same. "Do you want to put me in a glass case when we
+marry? If you do, I sha'n't become Mrs. Beecot. I want to see the world
+and to enjoy myself."
+
+"Then other men will admire you and I shall grow jealous."
+
+"Can you be jealous--Paul?"
+
+"Horribly! You don't know half my bad qualities. I am poor and needy,
+and ambitious and jealous, and--"
+
+"There--there. I won't hear you run yourself down. You are the best boy
+in the world."
+
+"Poor world, if I am that," he laughed, and squeezed the little hand.
+"Oh, my love, do you really think of me?"
+
+"Always! Always! You know I do. Why, ever since I saw you enter the shop
+six months ago I have always loved you. I told Debby, and Debby said
+that I could."
+
+"Supposing Debby had said that you couldn't."
+
+"Oh, she would never have said that. Why, Paul, she saw you."
+
+The young man laughed and colored. "Do I carry my character in my face?"
+he asked. "Sylvia, don't think too well of me."
+
+"That is impossible," she declared. "You are my fairy prince."
+
+"Well, I certainly have found an enchanted princess sleeping in a
+jealously-guarded castle. What would your father say did he know?"
+
+Sylvia looked startled. "I am afraid of my father," she replied,
+indirectly. "Yes--he is so strange. Sometimes he seems to love me, and
+at other times to hate me. We have nothing in common. I love books and
+art, and gaiety and dresses. But father only cares for jewels. He has a
+lot down in the cellar. I have never seen them, you know," added Sylvia,
+looking at her lover, "nor have Deborah or Bart. But they are there.
+Bart and Deborah say so."
+
+"Has your father ever said so?"
+
+"No. He won't speak of his business in the cellar. When the shop is
+closed at seven he sends Bart away home and locks Deborah and I in the
+house. That is," she explained anxiously, lest Paul should think her
+father a tyrant, "he locks the door which leads to the shop. We can walk
+over all the house. But there we stop till next morning, when father
+unlocks the door at seven and Bart takes down the shutters. We have
+lived like that for years. On Sunday evenings, however, father does not
+go to the cellar, but takes me to church. He has supper with me
+upstairs, and then locks the door at ten."
+
+"But he sleeps upstairs?"
+
+"No. He sleeps in the cellar."
+
+"Impossible. There is no accommodation for sleeping there."
+
+Sylvia explained. "There is another cellar--a smaller one--off the large
+place he has the safes in. The door is in a dark corner almost under the
+street line. This smaller cellar is fitted up as a bedroom, and my
+father has slept there all his life. I suppose he is afraid of his
+jewels being stolen. I don't think it is good for his health," added the
+girl, wisely, "for often in the morning he looks ill and his hands
+shake."
+
+"Sylvia, does your father drink alcohol?"
+
+"Oh, no, Paul! He is a teetotaller, and is very angry at those who drink
+to excess. Why, once Bart came to the shop a little drunk, and father
+would have discharged him but for Deborah."
+
+Paul said nothing, but thought the more. Often it had struck him that
+Norman was a drunkard, though his face showed no signs of indulgence,
+for it always preserved its paleness. But the man's hands shook, and his
+skin often was drawn and tight, with that shiny look suggestive of
+indulgence. "He either drinks or smokes opium," thought Paul on hearing
+Sylvia's denial. But he said nothing to her of this.
+
+"I must go home now," she said, rising.
+
+"Oh, no, not yet," he implored.
+
+"Well, then, I'll stay for a few minutes longer, because I have
+something to say," she remarked, and sat down again. "Paul, do you think
+it is quite honorable for you and I to be engaged without the consent of
+my father?"
+
+"Well," hesitated Beecot, "I don't think it is as it should be. Were I
+well off I should not fear to tell your father everything; but as I am a
+pauper he would forbid my seeing you did he learn that I had raised my
+eyes to you. But if you like I'll speak, though it may mean our parting
+for ever."
+
+"Paul," she laid a firm, small hand on his arm, "not all the fathers in
+the world will keep me from you. Often I have intended to tell all, but
+my father is so strange. Sometimes he goes whole days without speaking
+to me, and at times he speaks harshly, though I do nothing to deserve
+rebuke. I am afraid of my father," said the girl, with a shiver. "I said
+so before, and I say so again. He is a strange man, and I don't
+understand him at all. I wish I could marry you and go away altogether."
+
+"Well, let us marry if you like, though we will be poor."
+
+"No," said Sylvia, sorrowfully; "after all, strange and harsh though my
+father is, he is still my father, and at times he is kind. I must stay
+with him to the end."
+
+"What end?"
+
+Sylvia shook her head still more sorrowfully. "Who knows? Paul, my
+father is afraid of dying suddenly."
+
+"By violence?" asked Beecot, thinking of Deborah's talk.
+
+"I can't say. But every day after six he goes to church and prays all
+alone. Deborah told me, as often she has seen him leave the church. Then
+he is afraid of every stranger who enters the shop. I don't understand
+it," cried the girl, passionately. "I don't like it. I wish you would
+marry me and take me away, Paul; but, oh, how selfish I am!"
+
+"My own, I wish I could. But the money--"
+
+"Oh, never mind the money. I must get away from that house. If it was
+not for Deborah I would be still more afraid. I often think my father is
+mad. But there," Sylvia rose and shook out her skirts, "I have no right
+to talk so, and only do so to you, that you may know what I feel. I'll
+speak to my father myself and say we are engaged. If he forbids our
+marriage I shall run away with you, Paul," said poor Sylvia, the tears
+in her eyes. "I am a bad girl to talk in this way. After all, he is my
+father."
+
+Beecot had an ardent desire to take her in his arms and kiss away those
+tears, but the publicity of the meeting-place denied him the power to
+console her in that efficacious fashion. All he could do was to assure
+her of his love, and then they walked out of the gardens towards the
+Strand. "I'll speak to your father myself," said Paul; "we must end this
+necessary silence. After all, I am a gentleman, and I see no reason why
+your father should object."
+
+"I know you are everything that is good and true," said Sylvia, drying
+her eyes. "If you were not Debby would not have let me become engaged to
+you," she finished childishly.
+
+"Debby made inquiries about me," said Paul, laughing, to cheer her.
+"Yes! she sent Bart to Wargrove and found out all about me and my
+family and my respected father. She wished to be certain that I was a
+proper lover for her darling."
+
+"I am your darling now," whispered Sylvia, squeezing his arm, "and you
+are the most charming lover in the world."
+
+Paul was so enchanted with this speech that he would have defied public
+opinion by embracing her there and then, but Sylvia walked away rapidly
+down Gwynne Street and shook her head with a pursed-up mouth when Paul
+took a few steps after her. Recognizing that it would be wise not to
+follow her to the shop lest the suspicious old man should be looking
+out, Beecot went on his homeward way.
+
+When he drew near his Bloomsbury garret he met Grexon Hay, who was
+sauntering along swinging his cane. "I was just looking for you," he
+said, greeting Paul in his usual self-contained manner; "it worries me
+to think you are so hard-up, though I'm not a fellow given to sentiment
+as a rule. Let me lend you a fiver."
+
+Paul shook his head. "Thank you all the same."
+
+"Well, then, sell me the brooch."
+
+Beecot suddenly looked squarely at Hay, who met his gaze calmly. "Do you
+know anything of that brooch?" he asked.
+
+"What do you mean? It is a brooch of Indian workmanship. That is all I
+know. I want to give a lady a present, and if you will sell it to me
+I'll take it, to help you, thus killing two birds at one shot."
+
+"I don't want to sell it," said Paul, looking round. His eyes fell on a
+respectable man across the road, who appeared to be a workman, as he had
+a bag of tools on his shoulder. He was looking into a shop window, but
+also--as Paul suddenly thought--seemed to be observing him and Hay.
+However, the incident was not worth noticing, so he continued his
+speech to Grexon. "I tried to pawn it with Aaron Norman," he said.
+
+"Well, what did you get on it?" asked Hay, with a yawn.
+
+"Nothing. The old man fainted when I showed him the brooch. That is why
+I asked you if you know anything strange about the article."
+
+Hay shook his head, but looked curiously at Beecot. "Do you know
+anything yourself?" he asked; "you seem to have something on your mind
+about that brooch."
+
+"There is something queer about it," said Paul. "Why should Aaron Norman
+faint when he saw it?"
+
+Hay yawned again. "You had better ask your one-eyed friend--I think you
+said he was one-eyed."
+
+"He is, and a frightened sort of man. But there's nothing about that
+opal serpent to make him faint."
+
+"Perhaps he did so because it is in the shape of a serpent," suggested
+Grexon; "a constitutional failing, perhaps. Some people hate cats and
+other fluttering birds. Your one-eyed friend may have a loathing of
+snakes and can't bear to see the representation of one."
+
+"It might be that," said Beecot, after a pause. "Aaron is a strange sort
+of chap. A man with a past, I should say."
+
+"You make me curious," said Grexon, laughing in a bored manner. "I think
+I'll go to the shop myself and have a look at him."
+
+"Come with me when I next go," said Paul. "I had intended to call this
+afternoon; but I won't, until I hear from my mother."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"I want to learn how she came into possession of the brooch."
+
+"Pooh, nonsense," said Hay, contemptuously, "you think too much about
+the thing. Who cares if a pawnbroker faints? Why I wish to go to the
+shop, is, because I am anxious to see your lady-love. Well, when you do
+want me to go, send for me; you have my address. 'Day, old man," and the
+gorgeous being sauntered away, with apparently not a care in the world
+to render him anxious.
+
+Paul was anxious, however. The more he thought of the episode of the
+brooch the stranger it seemed, and Sylvia's talk of her father's queer
+habits did not make Paul wonder the less. However, he resolved to write
+to his mother, and was just mounting his stairs to do so when he heard a
+"Beg pardon, sir," and beheld the working man, bag of tools, pipe and
+all.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, civilly, "but that gentleman you was
+a-talking to. Know his name, sir?"
+
+"What the devil's that to you?" asked Paul, angrily.
+
+"Nothing, sir, only he owes me a little bill."
+
+"Go and ask him for it then."
+
+"I don't know his address, sir."
+
+"Oh, be hanged!" Paul went on, when the man spoke again.
+
+"He's what I call a man on the market, sir. Have a care," and he
+departed quickly.
+
+Paul stared. What did the working man mean, and was he a working man?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE UNFORESEEN
+
+
+Paul did not go near the Gwynne Street shop for the next few days, much
+as he wanted to do so. Being deeply in love he could hardly bear to be
+away from Sylvia even for a few hours: but in spite of this he remained
+away for two reasons. The first of these was that he awaited a reply to
+his letter written to Mrs. Beecot, as he wished to be able to tell Aaron
+Norman where the brooch had been obtained. He thought by doing this to
+ingratiate himself with the old man, and perhaps, if thus confidential,
+might learn, for the satisfaction of his curiosity, why the sight of the
+brooch had produced such an effect on the pawnbroker.
+
+The other reason was that, not having been able to sell the brooch, or
+rather pawn it since he did not wish to lose it altogether, funds were
+running low, and now he had but a few shillings left. A call at the
+office of a penny weekly had resulted in the return of three stories as
+being too long and not the sort required. But the editor, in a hasty
+interview, admitted that he liked Paul's work and would give him three
+pounds for a tale written on certain lines likely to be popular with the
+public. Paul did not care to set forth another person's ideas,
+especially as these were old and very sensational; but as he required
+money he set to work and labored to produce what would bring him in the
+cash. He made several attempts before he reached the editor's level,
+which was low rather than high, and succeeded in getting the tale
+accepted. With three golden pounds in his pocket and exultation in his
+heart--for every success seemed to bring him nearer to Sylvia--Paul
+returned to his aerial castle and found waiting for him the expected
+letter.
+
+It was written in a low-spirited sort of way, characteristic of Mrs.
+Beecot, but with a true motherly heart. After two pages of lamentation
+over his absence, and a description of how the head of the household
+managed to bear up against the affliction of his son's absence, Mrs.
+Beecot proceeded to explain about the brooch.
+
+"Why do you ask me about the opal brooch, my dear boy?" wrote Mrs.
+Beecot in her scratchy handwriting. "All I know is that your father
+bought it out of a pawnbroker's shop in Stowley, which is some town in
+the Midlands. Your father was travelling there and saw the brooch by
+chance. As I always thought opals unlucky he was anxious to make me see
+the folly of such a superstition, so he bought the brooch and took it
+away with him. Afterwards, I believe, he received a letter from the
+pawnbroker, saying that his assistant had sold the brooch by mistake,
+that the time for redeeming it had not run out when your father bought
+it. The pawnbroker asked that the brooch might be returned, and wanted
+to pay back the money. But you know what your father is. He refused at
+once to give back the brooch, and insisted on my wearing it. I had a bad
+fall while wearing it, and then was thrown out of that high dog-cart
+your father would insist on driving. I am sure the brooch or the stones
+is unlucky, and, as after a time your father forgot all about it, I let
+it lie in my jewel-case. For years I had not worn it, and as I think it
+is unlucky, and as you need money, my darling boy, I hope you will sell
+it. There is no need to pawn it as you say. I never want to see the
+brooch again. But regarding your health, etc., etc."
+
+So Mrs. Beecot wrote in her verbose style, and with some errors of
+grammar. Paul saw in her simple tale fresh evidence of his father's
+tyranny, since he made his wife wear gems she detested and was
+superstitiously set against possessing them. The dog-cart episode Paul
+remembered very well. Mr. Beecot, in his amiable way, had no patience
+with his wife's nerves, and never lost an opportunity of placing her in
+unpleasant positions, whereby she might be, what he called, hardened.
+Paul sighed to think of his mother's position as he folded up the
+letter. She had a bad time with the truculent husband she had married.
+"And I can't believe she became his wife of her own free will," thought
+Paul; "probably the governor bullied her into it in his own sweet way."
+
+However, there was nothing in the letter to explain Norman's faint. It
+was certainly strange that the pawnbroker, from whom the brooch had been
+originally purchased, should have demanded it back; and the excuse given
+seems rather a weak one. However, Paul did not waste time in thinking
+over this, but resolved to tell Aaron what his mother had said.
+
+He had received two letters from Sylvia, mentioning, amongst other
+things, that her father, now quite well, was asking after Paul, and
+urging him to come and see him. "My father appears to have a fancy for
+you," wrote Sylvia, "so if you are very nice--as nice as you can
+be--perhaps he won't be very angry if you tell him we are engaged."
+There was much more to the same effect, which Paul thought good advice,
+and he intended to adopt the same. It was necessary that he should tell
+Aaron of his love if things were to be conducted in a straightforward
+and honorable manner. And Paul had no desire to conduct them otherwise.
+
+Having made up his mind to see Aaron again, Paul bethought himself of
+Grexon Hay. That gentleman had never appeared again at the Bloomsbury
+garret, and had never even written. But Paul was anxious that Hay--whom
+he regarded as a clever man-of-the-world--should see the old man, and,
+as our trans-Atlantic cousins say, "size him up." Norman's manner and
+queer life puzzled Paul not a little, and not being very worldly himself
+he was anxious to have the advice of his old school friend, who seemed
+desirous of doing him a good turn, witness his desire to buy the brooch
+so that Paul might be supplied with money. So Beecot wrote to Grexon Hay
+at his Camden Hill chamber and told him he intended to go to Gwynne
+Street on a certain day at a certain time. To this Grexon responded by
+saying that he was at Paul's service and would come especially as he
+wanted to see Dulcinea of Gwynne Street.
+
+Paul laughed at the phrase. "I suppose Grexon thinks I am very
+Quixotic," he thought, "coming to London to tilt with the windmills of
+the Press. But Don Quixote was wise in spite of his apparent madness,
+and Grexon will recognize my wisdom when he sees my Dulcinea, bless her!
+Humph! I wonder if Hay could pacify my father and make him look more
+kindly on my ambitions. Grexon is a clever fellow, a thoroughly good
+chap, so--"
+
+Here Paul paused to think. The incident of the working man and the
+warning he had given about Hay recurred to his mind. Also the phrase
+"Man on the Market" stuck in his memory. Why should Grexon Hay be called
+so, and what did the phrase mean? Paul had never heard it before.
+Moreover, from certain indications Beecot did not think that the
+individual with the bag of tools was a working man. He rather appeared
+to be a person got up to play the part. The fellow watching them both
+and accosting Paul alone certainly seemed a doubtful character. Beecot
+regretted that he had been so short with the man, else he might have
+learned why he had acted in this way. The story of the little bill was
+absurd, for if Grexon owed the man money the man himself would certainly
+have known the name and address of his creditor. Altogether, the
+incident puzzled Paul almost as much as that of Aaron's fainting, and he
+resolved to question Grexon. But it never crossed his mind that Hay was
+anything else but what he appeared to be--a man-about-town with a
+sufficient income to live upon comfortably. Had Paul doubted he would
+never have asked Grexon to go with him to Gwynne Street. However, he had
+done so, and the appointment was made, so there was no more to be said.
+
+The man-about-town duly made his appearance to the very minute. "I
+always keep appointments," he explained when Paul congratulated him on
+his punctuality; "there's nothing annoys me so much as to be kept
+waiting, so I invariably practise what I preach. Well, Paul, and how is
+Dulcinea of Gwynne Street?"
+
+"She is very well," replied Paul, who was still a young enough lover to
+blush, "but I have not seen her since we last met. I waited for a letter
+from my mother about the brooch, so that I might explain to Aaron how
+she got it. The old man has been asking after me."
+
+"Oh, confound the brooch!" said Grexon in his cool manner. "I don't want
+to hear about it. Let us talk of Dulcinea."
+
+"Rather let us talk of yourself," said Paul.
+
+"Not an interesting subject," replied Hay, rising as Paul opened his
+garret door for departure, "you know all about me."
+
+"No! I don't know why you are called a man-on-the-market."
+
+Hay flushed and turned sharply. "What do you mean?" he asked in a
+particularly quiet tone.
+
+"I don't know what I _do_ mean," said Paul. "Do you remember that
+working man with the bag of tools who was across the road when we last
+conversed?"
+
+"No," said Hay, staring, "I never notice creatures of that class. Why?"
+
+"Because he asked me who you were and where you lived. It seems you owe
+him some money."
+
+"That is very probable," said Hay, equably. "I owe most people money,
+and if this man has a debt against me he would certainly know all about
+me as to address and name."
+
+"So I thought," replied Paul, "but the queer thing is that he told me to
+take care, and called you a man-on-the-market. What does it mean? I
+never heard the phrase before."
+
+"I have," said Hay, proceeding calmly down the somewhat steep stairs; "a
+man-on-the-market means one who wants to marry and is eligible for any
+heiress who comes along with a sufficient rent-roll. But why should a
+fellow like that talk the shibboleth of Society?"
+
+Paul shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say. Perhaps the man guessed I
+intended to take you to see Sylvia, and warned me against you, as it
+seems from his phrase that you wish to marry."
+
+"Ah! Then your Dulcinea is an heiress?" said Hay, fixing his eye-glass
+carefully; "if so, you needn't fear me. I am almost engaged and won't be
+on the market any longer. What confounded cheek this fellow addressing
+you in that way and talking of me as he did. I suppose," he added with
+a cold laugh, "it is not necessary for me to defend myself."
+
+"What rubbish," replied Beecot, good-naturedly. "All the same, it is
+strange the man should have spoken to me as he did. I told him to go to
+the devil."
+
+"And go to the devil he assuredly will if I meet him," was the dry
+reply. "I'll break his head for not minding his own business. I think I
+can explain, and will do so as soon as you take that telegram the lad is
+holding out for you."
+
+Grexon was quicker-sighted than Paul, for the moment they arrived at the
+bottom of the stairs and were about to emerge into the street he saw the
+messenger. "Do you know if any gent of that name lives here, guvnor?"
+asked the boy, holding out the buff-colored envelope.
+
+Beecot, to his surprise, saw his own name. "Who can be wiring to me?" he
+said, taking the telegram. "Wait, boy, there may be an answer," and he
+skimmed through the lines. "Don't sell the brooch, but send it back,"
+read Paul, puzzled, "your father angry.--MOTHER." He paused, and looked
+at the boy. "Got a form?" he asked.
+
+The lad produced one and a stumpy pencil. With these materials Beecot
+wrote a reply saying the brooch would be returned on the morrow. When
+the boy went away with the answer Paul felt in his breast pocket and
+took out the old blue case. "I've a good mind to send it now," he said
+aloud.
+
+"What's that?" asked Hay, who was yawning at the door. "No bad news I
+hope?"
+
+"It's about that brooch again."
+
+Hay laughed. "Upon my word it seems to you what the Monster was to
+Frankenstein," said he. "Send it back--to Mrs. Beecot, I presume--and
+have done with it." He cast a glance at the case. "I see you have it
+with you," he ended, lightly.
+
+"Yes," said Paul, and replacing the case in his pocket went down the
+street with his friend. Then he determined to ask his opinion, and
+related the gist of Mrs. Beecot's letter. "And now the mater wires to
+have it back," he said. "I expect my father has found out that she has
+sent it to me, and is furious."
+
+"Well, send it back and have done with it," said Hay, impatiently; "you
+are in danger of becoming a bore with that brooch, Beecot. I'll lend you
+money if you like."
+
+"No, thanks, I have three pounds honestly earned. However, we'll speak
+no more of the brooch. I'll send it back this very day. Tell me," he
+linked his arm within that of his friend, "tell me of that man."
+
+"That man--of the working creature," said Hay, absently. "Pooh, the man
+was no more a working man than I am."
+
+"Well, I thought myself he was a bit of a fraud."
+
+"Detectives never do make up well," said Grexon, calmly.
+
+Paul stopped as they turned into Oxford Street. "What? Was the man a
+detective?"
+
+"I think so, from your description of his conversation. The fact is I'm
+in love with a lady who is married. We have behaved quite well, and no
+one can say a word against us. But her husband is a beast and wants a
+divorce. I have suspected for some time that he is having me
+watched. Thanks to you, Paul, I am now sure. So perhaps you will
+understand why the man warned you against me and talked of my being a
+man-on-the-market."
+
+"I see," said Paul, hesitating; "but don't get into trouble, Hay."
+
+"Oh, I'm all right. And I don't intend to do anything dishonorable, if
+that is what you mean. It's the husband's fault, not mine. By the way,
+can you describe the fellow?"
+
+"Yes. He had red hair and a red beard--rather a ruddy face, and walked
+with a limp."
+
+"All put on," said Hay, contemptuously; "probably the limp was affected,
+the beard false, the hair a wig, and the face rouged--very clumsy
+indeed. I daresay he'll appear pale and gentlemanly the next time he
+watches me. I know the tricks of these fellows."
+
+The two friends talked for some time about this episode, and then
+branched off into other subjects. Hay described the married lady he
+adored, and Paul rebuked him for entertaining such a passion. "It's not
+right, Hay," said he, positively; "you can't respect a woman who runs
+away from her husband."
+
+"She hasn't run away yet, Sir Galahad," laughed Grexon. "By Jove, you
+are an innocent!"
+
+"If that means respecting the institution of marriage and adoring women
+as angels I hope I'll remain an innocent."
+
+"Oh, women are angels, of course," said Hay as they walked down Gwynne
+Street; "it's a stock phrase in love-making. But there are angels of two
+sorts. Dulcinea is--"
+
+"Here we are," interrupted Paul, quickly. Somehow it irritated him to
+hear this hardened sinner speak of Sylvia, and he began to think that
+Grexon Hay had deteriorated. Not that he was considered to be
+particularly good at Torrington school. In fact, Paul remembered that he
+had been thoroughly disliked. However, he had no time to go into the
+matter, for at this moment Aaron appeared at the door of the shop. He
+stepped out on to the pavement as Paul approached. "Come in," he said,
+"I want to see you--privately," he added, casting a frightened look at
+Hay.
+
+"In that case I'll leave you," said Grexon, disengaging his arm from
+Paul. "Dulcinea must wait for another occasion. Go in and do your
+business. I'll wait without."
+
+Paul thanked his friend by a look and went into the shop with the old
+man. "That brooch," said Aaron, in a timid whisper, "have you got it?
+Give it to me--quick--quick."
+
+There was no one in the shop as Bart had apparently gone out on an
+errand. The door leading to the stairs, down which Sylvia had so often
+descended, was closed, and no one was about to overhear their
+conversation. "I have the brooch," said Paul, "but--"
+
+"Give it to me--give it," panted Aaron. "I'll buy it--at a large price.
+Ask what you want."
+
+"Why are you so eager to get it?" demanded Beecot, astonished.
+
+"That's my business," said Norman, in a suddenly imperious manner. "I
+want it. The stones take my fancy," he ended weakly.
+
+"Was that why you fainted?" asked Paul, suspiciously.
+
+"No." The man grew white and leaned against the counter, breathing
+heavily. "Where did you get the brooch?" he asked, trying to keep
+himself calm, but with a visible effort.
+
+"I got it from my mother, and she received it from my father--"
+
+"Beecot--Beecot," said the old man, fingering his lips, much agitated.
+"I know no one of that name save yourself, and you are not a spy--a
+scoundrel--a--a--" He caught the eyes of Paul fixed on him in amazement,
+and suddenly changed his tone. "Excuse me, but the brooch reminds me of
+trouble."
+
+"You have seen it before?"
+
+"Yes--that is no--don't ask me." He clutched at his throat as though he
+felt choked. "I can't talk of it. I daren't. How did your father get
+it?"
+
+More and more astonished, Paul explained. Aaron listened with his one
+eye very bright, and made uneasy motions with his lean hands as the
+young man spoke. When Beecot ended he bit his nails. "Yes, yes," he
+murmured to himself, "it would be asked for back. But it sha'n't go
+back. I want it. Sell it to me, Mr. Beecot."
+
+"I'm sorry I can't," replied Paul, good-naturedly. "But my mother wired
+that it was to be returned. My father has discovered that she sent it to
+me and is not pleased."
+
+"Did you tell your mother you had shown it to me?"
+
+"No. There was no need."
+
+"God bless you!" breathed the man, pulling out a crimson handkerchief.
+"Of course there was no need," he tittered nervously. "It doesn't do to
+talk of pawning things--not respectable, eh--eh." He wiped his face and
+passed his tongue over his white lips. "Well, you won't sell it to me?"
+
+"I can't. But I'll ask my mother if she will."
+
+"No, no! Don't do that--say nothing--say nothing. I don't want the
+brooch. I never saw the brooch--what brooch--pooh--pooh, don't talk to
+me of the brooch," and so he babbled on.
+
+"Mr. Norman," said Beecot, gravely, "what is the story connected with
+the brooch?"
+
+Aaron flung up his hands and backed towards the counter. "No, no. Don't
+ask me. What do you mean? I know no story of a brooch--what brooch--I
+never saw one--I never--ah"--he broke off in relief as two pale-faced,
+spectacled girls entered the shop--"customers. What is it, ladies? How
+can I serve you?" And he bustled away behind the counter, giving all his
+attention to the customers, yet not without a sidelong look in the
+direction of the perplexed Paul.
+
+That young gentleman, finding it impossible to get further speech with
+Aaron, and suspecting from his manner that all was not right, left the
+shop. He determined to take the brooch to Wargrove himself, and to ask
+his mother about it. Then he could learn why she wanted it back--if not
+from her, then from his father. This knowledge might explain the
+mystery.
+
+"Did you sell the brooch?" asked Grexon as they walked up Gwynne Street.
+
+"No. I have to send it back to my mother, and--"
+
+"Hold on!" cried Hay, stumbling. "Orange-peel--ah--"
+
+His stumble knocked Paul into the middle of the road. A motor car was
+coming down swiftly. Before Hay could realize what had taken place Paul
+was under the wheels of the machine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+TROUBLE
+
+
+"Oh, Debby," wept Sylvia, "he will die--he will die."
+
+"Not he, my precious pet," said the handmaiden, fondling the girl's soft
+hands within her own hard ones. "Them sort of young men have as many
+lives as tom cats. Bless you, my flower, he'll be up and ready, waiting
+at the altar, before the fashions change--and that's quick enough,"
+added Deborah, rubbing her snub nose. "For they're allays an-altering
+and a-turning and a-changing of 'em."
+
+The two were in the sitting-room over the bookshop. It was a
+low-ceilinged apartment, long and narrow, with windows back and front,
+as it extended the whole depth of the house. The back windows looked out
+on the dingy little yard, but these Norman had filled in with stained
+glass of a dark color, so that no one could see clearly out of them. Why
+he had done so was a mystery to Sylvia, though Deborah suspected the old
+man did not want anyone to see the many people who came to the back
+steps after seven. From the front windows could be seen the street and
+the opposite houses, and on the sills of the windows Sylvia cultivated a
+few cheap flowers, which were her delight. The room was furnished with
+all manner of odds and ends, flotsam and jetsam of innumerable sales
+attended by Aaron. There were Japanese screens, Empire sofas, mahogany
+chairs, Persian praying mats, Louis Quatorz tables, Arabic tiles,
+Worcester china, an antique piano that might have come out of the ark,
+and many other things of epochs which had passed away. Sylvia herself
+bloomed like a fair flower amidst this wreckage of former times.
+
+But the flower drooped at this moment and seemed in danger of dying for
+lack of sunshine. That, indeed, had been taken away by the removal of
+the young lover. Bart, who had witnessed the accident, returned hastily
+to tell Sylvia, and so great had the shock of the dreadful news been,
+that she had fainted, whereupon the foolish shopman had been severely
+dealt with by Deborah. When Sylvia recovered, however, she insisted upon
+seeing Bart again, and then learned that Paul had been taken to Charing
+Cross Hospital.
+
+"They drawed him from under the wheels, miss, as white as a vellum
+binding as ain't bin used. That gent as he was a-walking arm-in-arm
+with, slipped and knocked Mr. Beecot spinning under the steam engine."
+So did Bart describe the latest triumph of civilisation. "He was that
+sorry, in a cold-blooded way, as I never saw. He helped to git Mr.
+Beecot into a cab and druve off. Then I come to tell you."
+
+"And a nice way you've told it," grunted Deborah, driving him to the
+door. "Get back to the shop, you threadpaper of a man. My husband shall
+never be such a fool. The engagement's off."
+
+"Oh, Debby!" whimpered Bart, who, strange to say, was fondly attached to
+the stout servant. But that may have been habit.
+
+"Get along with you," she said, and banged the door in his face. "And
+don't tell master," she bawled after him, "else he'll be fainting again,
+drat him for a lily-livered duck!"
+
+So Aaron never knew that the man who possessed the brooch had been run
+over by a motor or was in the hospital. Sylvia and Deborah both tried
+to look as cheerful as possible, and schemed how to see the lover who
+had thus been laid low. Deborah boldly announced that she was taking
+Sylvia to buy her a new dress--that is, to choose it, for the cost was
+to be paid out of the servant's wages--and went with her one afternoon
+to the hospital. They heard that Paul's arm was broken, and that he had
+been slightly hurt about the head. But there was no danger of his dying,
+and although they were not allowed to see him the two women returned
+greatly cheered. But Sylvia frequently gave way to low spirits, thinking
+that at any moment the good symptoms might give way to bad ones. Deborah
+always cheered her, and went daily to get news. Always she returned to
+say, "He's a-goin' on nicely, and has that color as he might be a
+sunset." So Sylvia was bright until her next fit of low spirits came.
+
+Meanwhile, their attention was taken up by the odd behavior of Aaron.
+The old man suddenly announced that he was about to sell the shop and
+retire, and displayed a feverish haste in getting rid of his stock, even
+at a low price. Whether he sold the jewels so cheap as the books no one
+ever knew; but certainly the pundit caste did well out of the sale.
+Within the week the shop below was denuded, and there were nothing but
+bare shelves, much to the disgust of Bart, who, like Othello, found his
+occupation gone. The next day the furniture was to be sold, and when
+Deborah was comforting Sylvia at the week's end the fiat had already
+gone forth. Whither he intended to transfer his household the old man
+did not say, and this, in particular, was the cause of Sylvia's grief.
+She dreaded lest she should see her lover no more. This she said to
+Deborah.
+
+"See him you shall, and this very day," cried the maiden, cheerfully.
+"Why, there's that dress. I can't make up my mind whether to have
+magenter or liliac, both being suited to my complexion. Not that it's
+cream of the valley smother in rosebuds as yours is, my angel, but a
+dress I must have, and your pa can't deny my taking you to choose."
+
+"But, Debby, it seems wrong to deceive father in this way."
+
+"It do," admitted Debby, "and it is. We'll speak this very night--you
+and me in duets, as you might say, my pretty. He sha'n't say as we've
+gone to hide behind a hedge."
+
+"But we have, Debby, for six months," said Sylvia.
+
+"Because I'm a hardened and bold creature," said Deborah, fiercely, "so
+don't say it's you as held your tongue, for that you didn't, my
+honeycomb. Many and many a time have you said to me, ses you, 'Oh, do
+tell my par,' and many a time have I said to you, ses I, 'No, my
+precious, not for Joseph,' whoever he may be, drat him!"
+
+"Now, Debby, you're taking all the blame on yourself!"
+
+"And who have the broader shoulders, you or me, my flower?" asked Debby,
+fondly. "I'm as wicked as Bart, and that's saying much, for the way he
+bolts his food is dreadful to think of. Never will I have a corkidile
+for a husband. But here," cried Deborah, beginning to bustle, "it's the
+dress I'm thinking of. Magenter or lilacs in full boom. What do you
+think, my honey-pot?"
+
+So the end of Deborah's shameless diplomacy was, that the two went, not
+to the inferior draper's where Debby bought her extraordinary
+garments--though they went there later in a Jesuitical manner--but to
+the hospital, where to her joy Sylvia was allowed to see Paul. He looked
+thin and pale, but was quite himself and very cheerful. "My darling," he
+said, kissing Sylvia's hand, while Debby sat bolt upright near the bed,
+with a large handbag, and played propriety by glaring. "Now I shall get
+well quickly. The sight of you is better than all medicine."
+
+"I should think so," sniffed Debby, graciously. "Where's your orchards,
+with sich a color."
+
+"You mean orchids, Debby," laughed Sylvia, who blushed a rosy red.
+
+"It's them things with lady slippers a size too large for your foot I'm
+a-thinking of, pet, and small it is enough for glarse boots as the fairy
+story do tell. But I'm a-taking up the precious time of billing and
+cooing, so I'll shut my mouth and my ears while you let loose your
+affections, my sweet ones, if you'll excuse the liberty, sir, me being
+as fond of my lovey there as you is your own self."
+
+"No, I can't admit that," said Paul, kissing Sylvia's hand again and
+holding it while he talked. "Darling, how good of you to come and see
+me."
+
+"It may be for the last time, Paul," said Sylvia, trying to keep back
+her tears, "but you'll give me your address, and I'll write."
+
+"Oh, Sylvia, what is it?"
+
+"My father has sold the books and is selling the house. We are going
+away. Where to I don't know."
+
+"Tumbucktook would suit him," snapped Debby, suddenly; "he's trying to
+get into some rabbit-hole. Why, I don't know."
+
+"I do," said Paul, lying back thoughtfully. He guessed that Aaron was
+moving because of the brooch, though why he should do so was a mystery.
+"Sylvia," he asked, "did your father see my accident?"
+
+"No, Paul. He was busy in the shop. Bart saw it, but Debby said he
+wasn't to tell father."
+
+"Because of the fainting," explained Debby; "the man ain't strong,
+though Sampson he may think himself--ah, and Goliath, too, for all I
+care. But why ask, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+Paul did not reply to her, but asked Sylvia another question. "Do you
+remember that opal brooch I showed you?"
+
+"The serpent. Yes?"
+
+"Well, it's lost."
+
+"Lost, Paul?"
+
+The young man nodded mournfully. "I'm very vexed about it," he said in a
+low tone; "my mother wanted it back. I was going to send it that very
+day, but when I met with the accident it got lost somehow. It wasn't in
+my pocket when my clothes were examined, though I asked for it as soon
+as I became conscious. My friend also couldn't tell me."
+
+"Him as caused the smashes," said Deborah, with several sniffs. "A nice
+pretty friend, I do say, sir."
+
+"It wasn't his fault, Deborah. Mr. Hay stumbled on a piece of orange
+peel and jostled against me. I was taken by surprise, and fell into the
+middle of the road just as the motor came along. Mr. Hay was more than
+sorry and has come to see me every day with books and fruit and all
+manner of things."
+
+"The least he could do," snapped the servant, "knocking folks into
+orspitals with his fine gent airs. I sawr him out of the winder while
+you was in the shop, and there he spoke law-de-daw to a brat of a boy as
+ought to be in gaol, seeing he smoked a cigar stump an' him but a
+ten-year-old guttersnipe. Ses I, oh, a painted maypole you is, I ses,
+with a face as hard as bath bricks. A bad un you are, ses I."
+
+"No, Deborah, you are wrong. Mr. Hay is my friend."
+
+"Never shall he be my pretty's friend," declared Debby, obstinately,
+"for if all the wickedness in him 'ud come out in his face, pimples
+would be as thick as smuts in a London fog. No, Mr. Beecot, call him not
+what you do call him, meaning friend, for Judas and Julius Cezar ain't
+in it with his Belzebubness."
+
+Beecot saw it was vain to stop this chatterer, so he turned to talk in
+whispers to Sylvia, while Debby murmured on like a brook, only she
+spoke loud enough at times to drown the whispering of the lovers.
+
+"Sylvia," said Paul, softly, "I want you to send your father to me."
+
+"Yes, Paul. Why do you wish to see him?"
+
+"Because he must be told of our love. I don't think he will be so hard
+as you think, and I am ashamed of not having told him before. I like to
+act honorably, and I fear, Sylvia darling, we have not been quite fair
+to your father."
+
+"I think so, too, Paul, and I intended to speak when we went home. But
+give me your address, so that if we go away unexpectedly I'll be able to
+write to you."
+
+Beecot gave her his Bloomsbury address, and also that of his old home at
+Wargrove in Essex. "Write care of my mother," he said, "and then my
+father won't get the letter."
+
+"Would he be angry if he knew?" asked the girl, timidly.
+
+Paul laughed to himself at the thought of the turkey-cock's rage. "I
+think he would, dearest," said he, "but that does not matter. Be true to
+me and I'll be true to you."
+
+Here the nurse came to turn the visitors away on the plea that Paul had
+talked quite enough. Debby flared up, but became meek when Sylvia lifted
+a reproving finger. Then Paul asked Debby to seek his Bloomsbury
+lodgings and bring to him any letters that might be waiting for him. "I
+expect to hear from my mother, and must write and tell her of my
+accident," said he. "I don't want to trouble Mr. Hay, but you, Debby--"
+
+"Bless you, Mr. Beecot, it ain't no trouble," said the servant,
+cheerfully, "and better me nor that 'aughty peacock, as ain't to be
+trusted, say what you will, seeing criminals is a-looking out of his
+eyes, hide one though he may with a piece of glarse, and I ses--"
+
+"You must go now, please," interposed the nurse.
+
+"Oh, thank you, ma'am, but my own mistress, as is a lady, do I obey
+only."
+
+"Debby, Debby," murmured Sylvia, and after kissing Paul, a farewell
+which Debby strove to hide from the nurse by getting in front of her and
+blocking the view, the two departed. The nurse laughed as she arranged
+Paul's pillows.
+
+"What a strange woman, Mr. Beecot."
+
+"Very," assented Paul, "quite a character, and as true as the needle of
+the compass."
+
+Meanwhile, Debby, ignorant of this flattering description, conducted
+Sylvia to the draper's shop, and finally fixed on a hideous magenta
+gown, which she ordered to be made quite plain. "With none of your
+fal-de-lals," commanded Miss Junk, snorting. "Plain sewing and good
+stuff is all I arsk for. And if there's any left over you can send home
+a 'at of the same, which I can brighten with a cockes feather as my mar
+wore at her wedding. There, my own," added Debby, as they emerged from
+the shop and took a 'bus to Gwynne Street, "that's as you'll allways see
+me dressed--plain and 'omely, with no more trimmings than you'll see on
+a washing-day jint, as I know to my cost from my mar's ecomicals."
+
+"Economy, Debby."
+
+"It ain't fur me to be using fine words, Miss Sylvia; cockatoos'
+feathers on a goose they'd be in my mouth. The 'ole dixionary kin do for
+you my flower, but pothooks and 'angers never was my loves, me having
+been at the wash-tub when rising eight, and stout at that."
+
+In this way Debby discoursed all the way home. On arriving in the room
+over the shop they found themselves confronted by Aaron, who looked
+less timid than usual, and glowered at the pair angrily. "Where have
+you been, Sylvia?" he asked.
+
+The girl could not tell a direct lie, and looked at Debby. That
+handmaiden, less scrupulous, was about to blurt forth a garbled account,
+when Sylvia stopped her with a resolute expression on her pretty face.
+"No, Debby," she commanded, "let me speak. Father, I have been to see
+Mr. Beecot at the Charing Cross Hospital."
+
+"And you couldn't have my flower do less as a good Smart 'un," put in
+Debby, anxiously, so as to avert the storm. "Girls is girls whatever you
+may think, sir, of them being dolls and dummies and--"
+
+"Hold your tongue, woman," cried Norman, fiercely, "let me talk. Why is
+Mr. Beecot in the hospital?"
+
+"He was knocked down," said Sylvia, quietly, "and his arm is broken. A
+motor car ran over him in Gwynne Street. He wants to see you, to tell
+you that he lost something."
+
+Norman turned even whiter than he was by nature, and the perspiration
+suddenly beaded his bald forehead. "The opal serpent!" he cried.
+
+"Yes--the brooch he showed me."
+
+"He showed you!" cried Aaron, with a groan. "And what did he tell you
+about it?--what--what--what--the truth or--" He became passionate.
+
+Debby grasped Aaron's arm and whirled him into the middle of the room
+like a feather. Then she planted herself before Sylvia, with her arms
+akimbo, and glared like a lioness. "You can pinch me, sir, or gives me
+black eyes and red noses if you like, but no finger on my precious, if I
+die for it."
+
+Aaron was staggered by this defiance, and looked fierce for the moment.
+Then he became timid again and cast the odd, anxious look over his
+shoulder. "Leave the room, Deborah," he said in a mild voice.
+
+The faithful maid replied by sitting down and folding her arms. "Get
+your wild horses, sir," she said, breathing heavily, "for only by them
+will I be tugged away." And she snorted so loudly that the room shook.
+
+"Pshaw," said Norman, crossly, "Sylvia, don't be afraid of me." He wiped
+his face nervously. "I only want to know of the brooch. I like the
+opals--I wanted to buy it from Mr. Beecot. He is poor--he wants money. I
+can give it to him, for--the--the brooch."
+
+He brought out the last word with a gasp, and again glanced over his
+shoulder. Sylvia, not at all afraid, approached and took the old man's
+hand. The watchful Deborah moved her chair an inch nearer, so as to be
+ready for any emergency. "Dear father," said the girl, "Mr. Beecot
+doesn't know where the brooch is. It was stolen from him when the
+accident happened. If you will see him he can tell you--"
+
+"Not where the brooch is," interrupted Aaron, trying to appear calm.
+"Well, well, it doesn't matter." He glanced anxiously at Sylvia. "You
+believe me, child, when I say it doesn't matter."
+
+A snort from Deborah plainly said that she had her doubts. Sylvia cast a
+reproving glance in her direction, whereupon she rose and committed
+perjury. "Of course it don't matter, sir," she said in a loud, hearty
+voice which made Aaron wince. "My precious believes you, though lie it
+might be. But folk so good as you, sir, who go to church when there
+ain't anyone to see, wouldn't tell lies without them a-choking of them
+in their blessed throats."
+
+"How do you know I go to church?" asked Norman, with the snarl of a
+trapped animal.
+
+"Bless you, sir, I don't need glarses at my age, though not so young as
+I might be. Church you enjiy, say what you may, you being as regular as
+the taxes, which is saying much. Lor' save us all!"
+
+Deborah might well exclaim this. Her master flung himself forward with
+outstretched hands clawing the air, and with his lips lifted like those
+of an enraged dog. "You she-cat," he said in a painfully hissing voice,
+"you're a spy, are you? They've set you to watch--to drag me to the
+gallows--" he broke off with a shiver. His rage cooled as suddenly as it
+had heated, and staggering to the sofa he sat down with his face hidden.
+"Not that--not that--oh, the years of pain and terror! To come to
+this--to this--Deborah--don't sell me. Don't. I'll give you money--I am
+rich. But if the opal serpent--if the opal--" He rose and began to beat
+the air with his hands.
+
+Sylvia, who had never seen her father like this, shrank back in terror,
+but Deborah, with all her wits about her, though she was wildly
+astonished, seized a carafe of water from the table and dashed the
+contents in his face. The old man gasped, shuddered, and, dripping wet,
+sank again on the sofa. But the approaching fit was past, and when he
+looked up after a moment or so, his voice was as calm as his face.
+"What's all this?" he asked, feebly.
+
+"Nothing, father," said Sylvia, kneeling beside him; "you must not doubt
+Debby, who is as true as steel."
+
+"Are you, Deborah?" asked Aaron, weakly.
+
+"I should think so," she declared, putting her arms round Sylvia, "so
+long, sir, as you don't hurt my flower."
+
+"I don't want to hurt her ..."
+
+"There's feelings as well as bones," said Deborah, hugging Sylvia so as
+to keep her from speaking, "and love you can't squash, try as you may,
+though, bless you, I'm not given to keeping company myself."
+
+"Love," said Aaron, vacantly. He seemed to think more of his troubles
+than of Sylvia going to visit a young man.
+
+"Love and Mr. Beecot," said Deborah. "She wants to marry him."
+
+"Why, then," said Aaron, calmly, "she shall marry him."
+
+Sylvia fell at his feet. "Oh, father--father, and I have kept it from
+you all these months. Forgive me--forgive me," and she wept.
+
+"My dear," he said, gently raising her, "there is nothing to forgive."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A NOISE IN THE NIGHT
+
+
+Both Deborah and Sylvia were astonished that Aaron should be so
+indifferent about their long concealment. They had expected and dreaded
+a storm, yet when the secret was told Mr. Norman appeared to take it as
+calmly as though he had known about the matter from the first. Indeed,
+he seemed perfectly indifferent, and when he raised Sylvia and made her
+sit beside him on the sofa he reverted to the brooch.
+
+"I shall certainly see Mr. Beecot," he said in a dreamy way. "Charing
+Cross Hospital--of course. I'll go to-morrow. I had intended to see
+about selling the furniture then, but I'll wait till the next day. I
+want the brooch first--yes--yes," and he opened and shut his hand in a
+strangely restless manner.
+
+The girl and the servant looked at one another in a perplexed way, for
+it was odd Norman should take the secret wooing of his daughter so
+quietly. He had never evinced much interest in Sylvia, who had been left
+mainly to the rough attentions of Miss Junk, but sometimes he had
+mentioned that Sylvia would be an heiress and fit to marry a poor peer.
+The love of Paul Beecot overthrew this scheme, if the man intended to
+carry it out, yet he did not seem to mind. Sylvia, thinking entirely of
+Paul, was glad, and the tense expression of her face relaxed; but
+Deborah sniffed, which was always an intimation that she intended to
+unburden her mind on an unpleasant subject.
+
+"Well, sir," she said, folding her arms and scratching her elbow, "I do
+think as offspring ain't lumps of dirt to be trod on in this way. I
+arsk"--she flung out her hand towards Sylvia--"Is she your own or is she
+not?"
+
+"She is my daughter," said Aaron, mildly. "Why do you ask?"
+
+"'Cause you don't take interest you should take in her marriage, which
+is made in heaven if ever marriage was."
+
+Norman raised his head like a war-horse at the sound of a trumpet-call.
+"Who talks of marriage?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Dear father," said Sylvia, gently, "did you not hear? I love Paul, and
+I want to marry him."
+
+Aaron stared at her. "He is not a good match for you," was his reply.
+
+"He is the man I love," cried Sylvia, tapping with her pretty foot.
+
+"Love," said Norman, with a melancholy smile, "there is no such thing,
+child. Talk of hate--for that exists," he clenched his hands again,
+"hate that is as cruel as the grave."
+
+"Well I'm sure, sir, and what 'ave hates to do with my beauty there? As
+to love, exist it do, for Bart's bin talked into filling his 'eart with
+the same, by me. I got it out of a _Family Herald_," explained Deborah,
+incoherently, "where gentry throw themselves on their knees to arsk
+'ands in marriage. Bart was down on his hunkers every night for two
+weeks before he proposed proper, and I ses, ses I--"
+
+"Will you hold your tongue?" interrupted Aaron, angrily; "you gabble
+gabble till you make my head ache. You confuse me."
+
+"I want to clear your 'ead," retorted Miss Junk, "seeing you take no
+interest in my pretty's livings."
+
+Norman placed his fingers under Sylvia's chin, and tipped it up so that
+he could gaze into her eyes. "Child, do you love him?" he asked gravely.
+
+"Oh, father!" whispered Sylvia, and said no more. The expression of her
+eyes was enough for Aaron, and he turned away with a sigh.
+
+"You know nothing about him," he said at length.
+
+"Begging pardon, sir, for being a gabbler," said Deborah, witheringly,
+"but know what he is we do--a fine young gent with long descents and
+stone figgers in churches, as Bart knows. Beecot's his par's name, as is
+fighting with Mr. Paul by reason of contrariness and 'igh living, him
+being as stout as stout."
+
+"Perhaps you will explain, Sylvia," said Aaron, turning impatiently from
+the handmaiden.
+
+"I should have explained before," said the girl, quietly and very
+distinctly. "I loved Paul from the moment I saw him enter the shop six
+months ago. He came again and again, and we often talked. Then he told
+me of his love, and I confessed mine. Deborah wanted to know who he was,
+and if he was a good man. From what I learned of Paul's people he seemed
+to be all that was good and generous and high-minded and loving. Deborah
+sent Bart one holiday to Wargrove in Essex, where Paul's parents live,
+and Bart found that Paul had left home because he wanted to be an
+author. Paul is very popular in Wargrove, and everyone speaks well of
+him. So Deborah thought we might be engaged, and--"
+
+"And have you a word to say against it, sir?" demanded Deborah,
+bristling.
+
+"No," said Aaron, after a pause, "but you should have told me."
+
+"We should," admitted Sylvia, quickly, "but Paul and I feared lest you
+should say 'No.'"
+
+"My child," said the old man, gravely, "so long as you wed a kind and
+good man I have nothing to say. Sylvia, I have worked hard these many
+years and have made much money, which, by will, I have left to you. When
+I die you will be rich. He is poor."
+
+"Paul--yes, he is poor. But what of that?"
+
+"Many fathers might think that an objection," went on Aaron without
+noticing her remark. "But I do not. You shall marry Paul before I go to
+America."
+
+"Lor'!" cried Deborah, "whatever are you a-goin' there for, sir?"
+
+"That's my business," said Aaron, dryly, "but I go as soon as I can. I
+have sold the books; and the furniture of these rooms shall be disposed
+of before the end of the week. My gems I take to Amsterdam for sale, and
+I go abroad next week. When I return in a fortnight you can marry Mr.
+Beecot. He is a good young man. I quite approve of him."
+
+Deborah snorted. "Seems to me as though you was glad to get quit of my
+pretty," she murmured, but too low to be overheard.
+
+"Oh, father," cried Sylvia, putting her arms round Norman's neck, "how
+good you are! I _do_ love him so."
+
+"I hope the love will continue," said her father, cynically, and
+removing the girl's arms, to the secret indignation of Deborah. "I shall
+call on Mr. Beecot to-morrow and speak to him myself about the matter.
+If we come to an arrangement, for I have a condition to make before I
+give my entire consent, I shall allow you a certain sum to live on. Then
+I shall go to America, and when I die you will inherit all my
+money--when I die," he added, casting the usual look over his shoulders.
+"But I won't die for many a long day," he said, with a determined air.
+"At least, I hope not."
+
+"You are healthy enough, father."
+
+"Yes! Yes--but healthy people die in queer ways."
+
+Deborah intervened impatiently. "I'm glad you wish to make my lily-queen
+happy, sir," said she, nodding, "but change your mind you may if Mr.
+Beecot don't fall in."
+
+"Fall in?" queried Aaron.
+
+"With this arrangements--what is they?"
+
+Aaron looked undecided, then spoke impulsively, walking towards the door
+as he did so. "Let Mr. Beecot give me that opal serpent," he said, "and
+he shall have Sylvia and enough to live on."
+
+"But, father, it is lost," cried Sylvia, in dismay.
+
+She spoke to the empty air. Norman had hastily passed through the door
+and was descending the stairs quicker than usual. Sylvia, in her
+eagerness to explain, would have followed, but Deborah drew her back
+with rough gentleness. "Let him go, lily-queen," she said; "let sleeping
+dogs lie if you love me."
+
+"Deborah, what do you mean?" asked Sylvia, breathlessly.
+
+"I don't mean anything that have a meaning," said Miss Junk,
+enigmatically, "but your par's willing to sell you for that dratted
+brooch, whatever he wants it for. And you to be put against a brooch my
+honey-pot. I'm biling--yes, biling hard," and Deborah snorted in proof
+of the extremity of her rage.
+
+"Never mind, Debby. Father consents that I shall marry Paul, and will
+give us enough to live on. Then Paul will write great books, and his
+father will ask him home again. Oh--oh!" Sylvia danced round the room
+gaily, "how happy I am."
+
+"And happy you shall be if I die for it," shouted Deborah, screwing up
+her face, for she was not altogether satisfied, "though mysteries I
+don't hold with, are about. America--what's he going to America for? and
+with that brooch, and him locking us up every night to sleep in cellars.
+Police-courts and Old Baileys," said Miss Junk, frowning. "I don't like
+it, Sunbeam, and when you're married to Mr. Beecot I'll be that happy as
+never was."
+
+Sylvia opened her grey eyes in wide surprise and a little alarm. "Oh,
+Debby, you don't think there's anything wrong with father?"
+
+Miss Junk privately thought there was a good deal wrong, but she folded
+Sylvia in her stout arms and dismissed the question with a snort. "No,
+lovey, my own, there ain't. It's just my silly way of going on. Orange
+buds and brides the sun shines on, is your fortunes, Miss Sylvia, though
+how I'm going to call you Mrs. Beecot beats me," and Deborah rubbed her
+nose.
+
+"I shall always be Sylvia to you."
+
+"Bless you, lady-bird, but don't ask me to live with Mr. Beecot's
+frantic par, else there'll be scratchings if he don't do proper what he
+should do and don't. So there." Deborah swung her arms like a windmill.
+"My mind's easy and dinner's waiting, for, love or no love, eat you
+must, to keep your insides' clockwork."
+
+When Bart heard the joyful news he was glad, but expressed regret that
+Norman should go to America. He did not wish to lose his situation, and
+never thought the old man would take him to the States also. Deborah
+vowed that if Aaron did want to transport Bart--so she put it--she would
+object. Then she unfolded a scheme by which, with Bart's savings and her
+own, they could start a laundry. "And I knows a drying ground," said
+Deborah, while talking at supper to her proposed husband, "as is lovely
+and cheap. One of them suburbs on the line to Essex, where my pretty
+will live when her husband's frantic par makes it up. Jubileetown's the
+place, and Victoria Avenue the street. The sweetest cottage at twenty
+pun' a year as I ever set eyes on. And m'sister as is married to a
+bricklayer is near to help with the family."
+
+"The family?" echoed Bart, looking scared.
+
+"In course--they will come, though it's early to be thinking of names
+for 'em. I'll do the washing, Bart, and you'll take round the cart, so
+don't you think things 'ull be otherwise."
+
+"I don't want 'em to," said Bart, affectionately. "I always loved you,
+Debby darling."
+
+"Ah," said Miss Junk, luxuriously, "I've taught you to, in quite a
+genteel way. What a scrubby little brat you were, Bart!"
+
+"Yuss," said Mr. Tawsey, eating rapidly. "I saw myself to-day."
+
+"In a looking-glarse?"
+
+"Lor', Debby--no. But there wos a brat all rags and dirty face and sauce
+as I was when you saw me fust. He come into the shop as bold as brass
+and arsked fur a book. I ses, 'What do you want with a book?' and he
+ses, looking at the shelves so empty, 'I sees your sellin' off,' he ses,
+so I jumped up to clip him over the 'ead, when he cut. Tray's his name,
+Debby, and he's the kid as talked to that cold gent Mr. Beecot brought
+along with him when he got smashed."
+
+"Tray--that's a dog's name," said Deborah, "old dog Tray, and quite good
+enough for guttersnipes. As to Mr. Hay, don't arsk me to say he's good,
+for that he ain't. What's he want talking with gutter Trays?"
+
+"And what do gutter Trays want with books?" asked Bart, "though to be
+sure 'twas impertinence maybe."
+
+Deborah nodded. "That it was, and what you'd have done when you was a
+scrubby thing. Don't bolt your food, but make every bit 'elp you to
+'ealth and long living. You won't 'ave gormandising when we've got the
+laundry, I can tell you."
+
+Next day Aaron went off in the afternoon to Charing Cross Hospital,
+after holding a conversation with a broker who had agreed to buy the
+derelict furniture. The shop, being empty, was supposed to be closed,
+but from force of habit Bart took down the shutters and lurked
+disconsolately behind the bare counter. Several old customers who had
+not heard of the sale entered, and were disappointed when they learned
+that Aaron was leaving. Their lamentations made Bart quite low-spirited.
+However, he was polite to all, but his manners broke down when a Hindoo
+entered to sell boot-laces. "I ain't got nothing to sell, and don't want
+to buy nohow," said Bart, violently.
+
+The man did not move, but stood impassively in the doorway like a bronze
+statue. He wore a dirty red turban carelessly wound round his small
+head, an unclean blouse which had once been white, circled by a yellow
+handkerchief of some coarse stuff, dark blue trousers and slippers with
+curled-up toes on naked feet. His eyes were black and sparkling and he
+had a well-trimmed moustache which contrasted oddly with his shabby
+attire. "Hokar is poor: Hokar need money," he whined in a monotone, but
+with his eyes glancing restlessly round the shop. "Give Hokar--give,"
+and he held out the laces.
+
+"Don't want any, I tell you," shouted Bart, tartly. "I'll call a peeler
+if you don't git."
+
+"Ho! ho! who stole the donkey?" cried a shrill voice at the door, and
+from behind the hawker was poked a touzelled curly head, and a grinning
+face which sadly needed washing. "You leave this cove alone, won't y?
+He's a pal o' mine. D'y see?"
+
+"You git along with your pal then," cried Bart, indignantly. "If he
+don't understand King's English, you do, Tray."
+
+Tray darted into the middle of the shop and made a face at the indignant
+shopman by putting his fingers in his mouth to widen it, and pulling
+down his eyes. Hokar never smiled, but showed no disposition to move.
+Bart, angered at this blocking up the doorway, and by Tray's war dance,
+jumped the counter. He aimed a blow at the guttersnipe's head, but
+missed it and fell full length. The next moment Tray was dancing on his
+body with his tongue out derisively. Then Hokar gave a weird smile.
+"Kalee!" he said to himself. "Kalee!"
+
+How the scene would have ended it is impossible to say, but while Bart
+strove to rise and overturn Tray, Aaron walked in past the Indian.
+"What's this?" he asked sharply. Tray stopped his dancing on Bart's
+prostrate body and gave a shrill whistle by placing two dirty fingers in
+his mouth. Then he darted between Norman's legs and made off. Hokar
+stood staring at the bookseller, and after a pause pointed with his
+finger. "One--eye," he said calmly, "no good!"
+
+Aaron was about to inquire what he meant by this insult, when the Indian
+walked to the counter and placed something thereon, after which he moved
+away, and his voice was heard dying away down the street. "Hokar is
+poor--Hokar need money. Hokar, Christian."
+
+"What's this?" demanded Norman, again assisting Bart roughly to his
+feet.
+
+"Blest if I know," replied Tawsey, staring; "they're mad, I think," and
+he related the incoming of the Indian and the street arab. "As for that
+Tray," said he, growling, "I'll punch his blooming 'ead when I meets him
+agin, dancing on me--yah. Allays meddlin' that brat, jus' as he wos
+when Mr. Beecot was smashed."
+
+"You saw that accident?" asked his master, fixing his one eye on him.
+
+"Yuss," said Bart, slowly, "I did, but Deborah she told me to say
+nothink. Mr. Beecot was smashed, and his friend, the cold eye-glarsed
+gent, pulled him from under the wheels of that there machine with Tray
+to help him, and between 'em they carried him to the pavement."
+
+"Humph!" said Aaron, resting his chin on his hand and speaking more to
+himself than to his assistant, "so Tray was on the spot. Humph!" Bart,
+having brushed himself, moved behind the counter and took up what Hokar
+had left. "Why, it's brown sugar!" he exclaimed, touching it with his
+tongue, "coarse brown sugar--a handful." He stretched out his palm
+heaped with the sugar to his master. "What do that furrein pusson mean
+by leaving dirt about?"
+
+"I don't know, nor do I care," snapped Aaron, who appeared to be out of
+temper. "Throw it away!" which Bart did, after grumbling again at the
+impudence of the street hawker.
+
+Norman did not go upstairs, but descended to the cellar, where he busied
+himself in looking over the contents of the three safes. In these, were
+many small boxes filled with gems of all kind, cut and uncut: also
+articles of jewellery consisting of necklaces, bracelets, stars for the
+hair, brooches, and tiaras. The jewels glittered in the flaring
+gaslight, and Aaron fondled them as though they were living things. "You
+beauties," he whispered to himself, with his one eye gloating over his
+hoard. "I'll sell you, though it goes to my heart to part with lovely
+things. But I must--I must--and then I'll go--not to America--oh, dear
+no! but to the South Seas. They won't find me there--no--no! I'll be
+rich, and happy, and free. Sylvia can marry and live happy. But the
+serpent," he said in a harsh tone, "oh, the opal serpent! The
+pawnbroker's shop. Stowley--yes--I know it. I know it. Stowley. They
+want it back; but they sha'n't. I'll buy it from Beecot by giving him
+Sylvia. It's lost--lost." He looked over his shoulder as he spoke in a
+terrified whisper. "Perhaps they have it, and then--then," he leaped up
+and flung the armful of baubles he held on to the deal table, "and
+then--I must get away--away."
+
+He pulled out three or four coarse sacks of a small size and filled
+these with the jewellery. Then he tied a cord round the neck of each
+sack and sealed it. Afterwards, with a sigh, he closed the safe and
+turned down the gas. He did not leave by the trap, which led through the
+shop, but opened and locked the back door of the cellar, ascended the
+steps and went out into the street through the side passage. "If they
+come," he thought as he walked into the gathering night, "they won't
+find these. No! no!" and he hugged the bags closely.
+
+Sylvia upstairs waited anxiously for the return of her father from the
+hospital, as she both wanted to hear how her lover was progressing and
+what he said about the permission to marry being given. But Aaron did
+not come to supper, as was his usual custom. Bart said, when inquiries
+were made, that the master had gone down into the cellar and was
+probably there. Meanwhile, according to his usual habit, he put up the
+shutters and departed. Sylvia and Deborah ate their frugal meal and
+retired to bed, the girl much disturbed at the absence of her father.
+Outside, in the street, the passers-by diminished in number, and as the
+night grew darker and the lamps were lighted hardly a person remained in
+Gwynne Street. It was not a fashionable thoroughfare, and after
+nightfall few people came that way. By eleven o'clock there was not a
+soul about. Even the one policeman who usually perambulated the street
+was conspicuous by his absence.
+
+Sylvia, in her bed, had fallen into a troubled sleep, and was dreaming
+of Paul, but not happily. She seemed to see him in trouble. Then she
+woke suddenly, with all her senses alert, and sat up. Faintly she heard
+a wild cry, and then came the twelve strokes of the church bells
+announcing midnight. Breathlessly she waited, but the cry was not
+repeated. In the darkness she sat up listening until the quarter chimed.
+Then the measured footsteps of a policeman were heard passing down the
+street and dying away. Sylvia was terrified. Why, she hardly knew: but
+she sprang from her bed and hurried into Deborah's room. "Wake up," she
+said, "there's something wrong."
+
+Deborah was awake in a moment and lighted the lamp. On hearing Sylvia's
+story she went down the stairs followed by the girl. The door at the
+bottom, strange to say, was not locked. Deborah opened this, and peering
+into the shop gave a cry of alarm and horror.
+
+Lying on the floor was Aaron, bound hand and foot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+A TERRIBLE NIGHT
+
+
+"Go back!--go back, my precious!" cried Deborah, her first thought being
+how to spare Sylvia the sight.
+
+But the girl, remembering that agonized cry which had awakened her,
+faint and far away as it sounded, pushed past the servant and ran into
+the middle of the shop. The lamp, held high by Deborah over her head,
+cast a bright circle of light on the floor, and in the middle of this
+Sylvia saw her father breathing heavily. His hands were bound behind his
+back in a painful way, his feet were tightly fastened, and his head
+seemed to be attached to the floor. At least, when the body (as it
+seemed from its stillness) suddenly writhed, it rolled to one side, but
+the head remained almost motionless. The two women hung back, clutching
+each other's hands, and were almost too horrified to move at the sight.
+"Look! Look!" cried Sylvia, gasping, "the mouth!" Deborah looked and
+gave a moan. Aaron's mouth was rigidly closed under a glittering jewel.
+Deborah bent down, still moaning, so great did the horror of the thing
+paralyse her speech, and saw the lights flash back from many diamonds:
+she saw bluish gleams and then a red sparkle like the ray of the setting
+sun. It was the opal serpent brooch, and Aaron's lips were fastened
+together with the stout pin. On his mouth and across his agonised face
+in which the one eye gleamed with terrific meaning the jewelled serpent
+seemed to writhe.
+
+"Oh, poor soul!" cried Deborah, falling on her knees with the lamp still
+held above her head. "Sylvia see--"
+
+The girl gasped again, and impulsively knelt also, trying with nerveless
+fingers to unfasten the cruel pin which sealed the man's lips. He still
+lived, for they heard him breathing and saw the gleaming eye: but even
+as they looked the face grew black: the eye opened and closed
+convulsively. Deborah set down the lamp and tried to raise the head. She
+could not lift it from the floor. Then the bound feet swung in the air
+and fell again with a dull thud. The eye remained wide open, staring in
+a glassy, manner: the breathing had stopped: and the body was
+motionless. "He's dead," said Deborah, leaping to her feet and catching
+away the girl. "Help! Help!"
+
+Her loud voice rang fiercely through the empty shop and echoed round and
+round. But there came no answering cry. Not a sound could be heard in
+the street. On the bare floor was the lamp shining on that dreadful
+sight: the body with sealed lips, and the glittering jewel, and leaning
+against the wall were the two women, Deborah staring at her dead master,
+but with Sylvia's eyes pressed against her bosom so that she might not
+witness the horror. And the stillness deepened weirdly every moment.
+
+Sylvia tried to move her head, but Deborah pressed it closer to her
+breast. "Don't, my pretty--don't," she whispered harshly.
+
+"I must--I--ah!" the girl freed her head from those kind arms with a
+wrench, and looked at the gruesome sight. She staggered forward a few
+steps, and then fell back. Deborah received her in her arms, and,
+thankful that Sylvia had fainted, carried her up the stairs to lay the
+unconscious girl on her own bed. Then she descended rapidly, locked the
+door leading from the shop to the stairs, and again looked at the body.
+The time she had been away was about seven or eight minutes, and the
+body still remained with the one open eye staring meaninglessly at the
+ceiling. Deborah, drawn by fascination like a bird by a serpent, crept
+forward and touched the head. It moved, and she again tried to lift it.
+This time she found she could do so. The head she lifted against her
+breast, and then laid it down with horror when she found the bosom of
+her nightgown was stained with blood. Pulling her wits together, for she
+felt that she needed them every one, she examined the head and neck. To
+her horror she found round the throat a strong thin copper wire, which
+disappeared through a hole in the floor. Apparently this had been pulled
+so tightly as to keep the head down and to choke the old man, and so
+cruelly as to cut deeply into the flesh. With a moan of horror Deborah
+dropped the head and ran to the trap-door in the corner. If anywhere,
+those who had murdered Aaron Norman were lurking in the cellar. But the
+trap-door would not open, and then she remembered that it was closed by
+a bolt underneath. She could not reach the midnight assassin that way.
+
+"The front door," she gasped, and ran to unbolt it. The bolts were
+easily removed, but the door was also locked, and Aaron usually had the
+key deposited nightly in the cellar by Bart. Repugnant as it was for her
+to approach the dead body, Deborah again went forward and felt in the
+pockets and loose clothing. The man was completely dressed, even to an
+overcoat which he wore. But she could not find the key and wondered what
+she was to do. Probably the key had been hung up in the cellar as usual.
+Necessity being the mother of invention, she remembered that the
+window-glass was fragile, and ran up in the hope of breaking through.
+But the stout shutters were up, so Deborah found that she was sealed in
+the house. Almost in a state of distraction, for by this time her nerve
+had given way, she unlocked the door to the stairs and ran up three
+steps at a time to the sitting-room. Here she opened the window and
+scrambled out on to the ledge among Sylvia's flower-pots. Just as she
+was wondering how she could get down, the measured tread of a policeman
+was heard, and by craning her neck Deborah saw him coming leisurely
+along the street, swinging his dark lantern on the windows and doors. It
+was a moonlight night and the street was extraordinarily well lighted as
+the moon shone straightly between the houses. Gathering her strength for
+a last effort, Deborah yelled as only she could yell, and saw the
+startled officer spinning round, looking up and down and sideways to see
+where the shrieks came from. "Up--up--oh, look up, you fool!" screamed
+Deborah. "Murder--oh, murder! Burst in the door, call the police, drat
+you! Help!--help!"
+
+By this time she was the centre of a circle of bright light, for the
+policeman had located her, and his lantern was flashing on her white
+nightgown as she clung to the window-sill.
+
+"What are you making that noise for?" called up the officer, gruffly.
+
+"Murder, you fool!" screamed Deborah. "Master's murdered. Number
+forty-five--the door's locked--break it open. Police!--police!"
+
+Before she finished the sentence the officer blew his whistle shrilly
+and ran to the door of the shop, against which he placed his shoulder.
+Deborah climbed in again by the window, and ran down again, but even
+then, in her excitement and horror, she did not forget to lock the door
+leading to the stairs, so that Sylvia might not be disturbed. As she
+descended she flung a thick shawl over her shoulders, which she had
+caught up when leaving her room, though for the rest she had nothing on
+but a nightgown. But the poor woman was too terrified to be troubled by
+any scruples at the moment, and reached the shop to hear heavy blows on
+the door. Between the thuds Deborah could hear footsteps running inward
+from every quarter. "I ain't got the key!" she shrieked through the
+keyhole; "break in the door, drat you! Murder!--murder!"
+
+From the noise she made those without concluded that some terrible crime
+was taking place within, and redoubled their efforts. Deborah had just
+time to leap back after a final scream when the door fell flat on the
+floor, and three policemen sprang into the room with drawn batons and
+their lights flashing like stars. The lamp was still on the floor
+shedding its heavy yellow light on the corpse. "Master!" gasped Deborah,
+pointing a shaking finger. "Dead--the--the cellar--the--" and here she
+made as to drop. A policeman caught her in his arms, but the woman shook
+herself free. "I sha'n't faint--no--I sha'n't faint," she gasped, "the
+cellar--look--look--" She ran forward and raised the head of the dead
+man. When the officers saw the dangling slack wire disappearing through
+a hole in the floor they grasped the situation. "The passage outside!"
+cried Deborah, directing operations; "the trap-door," she ran to it,
+"fast bolted below, and them murdering people are there."
+
+"How many are there?" asked a policeman, while several officers ran
+round the back through the side passage.
+
+"Oh, you dratted fool, how should I know!" cried Deborah, fiercely;
+"there may be one and there may be twenty. Go and catch them--you're
+paid for it. Send to number twenty Park Street, Bloomsbury, for Bart."
+
+"Who is Bart?"
+
+"Go and fetch him," cried Deborah, furious at this delay; "number twenty
+Park Street, Bloomsbury. Oh, what a night this is! I'm a-goin' to see
+Miss Sylvia, who has fainted, and small blame," and she made for the
+locked door. An officer came after her. "Go away," shrieked Deborah,
+pushing him back. "I've got next to nothink on, and my pretty is ill. Go
+away and do your business."
+
+Seeing she was distracted and hardly knew what she was saying, the man
+drew back, and Deborah ran up the stairs to Sylvia's room, where she
+found the poor girl still unconscious.
+
+Meanwhile, an Inspector had arrived, and one of the policemen was
+detailing all that had occurred from the time Deborah had given the
+alarm at the window. The Inspector listened quietly to everything, and
+then examined the body. "Strangled with a copper wire," he said, looking
+up. "Go for a doctor one of you. It goes through the floor," he added,
+touching the wire which still circled the throat, "and must have been
+pulled from below. Examine the cellar."
+
+Even as he spoke, and while one zealous officer ran off for a medical
+man, there was a grating sound and the trap-door was thrown open. A
+policeman leaped into the shop and saluted when he saw his superior. By
+this time the gas had been lighted. "We've broken down the back door,
+sir," said he, "the cellar door--it was locked but not bolted. Nothing
+in the cellar, everything in order, but that wire," he pointed to the
+means used for strangling, "dangled from the ceiling and a cross piece
+of wood is bound to the lower end."
+
+"Who does the shop belong to?"
+
+"Aaron Norman," said the policeman whose beat it was; "he's a
+second-hand bookseller, a quiet, harmless, timid sort of man."
+
+"Anyone about?"
+
+"No, sir. I passed down Gwynne Street at about a quarter past twelve and
+all seemed safe. When I come back later--it might have been twenty
+minutes and more--say twenty-five--I saw the woman who was down here
+clinging to a window on the first floor, and shouting murder. I gave the
+summons, sir, and we broke open the door."
+
+Inspector Prince laid down the dead man's head and rose to his feet with
+a nod. "I'll go upstairs and see the woman," he said; "tell me when the
+doctor comes."
+
+Upstairs he examined the sitting-room, and lighted the gas therein; then
+he mounted another storey after looking through the kitchen and
+dining-room. In a bedroom he found an empty bed, but heard someone
+talking in a room near at hand. Flinging open the door he heard a
+shriek, and found himself confronted by Deborah, who had hastily flung
+on some clothes. "Don't come in," she cried, extending her arm, "for I'm
+just getting Miss Sylvia round."
+
+"Nonsense," said the Inspector, and pushing her roughly aside he stepped
+into the room. On the bed lay Sylvia, apparently still unconscious, but
+as the man looked at her she opened her eyes with a long sigh. Deborah
+put her arms round the girl and began to talk to her in an endearing
+way. Shortly Sylvia sat up, bewildered. "What is it?" she asked. Then
+her eyes fell on the policeman. "Oh, where is my father?"
+
+"He's dead, pretty," said Deborah, fondling her. "Don't take on so."
+
+"Yes--I remember--the body on the floor--the serpent across the
+mouth--oh--oh!" and she fainted again.
+
+"There!" cried Deborah, with bitter triumph, "see what you've done."
+
+"Come--come," said Inspector Prince, though as gently as possible. "I
+am in charge of this case. Tell me what has happened."
+
+"If you'd use your blessed eyes you'd see murder has happened," said
+Miss Junk, savagely. "Let me attend to my pretty."
+
+Just at this moment a tall young man entered the room. It was the
+doctor. "The policemen said you were up here," he said in a pleasant
+voice. "I've examined the body, Inspector. The man is quite dead--he has
+been strangled--and in a cruel manner with that copper wire, which has
+cut into the throat, to say nothing of this," and the doctor held out
+the brooch.
+
+"That, drat it!" cried Deborah, vigorously, "it's the cause of it all, I
+do believe, if I died in saying so," and she began to rub Sylvia's hands
+vigorously.
+
+"Who is this young lady?" asked the doctor; "another patient?"
+
+"And well she may be," said Miss Junk. "Call yourself a doctor, and
+don't help me to bring her to."
+
+"Do what you can," said Prince, "and you," he added to Deborah, "come
+down with me. I wish to ask you a few questions."
+
+Deborah was no fool and saw that the Inspector was determined to make
+her do what he wanted. Besides, Sylvia was in the hands of the doctor,
+and Deborah felt that he could do more than she, to bring the poor girl
+to her senses. After a few parting injunctions she left the room and
+went downstairs with the Inspector. The police had made no further
+discovery.
+
+Prince questioned not only the Gwynne Street policeman, who had given
+his report, but all others who had been in the vicinity. But they could
+tell him nothing. No one suspicious had been seen leaving Gwynne Street
+north or south, so, finding he could learn nothing in this direction,
+Prince turned his attention to the servant. "Now, then, what do you
+know?" he asked. "Don't say anything likely to incriminate yourself."
+
+"Me!" shouted Deborah, bouncing up with a fiery face. "Don't you be
+taking away my character. Why, I know no more who have done it than a
+babe unborn, and that's stupid enough, I 'opes, Mr. Policeman. Ho!
+indeed, and we pays our taxes to be insulted by you, Mr. Policeman." She
+was very aggravating, and many a man would have lost his temper. But
+Inspector Prince was a quiet and self-controlled officer, and knew how
+to deal with this violent class of women. He simply waited till Deborah
+had exhausted herself, and then gently asked her a few questions.
+Finding he was reasonable, Deborah became reasonable on her part, and
+replied with great intelligence. In a few minutes the Inspector, by
+handling her deftly, learned all that had taken place on that terrible
+night, from the time Sylvia had started up in bed at the sound of that
+far-distant cry of a soul in agony. "And that, from what Miss Sylvia
+says," ended Deborah, "was just before the church clock struck the hour
+of twelve."
+
+"You came down a quarter of an hour later?"
+
+"I did, when Miss Sylvia woke me," said Deborah; "she was frightened out
+of her seven senses, and couldn't get up at once. Yes--it was about
+twenty minutes after the hour we come down to see--It," and the woman,
+strong nerved as she was, shuddered.
+
+"Humph," said the Inspector, "the assassin had time to escape."
+
+"Begging your pardon, sir, them, or him, or her, or it as murdered
+master was below in the cellar when we saw the corp--not that it was
+what you'd call a corp then."
+
+"Will you say precisely what you mean?"
+
+Deborah did so, and with such wealth of detail that even the hardened
+Inspector felt the creeps down his official back. There was something
+terribly merciless about this crime. The man had been bound like a
+sheep for the slaughter; his mouth had been sealed with the brooch so
+that he could not cry out, and then in the sight of his child and
+servant he had been slowly strangled by means of the copper wire which
+communicated with the cellar. One of the policemen brought up an auger
+which evidently had been used to bore the hole for the wire to pass
+through, for the fresh sawdust was still in its whorls. "Who does this
+belong to?" Prince asked Deborah.
+
+"It's Bart's," said Deborah, staring; "he was using it along with other
+tools to make some deal boxes for master, who was going away. I expect
+it was found in the cellar in the tool-box, for Bart allays brought it
+in tidy-like after he'd done his work in the yard, weather being fine,
+of course," ended Deborah, sniffing.
+
+"Where is this Bart?"
+
+"In bed like a decent man if he's to be my husband, which he is," said
+Miss Junk, tartly. "I told one of them idle bobbies to go and fetch him
+from Bloomsbury."
+
+"One has gone," said another policeman. "Bart Tawsey isn't he?"
+
+"Mr. Bartholemew Tawsey, if you please," said the servant, grandly. "I
+only hope he'll be here soon to protect me."
+
+"You're quite safe," said Prince, dryly, whereat there was a smile on
+the faces of his underlings, for Deborah in her disordered dress and
+with her swollen, flushed, excited face was not comely. "But what about
+this brooch you say is the cause of it all?"
+
+Deborah dropped with an air of fatigue. "If you kill me I can't talk of
+it now," she protested. "The brooch belonged to Mr. Paul Beecot."
+
+"And where is he?"
+
+"In the Charing Cross Hospital if you want to know, and as he's engaged
+to my pretty you needn't think he done it--so there."
+
+"I am accusing no one," said the Inspector, grimly, "but we must get to
+the bottom of this horrible crime."
+
+"Ah, well you may call it that," wailed Deborah, "with that serping on
+his poor mouth and him wriggling like an eel to get free. But 'ark,
+there's my pretty a-calling," and Miss Junk dashed headlong from the
+shop shouting comfort to Sylvia as she went.
+
+Prince looked at the dead man and at the opal serpent which he held in
+his hand. "This at one end of the matter, and that at the other. What is
+the connecting link between this brooch and that corpse?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE VERDICT OF THE JURY
+
+
+As may be guessed, the murder of Aaron Norman caused a tremendous
+sensation. One day the name was unknown, the next and it was in the
+mouths of the millions. The strange circumstances of the crime, the
+mystery which shrouded it, the abominable cruelty of the serpent brooch
+having been used to seal the man's lips while he was being slowly
+strangled, deepened the interest immensely. Here, at last was a murder
+worthy of Wilkie Collins's or Gaboriau's handling; such a crime as one
+expected to read of in a novel, but never could hope to hear of in real
+life. Fact had for once poached on the domains of fiction.
+
+But notwithstanding all the inquiries which were made, and all the
+vigilance of the police, and all the newspaper articles, and all the
+theories sent by people who knew nothing whatever of the matter, nothing
+tangible was discovered likely to lead to a discovery of the assassins
+or assassin. It was conjectured that two people at least had been
+concerned in the committal of the crime, as, weak physically though he
+was, the deceased would surely not have allowed himself to be bound by
+one person, however strong that person might be. In such a case there
+would certainly have been a scuffle, and as the daughter of the murdered
+man heard his cry for help--which was what Sylvia did hear--she would
+certainly have heard the noise of a rough-and-tumble struggle such as
+Norman would have made when fighting for his life. But that single
+muffled cry was all that had been heard, and then probably the brooch
+had been pinned on the mouth to seal it for ever. Later the man had been
+slowly strangled, and in the sight of his horrified daughter.
+
+Poor Sylvia received a severe shock after witnessing that awful sight,
+and was ill for some days. The faithful Deborah attended to her like a
+slave, and would allow no one, save the doctor, to enter the sick-room.
+Bart Tawsey, who had been summoned to Gwynne Street from his bed,
+remained in the empty shop and attended to any domestic duties which
+Miss Junk required to be performed. She made him cook viands for Sylvia
+and for herself, and, as he had been trained by her before, to act as an
+emergency cook, he did credit to her tuition. Also Bart ran messages,
+saw that the house was well locked and bolted at night, and slept on a
+hastily-improvised bed under the counter. Even Deborah's strong nerves
+were shaken by the horrors she had witnessed, and she insisted that Bart
+should remain to protect her and Sylvia. Bart was not over-strong, but
+he was wiry, and, moreover, had the courage of a cock sparrow, so while
+he was guarding the house Deborah had no fears, and could attend
+altogether to her sick mistress.
+
+One of the first people to call on Miss Norman was a dry, wizen monkey
+of a man, who announced himself as Jabez Pash, the solicitor of the
+deceased. He had, so he said, executed Aaron's legal business for years,
+and knew all his secrets. Yet, when questioned by the police, he could
+throw no light on the murder. But he knew of something strange connected
+with the matter, and this he related to the detective who was now in
+charge of the case.
+
+This officer was a chatty, agreeable, pleasant-faced man, with brown
+eyes, brown hair and brown skin. Also, to match his face, no doubt, he
+wore brown clothes, brown boots, a brown hat and a brown tie--in fact,
+in body, face and hands and dress he was all brown, and this prevalent
+color produced rather a strange effect. "He must ha' bin dyed," said
+Miss Junk when she set eyes on him. "But brown is better nor black, Miss
+Sylvia, though black you'll have to wear for your poor par, as is gone
+to a better land, let us hope, though there's no knowing."
+
+The brown man, who answered to the name of Hurd, or, as he genially
+described himself, "Billy" Hurd, saw Mr. Pash, the lawyer, after he had
+examined everyone he could lay hold of in the hopes of learning
+something likely to elucidate the mystery. "What do you know of this
+matter, sir?" asked the brown man, pleasantly.
+
+Pash screwed up his face in a manner worthy of his monkey looks. He
+would have been an absolute image of one with a few nuts in his cheek,
+and as he talked in a chattering sort of way, very fast and a trifle
+incoherent, the resemblance was complete. "I know nothing why my
+esteemed client should meet with such a death," he said, "but I may
+mention that on the evening of his death he called round to see me and
+deposited in my charge four bags of jewels. At least he said they were
+jewels, for the bags are sealed, and of course I never opened them."
+
+"Can I see those bags?" asked Hurd, amiably.
+
+The legal monkey hopped into the next room and beckoned Hurd to follow.
+Shortly the two were looking into the interior of a safe wherein reposed
+four bags of coarse white canvas sealed and tied with stout cords. "The
+odd thing is," said Mr. Pash, chewing his words, and looking so absurdly
+like a monkey that the detective felt inclined to call him "Jacko,"
+"that on the morning of the murder, and before I heard anything about
+it, a stranger came with a note from my esteemed client asking that the
+bags should be handed over."
+
+"What sort of a man?"
+
+"Well," said Pash, fiddling with his sharp chin, "what you might call a
+seafaring man. A sailor, maybe, would be the best term. He was stout and
+red-faced, but with drink rather than with weather, I should think, and
+he rolled on his bow-legs in a somewhat nautical way."
+
+"What name did he give?" asked Hurd, writing this description rapidly in
+his note-book.
+
+"None. I asked him who he was, and he told me--with many oaths I regret
+to say--to mind my own business. He insisted on having the bags to take
+back to Mr. Norman, but I doubted him--oh, yes," added the lawyer,
+shrewdly, "I doubted him. Mr. Norman always did his own business, and
+never, in my experience of him, employed a deputy. I replied to the
+unknown nautical man--a sailor--as you might say; he certainly smelt of
+rum, which, as we know, is a nautical drink--well, Mr. Hurd, I replied
+that I would take the bags round to Mr. Norman myself and at once. This
+office is in Chancery Lane, as you see, and not far from Gwynne Street,
+so I started with the bags."
+
+"And with the nautical gentleman?"
+
+"No. He said he would remain behind until I returned, so as to receive
+my apology when I had seen my esteemed client and become convinced of
+the nautical gentleman's rectitude. When I reached Gwynne Street I found
+that Mr. Norman was dead, and at once took the bags back to replace them
+in this safe, where you now behold them."
+
+"And this sailor?" asked Hurd, eyeing Mr. Pash keenly.
+
+The lawyer sucked in his cheeks and put his feet on the rungs of his
+chair. "Oh, my clerk tells me he left within five minutes of my
+departure, saying he could not wait."
+
+"Have you seen him since?"
+
+"I have not seen him since. But I am glad that I saved the property of
+my client."
+
+"Was Norman rich?"
+
+"Very well off indeed, but he did not make his money out of his
+book-selling business. In fact," said Pash, putting the tips of his
+fingers delicately together, "he was rather a good judge of jewels."
+
+"And a pawnbroker," interrupted Hurd, dryly. "I have heard all about
+that from Bart Tawsey, his shopman. Skip it and go on."
+
+"I can only go on so far as to say that Miss Norman will probably
+inherit a fortune of five thousand a year, beside the jewels contained
+in those bags. That is," said Mr. Pash, wisely, "if the jewels be not
+redeemed by those who pawned them."
+
+"Is there a will?" asked Hurd, rising to take his leave.
+
+Pash screwed up his eyes and inflated his cheeks, and wriggled so much
+that the detective expected an acrobatic performance, and was
+disappointed when it did not come off. "I really can't be sure on
+that point," he said softly. "I have not yet examined the papers
+contained in the safe of my deceased and esteemed client. He would
+never allow me to make his will. Leases--yes--he has some
+house-property--mortgages--yes--investments--yes--he entrusted me with
+all his business save the important one of making a will. But a great
+many other people act in the same strange way, though you might not
+think so, Mr. Hurd. They would never make a lease, or let a house, or
+buy property, without consulting their legal adviser, yet in the case of
+wills (most important documents) many prefer to draw them up themselves.
+Consequently, there is much litigation over wrongly-drawn documents of
+that nature."
+
+"All the better for you lawyers. Well, I'm off to look for your nautical
+gentleman."
+
+"Do you think he is guilty?"
+
+"I can't say," said Hurd, smiling, "and I never speak unless I am quite
+sure of the truth."
+
+"It will be hard to come at, in this case," said the lawyer.
+
+Billy the detective smiled pleasantly and shrugged his brown shoulders.
+"So hard that it may never be discovered," he said. "You know many
+mysteries are never solved. I suspect this Gwynne Street crime will be
+one of them."
+
+Hurd had learned a great deal about the opal brooch from Sylvia and
+Deborah, and what they told him resulted in his visiting the Charing
+Cross Hospital to see Paul Beecot. The young man was much worried. His
+arm was getting better, and the doctors assured him he would be able to
+leave the hospital in a few days. But he had received a letter from his
+mother, whom he had informed of his accident. She bewailed his danger,
+and wrote with many tears--as Paul saw from the blotted state of the
+letter--that her domestic tyrant would not allow her to come to London
+to see her wounded darling. This in itself was annoying enough, but Paul
+was still more irritated and excited by the report of Aaron's terrible
+death, which he saw in a newspaper. So much had this moved him that he
+was thrown into a high state of fever, and the doctor refused to allow
+him to read the papers. Luckily, Paul, for his own sake, had somewhat
+calmed down when Hurd arrived, so the detective was permitted to see
+him. He sat by the bedside and told the patient who he was. Beecot
+looked at him sharply, and then recognized him.
+
+"You are the workman," he said astonished.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Beecot, I am. I hear that you have not taken my warning
+regarding your friend, Mr. Grexon Hay."
+
+"Ah! Then you knew his name all the time!"
+
+"Of course I did. I merely spoke to you to set you on your guard against
+him. He'll do you no good."
+
+"But he was at school with me," said Beecot, angrily.
+
+"That doesn't make him any the better companion," replied Hurd; "see
+here, Mr. Beecot, we can talk of this matter another time. At present,
+as I am allowed to converse with you only for a short time, I wish to
+ask you about the opal serpent."
+
+Paul sat up, although Hurd tried to keep him down. "What do you know of
+that?--why do you come to me?"
+
+"I know very little and want to know more. As I told you, my name is
+Billy Hurd, and, as I did _not_ tell you, I am the detective whom the
+Treasury has placed in charge of this case."
+
+"Norman's murder?"
+
+"Yes! Have you read the papers?"
+
+"A few, but not enough. The doctors took them from me and--"
+
+"Gently, Mr. Beecot. Let us talk as little as possible. Where did you
+get that brooch?"
+
+"Why do you want to know? You don't suspect me, I hope?"
+
+Hurd laughed. "No. You have been in this ward all the time. But as the
+brooch was used cruelly to seal the dead man's mouth, it seems to me,
+and to Inspector Prince, that the whole secret of the murder lies in
+tracing it to its original possessor. Now tell me all about it," said
+Billy, and spread out his note-book.
+
+"I will if you'll tell me about Miss Norman. I'm engaged to marry her
+and I hear she is ill."
+
+"Oh, she is much better," said Hurd, pausing pencil in hand, "don't
+distress yourself. That young lady is all right; and when you marry her
+you'll marry an heiress, as I learn from the lawyer who does the
+business of the deceased."
+
+"I don't care about her being the heiress. Will you take a message to
+her from me?"
+
+"Certainly. What is it?" Hurd spoke quite sympathetically, for even
+though he was a detective he was a human being with a kindly heart.
+
+"Tell her how sorry I am, and that I'll come and see her as soon as I
+can leave this confounded hospital. Thanks for your kindness, Mr. Hurd.
+Now, what do you wish to know? Oh, yes--about the opal serpent, which,
+as you say, and as I think, seems to be at the bottom of all the
+trouble. Listen," and Paul detailed all he knew, taking the story up to
+the time of his accident.
+
+Hurd listened attentively. "Oh," said he, with a world of meaning, "so
+Mr. Grexon Hay was with you? Hum! Do you suppose he pushed you into the
+road on purpose?"
+
+"No," said Paul, staring, "I'm sure he didn't. What had he to gain by
+acting in such a way?"
+
+"Money, you may be sure," said Hurd. "That gentleman never does anything
+without the hope of a substantial reward. Hush! We'll talk of this when
+you're better, Mr. Beecot. You say the brooch was lost."
+
+"Yes. It must have slipped out of my pocket when I fell under the wheels
+of that machine. I believe there were a number of loafers and ragged
+creatures about, so it is just possible I may hear it has been picked
+up. I've sent an advertisement to the papers."
+
+Hurd shook his head. "You won't hear," he said. "How can you expect to
+when you know the brooch was used to seal the dead man's lips?"
+
+"I forgot that," said Paul, faintly. "My memory--"
+
+"Is not so good as it was." Hurd rose. "I'll go, as I see you are
+exhausted. Good-bye."
+
+"Wait! You'll keep me advised of how the case goes?"
+
+"Certainly, if the doctors will allow me to. Good-bye," and Hurd went
+away very well satisfied with the information he had obtained.
+
+The clue, as he thought it was, led him to Wargrove, where he obtained
+useful information from Mr. Beecot, who gave it with a very bad grace,
+and offered remarks about his son's being mixed up in the case, which
+made Hurd, who had taken a fancy to the young fellow, protest. From
+Wargrove, Hurd went to Stowley, in Buckinghamshire, and interviewed the
+pawnbroker whose assistant had wrongfully sold the brooch to Beecot many
+years before. There he learned a fact which sent him back to Mr. Jabez
+Pash in London.
+
+"I says, sir," said Hurd, when again in the lawyer's private room, "that
+nautical gentleman of yours pawned that opal serpent twenty years ago
+more or less."
+
+"Never," said the monkey, screwing up his face and chewing.
+
+"Yes, indeed. The pawnbroker is an old man, but he remembers the
+customer quite well, and his description, allowing for the time that has
+elapsed, answers to the man who tried to get the jewels from you."
+
+Mr. Pash chewed meditatively, and then inflated his cheeks. "Pooh," he
+said, "twenty years is a long time. A man then, and a man now, would be
+quite different."
+
+"Some people never change," said Hurd, quietly. "You have not changed
+much, I suspect."
+
+"No," cackled the lawyer, rather amused. "I grew old young, and have
+never altered my looks."
+
+"Well, this nautical gentleman may be the same. He pawned the article
+under the name of David Green--a feigned one, I suspect."
+
+"Then you think he is guilty?"
+
+"I have to prove that the brooch came into his possession again before I
+can do that," said Hurd, grimly. "And, as the brooch was lost in the
+street by Mr. Beecot, I don't see what I can do. However, it is strange
+that a man connected with the pawning of the brooch so many years ago
+should suddenly start up again when the brooch is used in connection
+with a terrible crime."
+
+"It is strange. I congratulate you on having this case, Mr. Hurd. It is
+an interesting one to look into."
+
+"And a mighty difficult one," said Hurd, rather depressed. "I really
+don't see my way. I have got together all the evidence I can, but I fear
+the verdict at the inquest will be wilful murder against some person or
+persons unknown."
+
+Hurd, who was not blind to his own limitations like some detectives,
+proved to be a true prophet. The inquest was attended by a crowd of
+people, who might as well have stayed away for all they learned
+concerning the identity of the assassin. It was proved by the evidence
+of Sylvia and Deborah how the murder had taken place, but it was
+impossible to show who had strangled the man. It was presumed that the
+assassin or assassins had escaped when Deborah went upstairs to shout
+murder out of the first-floor window. By that time the policeman on the
+Gwynne Street beat was not in sight, and it would have been easy for
+those concerned in the crime--if more than one--to escape by the cellar
+door, through the passage and up the street to mingle with the people in
+the Strand, which, even at that late hour, would not be deserted. Or
+else the assassin or assassins might have got into Drury Lane and have
+proceeded towards Oxford Street. But in whatever direction they went,
+none of the numerous policemen around the neighborhood on that fatal
+night had "spotted" any suspicious persons. It was generally assumed,
+from the peculiar circumstances of the crime, that more than one person
+was inculpated, and these had come out of the night, had committed the
+cruel deed, and then had vanished into the night, leaving no trace
+behind. The appearance of the fellow whom Mr. Pash called the nautical
+gentleman certainly was strange, and led many people to believe that
+robbery was the motive for the commission of the crime. "This man, who
+was powerful and could easily have overpowered a little creature like
+Norman, came to rob," said these wiseacres. "Finding that the jewels
+were gone, and probably from a memorandum finding that they were in the
+possession of the lawyer, he attempted the next morning to get them--"
+and so on. But against this was placed by other people the cruel
+circumstances of the crime. No mere robbery would justify the brooch
+being used to pin the dead man's lips together. Then, again, the man
+being strangled before his daughter's eyes was a refinement of cruelty
+which removed the case from a mere desire on the part of the murdered to
+get money. Finally, one man, as the police thought, could not have
+carried out the abominable details alone.
+
+So after questions had been asked and evidence obtained, and details
+shifted, and theories raised, and pros and cons discussed, the jury was
+obliged to bring in the verdict predicted by Mr. Hurd. "Wilful murder
+against some person or persons unknown," said the jury, and everyone
+agreed that this was the only conclusion that could be arrived at.
+
+Of course the papers took up the matter and asked what the police were
+doing to permit so brutal a murder to take place in a crowded
+neighborhood and in the metropolis of the world. "What was civilisation
+coming to and--" etc., etc. All the same the public was satisfied that
+the police and jury had done their duty. So the inquest was held, the
+verdict was given, and then the remains of Aaron Norman were committed
+to the grave; and from the journals everyone knew that the daughter left
+behind was a great heiress. "A million of money," said the Press, and
+lied as usual.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+CASTLES IN THE AIR
+
+
+So Aaron Norman, the second-hand bookseller of Gwynne Street, was dead
+and buried, and, it may be said, forgotten. Sylvia and those connected
+with her remembered the old man and his unhappy end, but the public
+managed to forget all about the matter in a wonderfully short space of
+time. Other events took place, which interested the readers of the
+newspapers more, and few recalled the strange Gwynne Street crime. Many
+people, when they did think, said that the assassins would never be
+discovered, but in this they were wrong. If money could hunt down the
+person or persons who had so cruelly murdered Aaron Norman, his daughter
+and heiress was determined that money could not be better spent. And
+Billy Hurd, knowing all about the case and taking a profound interest in
+it by reason of the mystery which environed it, was selected to follow
+up what clues there were.
+
+But while London was still seething with the tragedy and strangeness of
+the crime, Mr. Jabez Pash came to the heterogeneously-furnished
+sitting-room in Gwynne Street to read the will. For there was a will
+after all. Deborah, and Bart, who had witnessed it at the request of
+their master, told Mr. Pash of its existence, and he found it in one of
+the three safes in the cellar. It proved to be a short, curt document,
+such as no man in his senses would think of making when disposing of
+five thousand a year. Aaron was a clever business man, and Pash was
+professionally disgusted that he had left behind him such a loose
+testament.
+
+"Why didn't he come to me and have it properly drawn up?" he asked as he
+stood in the cellar before the open safe with the scrap of paper in his
+hand.
+
+Deborah, standing near, with her hands on her haunches, laughed
+heartily. "I think master believed he's spent enough money with you,
+sir. Lor' bless you, Mr. Pash, so long as the will's tight and fair what
+do it matter? Don't tell me as there's anything wrong and that my pretty
+won't come into her forting?"
+
+"Oh, the will's right enough," said Pash, screwing up his cheeks; "let
+us go up to the sitting-room. Is Miss Sylvia there?"
+
+"That she are, sir, and a-getting back her pretty color with Mr. Paul."
+
+Pash looked suspiciously at the handmaiden. "Who is he?"
+
+"Nobody to be spoke of in that lump of dirt way," retorted Deborah.
+"He's a gentleman who's going to marry my pretty."
+
+"Oh, the one who had the accident! I met him, but forgot his name."
+
+Miss Junk nodded vigorously. "And a mercy it was that he wasn't smashed
+to splinters, with spiled looks and half his limbses orf," she said.
+"Why, bless you, Mr. Pash, could I let my sunbeam marry a man as wasn't
+all there, 'eart of gold though he may have? But the blessing of
+Providence kept him together," shouted Deborah in a burst of gratitude,
+"and there he sits upstairs with arms to put about my lily-queen for the
+drying of her dear eyes."
+
+Mr. Pash was not at all pleased at this news and rubbed his nose hard.
+"If a proper will had only been made," he said aggressively, "a proper
+guardian might have been appointed, and this young lady would not have
+been permitted to throw herself away."
+
+"Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash," said Deborah, in an offended tone,
+"but this marriage is of my making, to say nothing of Heaven, which
+brought him and my pretty together. Mr. Beecot ain't got money, but his
+looks is takin', and his 'eart is all that an angel can want. My
+pretty's chice," added the maiden, shaking an admonitory finger, "and my
+pretty's happiness, so don't you go a-spilin' of it."
+
+"I have nothing to say, save to regret that a young lady in possession
+of five thousand a year should make a hasty contract like this," said
+Mr. Pash, dryly, and hopping up the cellar stairs.
+
+"It wasn't hasty," cried Deborah, following and talking all the time;
+"six months have them dears billed and cooed lovely, and if my queen
+wants to buy a husband, why not? Just you go up and read the will proper
+and without castin' cold water on my beauty's warm 'eart, or trouble
+will come of your talkin'. I'm mild," said Deborah, chasing the little
+lawyer up the stairs leading to the first floor, "mild as flat beer if
+not roused: but if you make me red, my 'and flies like a windmill,
+and--"
+
+Mr. Jabez Pash heard no more. He stopped his legal ears and fled into
+the sitting-room, where he found the lovers seated on a sofa near the
+window. Sylvia was in Paul's embrace, and her head was on his shoulder.
+Beecot had his arm in a sling, and looked pale, but his eyes were as
+bright as ever, and his face shone with happiness. Sylvia also looked
+happy. To know that she was rich, that Paul was to be her husband,
+filled the cup of her desires to the brim. Moreover, she was beginning
+to recover from the shock of her father's death, and was feverishly
+anxious to escape from Gwynne Street, and from the house where the
+tragedy had taken place.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Pash, drawing a long breath and sucking in his cheeks,
+"you lose no time, young gentleman."
+
+Paul laughed, but did not change his position. Sylvia indeed blushed and
+raised her head, but Paul still held her with his uninjured arm, defying
+Mr. Pash and all the world. "I am gathering rosebuds while I may, Mr.
+Pash," said he, misquoting Herrick's charming line.
+
+"You have plucked a very pretty one," grinned the monkey; "but may I
+request the rosebud's attention?"
+
+Sylvia extricated herself from her lover's arm with a heightened color,
+and nodded gravely. Seeing it was business, she had to descend from
+heaven to earth, but she secretly hoped that this dull little lawyer,
+who was a bachelor and had never loved in his dry little life, would
+soon go away and leave her alone with Prince Charming. Deborah guessed
+these thoughts with the instinct of fidelity, and swooped down on her
+young mistress.
+
+"It's the will, poppet," she whispered loudly, "but if it do make your
+dear head ache Mr. Beecot will listen."
+
+"I wish Mr. Beecot to listen in any case," said Pash, dryly, "if he is
+to marry my young and esteemed client."
+
+"We are engaged with the consent of my poor father," said Sylvia, taking
+Paul's hand. "I shall marry no one but Paul."
+
+"And Paul will marry an angel," said that young man, with a tender
+squeeze, "although he can't keep her in bread-and-butter."
+
+"Oh, I think there will be plenty of bread-and-butter," said the lawyer.
+"Miss Norman, we have found the will if," added Mr. Pash, disdainfully,
+"this," he held out the document with a look of contempt, "can be called
+a will."
+
+"It's all right, isn't it?" asked Sylvia, anxiously.
+
+"I mean the form and the writing and the paper, young lady. It is a good
+will in law, and duly signed and witnessed."
+
+"Me and Bart having written our names, lovey," put in Deborah.
+
+Pash frowned her into silence. "The will," he said, looking at the
+writing, "consists of a few lines. It leaves all the property of the
+testator to 'my daughter.'"
+
+"Your daughter!" screamed Deborah. "Why, you ain't married."
+
+"I am reading from the will," snapped Pash, coloring, and read again: "I
+leave all the real and personal property of which I may die possessed of
+to my daughter."
+
+"Sylvia Norman!" cried Deborah, hugging her darling.
+
+"There you are wrong," corrected Pash, folding up the so-called will,
+"the name of Sylvia isn't mentioned."
+
+"Does that make any difference?" asked Paul, quietly.
+
+"No. Miss Norman is an only daughter, I believe."
+
+"And an only child," said Deborah, "so that's all right. My pretty, you
+will have them jewels and five thousand a year."
+
+"Oh, Paul, what a lot of money!" cried Sylvia, appalled. "Whatever will
+we do with it all?"
+
+"Why, marry and be happy, of course," said Paul, rejoicing not so much
+on account of the money, although that was acceptable, but because this
+delightful girl was all his very--very own.
+
+"The question is," said Mr. Pash, who had been reflecting, and now
+reproduced the will from his pocket, "as to the name?"
+
+"What name?" asked Sylvia, and Deborah echoed the question.
+
+"Your name." Pash addressed the girl direct. "Your father's real name
+was Krill--Lemuel Krill."
+
+Sylvia looked amazed, Deborah uttered her usual ejaculation, "Lor'!" but
+Paul's expression did not change. He considered that this was all of a
+piece with the murder and the mystery of the opal brooch. Undoubtedly
+Mr. Lemuel Krill, _alias_ Aaron Norman, must have had good reason to
+change his name and to exhibit terror at the sight of the brooch. And
+the reason he dreaded, whatever it might be, had been the cause of his
+mysterious and tragic death. But Paul said nothing of these thoughts and
+there was silence for a few minutes.
+
+"Lor,'" said Deborah again, "and I never knew. Do he put that name to
+that, mister?" she asked, pointing to the will.
+
+"Yes! It is signed Lemuel Krill," said Pash. "I wonder you didn't notice
+it at the moment."
+
+"Why, bless you, Mr. Pash, there weren't no moment," said Deborah, her
+hands on her hips as usual. "Master made that there will only a short
+time before he was killed."
+
+Pash nodded. "I note the date," said he, "all in order--quite."
+
+"Master," went on Deborah, looking at Paul, "never got over that there
+fainting fit you gave him with the serping brooch. And he writes out
+that will, and tells Bart and me to put our names to it. But he covered
+up his own name with a bit of red blotting-paper. I never thought but
+that he hadn't put Aaron Norman, which was his name."
+
+"It was not his name," said Pash. "His real name I have told you, and
+for years I have known the truth."
+
+"Do you know why he changed his name?" asked Beecot, quickly.
+
+"No, sir, I don't. And if I did, I don't know if it would be legal
+etiquette to reveal the reason to a stranger."
+
+"He's not a stranger," cried Sylvia, annoyed.
+
+"Well, then, to a young gentleman whom I have only seen twice. Why do
+you ask, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I was wondering if the change of name had anything to do with the
+murder," said Paul, hesitating.
+
+"How could it," said Pash, testily, "when the man never expected to be
+murdered?"
+
+"Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash, but you're all out," said Deborah.
+"Master did expect to have his throat cut, or his 'ead knocked orf, or
+his inside removed--"
+
+"Deborah," cried Paul, hastily, "you are making Sylvia nervous."
+
+"Don't you worrit, pretty," said the maiden, "it's only silly old
+Debby's way. But master, your par as was, my pretty, went to church and
+prayed awful against folk as he never named, to say nothin' of lookin'
+over the left shoulder blade and sleepin' in the cellar bolted and
+barred, and always with his eye on the ground sad like. Old Baileys and
+police-courts was in his mind, say what you like."
+
+"I say nothing," rejoined Pash, putting on his hat and hopping to the
+door. "Mr. Lemuel Krill did not honor me with his confidence so far. He
+came here, over twenty years ago and began business. I was then younger
+than I am, and he gave me his business because my charges were moderate.
+I know all about him as Aaron Norman," added Pash, with emphasis, "but
+as Lemuel Krill I, knowing nothing but the name, can say nothing. Nor do
+I want to. Young people," ended the lawyer, impressively, "let sleeping
+dogs lie."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Sylvia, looking startled.
+
+"Nothing--he means nothing," interposed Paul hastily, for the girl had
+undergone quite enough torments. "What about the change of name?"
+
+"Ah yes!" said the lawyer, inquiringly. "Will you call yourself Krill or
+Norman, Miss Sylvia?"
+
+"Seein' her name's to be changed to Beecot in a jiffy," cried Deborah,
+"it don't matter, and it sha'n't matter. You leave Krill and its old
+Baileys, if old Baileys there are in it, alone, my lovey, and be Miss
+Norman till the passon and the clark, and the bells and the ringers, and
+the lawr and the prophets turn you into the loveliest bride as ever
+was," and Deborah nodded vigorously.
+
+"I wish father had mentioned my name in his will," said Sylvia, in a low
+voice, "and then I should know what to call myself."
+
+Paul addressed the lawyer. "I know little about the legal aspect of this
+will"--
+
+"This amateur will," said Pash, slightingly.
+
+"But I should like to know if there will be any difficulty in proving
+it?"
+
+"I don't think so. I have not gone through all the safes below, and may
+come across the marriage certificate of Miss Krill's--I beg pardon, Miss
+Norman's--mother and father. Then there's the birth certificate. We must
+prove that Miss Sylvia is the daughter of my late esteemed client."
+
+"What's that?" shouted Deborah. "Why, I knowed her mother as died. She's
+the daughter right enough, and--"
+
+"There's no need to shout," chattered Pash, angrily. "I know that as
+well as you do; I must act, however, as reason dictates. I'll prove the
+will and see that all is right." Then, dreading Deborah's tongue he
+hastily added "Good-day," and left the room. But he was not to escape so
+easily. Deborah plunged after him and made scathing remarks about legal
+manners all the way down to the door.
+
+Paul and Sylvia left alone looked and smiled and fell into one another's
+arms. The will had been read and the money left to the girl, thereby the
+future was all right, so they thought that Pash's visit demanded no
+further attention. "He'll do all that is to be done," said Paul. "I
+don't see the use of keeping a dog and having to bark yourself."
+
+"And I'm really a rich woman, Paul," said Sylvia, gladly.
+
+"Really and truly, as I am a pauper. I think perhaps," said Beecot,
+sadly, "that you might make a better match than--"
+
+Sylvia put her pretty hand over his moustache. "I won't hear it, Paul,"
+she cried vehemently, with a stamp of her foot. "How dare you? As if you
+weren't all I have to love in the world now poor father--is--is de-a-d,"
+and she began to weep. "I did not love him as I ought to have done,
+Paul."
+
+"My own, he would not let you love him very much."
+
+"N-o-o," said Sylvia, drying her eyes on Paul's handkerchief, which he
+produced. "I don't know why. Sometimes he was nice, and sometimes he
+wasn't. I never could understand him, and you know, Paul, we didn't
+treat him nicely."
+
+"No," admitted Beecot, frankly, "but he forgave us."
+
+"Oh, yes, poor dear, he did! He was quite nice when he said we could
+marry and he would allow us money. You saw him?"
+
+"I did. He came to the hospital. Didn't he tell you when he returned,
+Sylvia?"
+
+"I never saw him," she wept. "He never came upstairs, but went out, and
+I went to bed. He left the door leading to the stairs open, too, on that
+night, a thing he never did before. And then the key of the shop. Bart
+used to hang it on a nail in the cellar and father would put it into his
+pocket after supper. Deborah couldn't find it in his clothes, and when
+she went afterwards to the cellar it was on the nail. On that night,
+Paul, father did everything different to what he usually did."
+
+"He seems to have had some mental trouble," said Paul, gently, "and I
+believe it was connected with that brooch. When he spoke to me at the
+hospital he said he would let you marry me, and would allow us an
+income, if I gave him the serpent brooch to take to America."
+
+"But why did he want the brooch?" asked Sylvia, puzzled.
+
+"Ah!" said Beecot, with great significance, "if we could find out his
+reason we would learn who killed him and why he was killed."
+
+Sylvia wept afresh on this reference to the tragedy which was yet fresh
+in her memory: but as weeping would not bring back the dead, and Paul
+was much distressed at the sight of her tears, she dried her eyes for
+the hundredth time within the last few days and sat again on the sofa by
+her lover. There they built castles in the air.
+
+"I tell you what, Sylvia," said Paul, reflectively; "after this will
+business is settled and a few weeks have elapsed, we can marry."
+
+"Oh, Paul, not for a year! Think of poor father's memory."
+
+"I do think of it, my darling, and I believe I am saying what your
+father himself would have said. The circumstances of the case are
+strange, as you are left with a lot of money and without a protector.
+You know I love you for yourself, and would take you without a penny,
+but unless we marry soon, and you give me a husband's right, you will be
+pestered by people wanting to marry you." Paul thought of Grexon Hay
+when he made this last remark.
+
+"But I wouldn't listen to them," cried Sylvia, with a flush, "and Debby
+would soon send them away. I love you dearest, dear."
+
+"Then marry me next month," said Paul, promptly. "You can't stop here in
+this dull house, and it will be awkward for you to go about with
+Deborah, faithful though she is. No, darling, let us marry, and then we
+shall go abroad for a year or two until all this sad business is
+forgotten. Then I hope by that time to become reconciled to my father,
+and we can visit Wargrove."
+
+Sylvia reflected. She saw that Paul was right, as her position was
+really very difficult. She knew of no lady who would chaperon her, and
+she had no relative to act as such. Certainly Deborah could be a
+chaperon, but she was not a lady, and Pash could be a guardian, but he
+was not a relative. Paul as her husband would be able to protect her,
+and to look after the property which Sylvia did not think she could do
+herself. These thoughts made her consent to an early marriage. "And I
+really don't think father would have minded."
+
+"I am quite sure we are acting as he would wish," said Beecot,
+decisively. "I am so thankful, Sylvia sweetest, that I met you and loved
+you before you became an heiress. No one can say that I marry you for
+anything save your own sweet self. And I am doubly glad that I am to
+marry you and save you from all the disagreeable things which might have
+occurred had you not been engaged to me."
+
+"I know, Paul. I am so young and inexperienced."
+
+"You are an angel," said he, embracing her. "But there's one thing we
+must do"--and his voice became graver--"we must see Pash and offer a
+reward for the discovery of the person who killed your father."
+
+"But Mr. Pash said let sleeping dogs lie," objected Sylvia.
+
+"I know he did, but out of natural affection, little as your poor father
+loved you, we must stir up this particular dog. I suggest that we offer
+a reward of five hundred pounds."
+
+"To whom?" asked Sylvia, thoroughly agreeing.
+
+"To anyone who can find the murderer. I think myself, that Hurd will be
+the man to gain the money. Apart from any reward he has to act on behalf
+of the Treasury, and besides, he is keen to discover the mystery. You
+leave the matter to me, Sylvia. We will offer a reward for the discovery
+of the murderer of--"
+
+"Aaron Norman," said Sylvia, quickly.
+
+"No," replied her lover, gravely, "of Lemuel Krill."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A BOLT FROM THE BLUE
+
+
+Paul's reason for advertising the name of Lemuel Krill was a very
+natural one. He believed that in the past of the dead man was to be
+found his reason for changing his name and living in Gwynne Street. And
+in that past before he became a second-hand bookseller and a secret
+pawnbroker might be found the motive for the crime. Therefore, if a
+reward was offered for the discovery of the murderer of Lemuel Krill,
+_alias_ Aaron Norman, something might come to light relative to the
+man's early life. Once that was known, the clue might be obtained. Then
+the truth would surely be discovered. He explained this to Hurd.
+
+"I think you're right, Mr. Beecot," said the detective, in his genial
+way, and looking as brown as a coffee bean. "I have made inquiries from
+the two servants, and from the neighbors, and from what customers I
+could find. Aaron Norman certainly lived a very quiet and respectable
+life here. But Lemuel Krill may have lived a very different one, and the
+mere fact that he changed his name shows that he had something to
+conceal. When we learn that something we may arrive at the motive for
+the murder, and, given that, the assassin may be caught."
+
+"The assassin!" echoed Paul. "Then you think there was only one."
+
+Hurd shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows?" he said. "I speak generally.
+From the strange circumstances of the crime I am inclined to think that
+there is more than one person concerned in this matter. However, the
+best thing to be done is to have hand-bills printed offering the five
+hundred pounds reward. People will do a lot to earn so much money, and
+someone may come forward with details about Mr. Krill which will solve
+the mystery of Norman's death."
+
+"I hope you will gain the reward yourself, Hurd."
+
+The detective nodded. "I hope so too. I have lately married the sweetest
+little wife in the world, and I want to keep her in the way she has been
+accustomed to be kept. She married beneath her, as I'm only a
+thief-catcher, and no very famous one either."
+
+"But if you solve this mystery it will do you a lot of good."
+
+"That it will," agreed Billy, heartily, "and it will mean advancement
+and extra screw: besides the reward if I can get it. You may be very
+sure, Mr. Beecot, that I'll do my best. Oh, by the way," he added, "have
+you heard that Mr. Pash is being asked for many of those jewels?"
+
+"No. Who are asking for them? Not that nautical man?"
+
+Hurd shook his head. "He's not such a fool," said he. "No! But the
+people who pledged the jewels are getting them back--redeeming them, in
+fact. Pash is doing all the business thoroughly well, and will keep what
+jewels remain for the time allowed by law, so that all those who wish to
+redeem them can do so. If not, they can be sold, and that will mean more
+money to Miss Norman--by the way, I presume she intends to remain Miss
+Norman."
+
+"Until I make her Mrs. Beecot," said Paul, smiling.
+
+"Well," replied Hurd, very heartily, "I trust you will both be happy. I
+think Miss Norman will get a good husband in you, and you will gain the
+sweetest wife in the world bar one."
+
+"Everyone thinks his own crow the whitest," laughed Beecot. "But now
+that business is ended and you know what you are to do, will you tell me
+plainly why you warned me against Grexon Hay?"
+
+"Hum," said the detective, looking at Paul with keen eyes, "what do you
+know about him, sir?"
+
+Beecot detailed his early friendship with Hay at Torrington, and then
+related the meeting in Oxford Street. "And so far as I have seen," added
+Paul, justly, "there's nothing about the man to make me think he is a
+bad lot."
+
+"It is natural you should think well of him as you know no wrong, Mr.
+Beecot. All the same, Grexon Hay is a man on the market."
+
+"You made use of that expression before. What does it mean?"
+
+"Ask Mr. Hay. He can explain best."
+
+"I did ask him, and he said it meant a man who was on the marriage
+market."
+
+Hurd laughed. "Very ingenious and untrue."
+
+"Untrue!"
+
+"Certainly. Mr. Hay knows better than that. If that were all he wouldn't
+think a working man would warn anyone against him."
+
+"He guessed you were not a working man," said Paul, "and intimated that
+he had a _liaison_ with a married woman, and that the husband had set
+you to watch."
+
+"Wrong again. My interest in Mr. Hay doesn't spring from divorce
+proceedings. He paints himself blacker than he is in that respect, Mr.
+Beecot. My gentleman is too selfish to love, and too cautious to commit
+himself to a divorce case where there would be a chance of damages. No!
+He's simply a man on the market, and what that is no one knows better
+than he does."
+
+"Well, I am ignorant."
+
+"You shall be enlightened, sir, and I hope what I tell you will lead you
+to drop this gentleman's acquaintance, especially now that you will be a
+rich man through your promised wife."
+
+"Miss Norman's money is her own," said Paul, with a quick flush. "I
+don't propose to live on what she inherits."
+
+"Of course not, because you are an honorable man. But I'll lay anything
+you like that Mr. Hay won't have your scruples, and as soon as he finds
+your wife is rich he'll try and get money from her through you."
+
+"He'll fail then," rejoined Beecot, calmly. "I am not up to your London
+ways, perhaps, but I am not quite such a fool. Perhaps you will
+enlighten me as you say."
+
+Hurd nodded and caught his smooth chin with his finger and thumb. "A man
+on the market," he explained slowly, "is a social highwayman."
+
+"I am still in the dark, Hurd."
+
+"Well, to be more particular, Hay is one of those well-dressed
+blackguards who live on mugs. He has no money--"
+
+"I beg your pardon, he told me himself that his uncle had left him a
+thousand a year."
+
+"Pooh, he might as well have doubled the sum and increased the value of
+the lie. He hasn't a penny. What he did have, he got through pretty
+quickly in order to buy his experience. Now that he is hard up he
+practises on others what was practised on himself. Hay is well-bred,
+good-looking, well-dressed and plausible. He has well-furnished rooms
+and keeps a valet. He goes into rather shady society, as decent people,
+having found him out, won't have anything to do with him. But he is a
+card-sharper and a fraudulent company-promoter. He'll borrow money from
+any juggins who is ass enough to lend it to him. He haunts Piccadilly,
+Bond Street and the Burlington Arcade, and is always smart, and bland,
+and fascinating. If he sees a likely victim he makes his acquaintance in
+a hundred ways, and then proceeds to fleece him. In a word, Mr. Beecot,
+you may put it that Mr. Hay is Captain Hawk, and those he swindles are
+pigeons."
+
+Paul was quite startled by this revelation, and it was painful to hear
+it of an old school friend. "He does not look like a man of that sort,"
+he remonstrated.
+
+"It's not his business to look like a man of that sort," rejoined the
+detective. "He masks his batteries. All the same he is one of the most
+dangerous men on the market at the present in town. A young peer whom he
+plucked two years ago lost everything to him, and got into trouble over
+some woman. It was a nasty case and Hay was mixed up in it. The
+relatives of the victim--I needn't give his title--asked me to put
+things right. I got the young nobleman away, and he is now travelling to
+acquire the sense he so sadly needed. I have given Mr. Hay a warning
+once or twice, and he knows that he is being watched by us. When he
+slips, as he is bound to do, sooner or later, then he'll have to deal
+with me. Oh I know how he hunts for clients in fashionable hotels, smart
+restaurants, theatres and such-like places. He is clever, and although
+he has fleeced several lambs since he plucked the pigeon I saved, he
+has, as yet, been too clever to be caught. When I saw you with him, Mr.
+Beecot, I thought it just as well to put you on your guard."
+
+"I fear he'll get little out of me," said Paul. "I am too poor."
+
+"You are rich now through your promised wife, and Hay will find it out."
+
+"I repeat that Miss Norman's money has nothing to do with me. And I may
+mention that as soon as the case is in your hands, Mr. Hurd--"
+
+"Which it is now," interpolated the detective.
+
+"I intend to marry Miss Norman and then we will travel for a time."
+
+"That's very wise of you. Give Hay a wide berth. Of course, if you meet
+him, you needn't tell him what I have told you. But when he tries to
+come Captain Hawk over you, be on your guard."
+
+"I shall, and thanks for the warning."
+
+So the two parted. Hurd went away to have the bills printed, and Paul
+returned to Gwynne Street to arrange with Sylvia about their early
+marriage. Deborah was in the seventh heaven of delight that her young
+mistress would soon be in a safe haven and enjoy the protection of an
+honorable man. Knowing that she would soon be relieved from care, she
+told Bart Tawsey that they would be married at the same time as the
+young couple, and that the laundry would be started as soon as Mr. and
+Mrs. Beecot left for the Continent. Bart, of course, agreed--he always
+did agree with Deborah--and so everything was nicely arranged.
+
+Meanwhile Pash worked to prove the will, pay the death-duties, and to
+place Sylvia in full possession of her property. He found in one of the
+safes the certificate of the girl's birth, and also the marriage
+certificate of Aaron Norman in the name of Lemuel Krill. The man
+evidently had his doubts of the marriage being a legal one if contracted
+under his _alias_. He had married Lillian Garner, who was described as a
+spinster. But who she was and where she came from, and what her position
+in life might be could not be discovered. Krill was married in a quiet
+city church, and Pash, having searched, found everything in order. Mrs.
+Krill--or Norman as she was known--lived only a year or two after her
+marriage, and then died, leaving Sylvia to the care of her husband.
+There were several nurses in succession, until Deborah grew old enough
+to attend alone on her young mistress. Then Norman dismissed the nurse,
+and Deborah had been Sylvia's slave and Aaron's servant until the tragic
+hour of his death. So, everything being in order, there was no
+difficulty in placing Sylvia in possession of her property.
+
+Pash was engaged in this congenial work for several weeks, and during
+that time all went smoothly. Paul paid daily visits to the Gwynne Street
+house, which was to be vacated as soon as he made Sylvia his wife.
+Deborah searched for her laundry and obtained the premises she wanted at
+a moderate rental. Sylvia basked in the sunshine of her future husband's
+love, and Hurd hunted for the assassin of the late Mr. Norman without
+success. The hand-bills with his portrait and real name, and a
+description of the circumstances of his death, were scattered broadcast
+over the country from Land's End to John-O'Groats, but hitherto no one
+had applied for the reward. The name of Krill seemed to be a rare one,
+and the dead man apparently had no relatives, for no one took the
+slightest interest in the bills beyond envying the lucky person who
+would gain the large reward offered for the conviction of the murderer.
+
+Then, one day Deborah, while cleaning out the cellar, found a piece of
+paper which had slipped down behind one of the safes. These had not been
+removed for many years, and the paper, apparently placed carelessly on
+top, had accidentally dropped behind. Deborah, always thinking something
+might reveal the past to Sylvia and afford a clue to the assassin,
+brought the paper to her mistress. It proved to be a few lines of a
+letter, commenced but never finished. But the few lines were of deep
+interest.
+
+"My dear daughter," these ran, "when I die you will find that I married
+your mother under the name of Lemuel Krill. That is my real name, but I
+wish you to continue to call yourself Norman for necessary reasons. If
+the name of Krill gets into the papers there will be great trouble. Keep
+it from the public. I can tell you where to find the reasons for this as
+I have written--" Here the letter ended abruptly without any signature.
+Norman apparently was writing it when interrupted, and had placed it
+unfinished on the top of the safe, whence it had fallen behind to be
+discovered by Deborah. And now it had strangely come to light, but too
+late for the request to be carried out.
+
+"Oh, Paul," said Sylvia, in dismay, when they read this together, "and
+the bills are already published with the real name of my father."
+
+"It is unfortunate," admitted Paul, frowning. "But, after all, your
+father may have been troubled unnecessarily. For over the fortnight the
+bills have been out and no one seems to take an interest in the matter."
+
+"But I think we ought to call the bills in," said Sylvia, uneasily.
+
+"That's not such an easy matter. They are scattered broadcast, and it
+will be next to impossible to collect them. Besides, the mischief is
+done. Everyone knows by this time that Aaron Norman is Lemuel Krill, so
+the trouble whatever it may be, must come."
+
+"What can it be?" asked the girl anxiously.
+
+Paul shook his head. "Heaven only knows," said he, with a heavy heart.
+"There is certainly something in your father's past life which he did
+not wish known and which led to his death. But since the blow has fallen
+and he is gone, I do not see how the matter can affect you, my darling.
+I'll show this to Pash and see what he says. I expect he knows more
+about your father's past than he will admit."
+
+"But if there should be trouble, Paul--"
+
+"You will have me to take it off your shoulders," he replied, kissing
+her. "My dearest, do not look so pale. Whatever may happen you will
+always have me to stand by you. And Deborah also. She is worth a
+regiment in her fidelity."
+
+So Sylvia was comforted, and Paul, putting the unfinished letter in his
+pocket, went round to see Pash in his Chancery Lane office. He was
+stopped in the outer room by a saucy urchin with an impudent face and a
+bold manner. "Mr. Pash is engaged," said this official, "so you'll 'ave
+to wait, Mr. Beecot."
+
+Paul looked down at the brat, who was curly-headed and as sharp as a
+needle. "How do you know my name?" he asked. "I never saw you before."
+
+"I'm the new office-boy," said the urchin, "wishin' to be respectable
+and leave street-'awking, which ain't what it was. M'name's Tray, an'
+I've seen you afore, mister. I 'elped to pull you out from them wheels
+with the 'aughty gent as guv me a bob fur doin' it."
+
+"Oh, so you helped," said Paul, smiling. "Well, here is another
+shilling. I am much obliged to you, Master Tray. But from what Deborah
+Junk says you were a guttersnipe. How did you get this post?"
+
+"I talked m'self int' it," said Tray, importantly. "Newspapers ain't
+good enough, and you gets pains in wet weather. So I turns a good
+boy"--he grinned evilly--"and goes to a ragged kids' school to do the
+'oly. The superintendent ses I'm a promising case, and he arsked Mr.
+Pash, as is also Sunday inclined, to 'elp me. The orfice-boy 'ere went,
+and I come." Tray tossed the shilling and spat on it for luck as he
+slipped it into the pocket of quite a respectable pair of trousers. "So
+I'm on m'waiy to bein' Lord Mayor turn agin Wittington, as they ses in
+the panymine."
+
+"Well," said Beecot, amused, "I hope you will prove yourself worthy."
+
+Tray winked. "Ho! I'm straight es long es it's wuth m'while. I takes
+m'sal'ry 'ome to gran, and don't plaiy pitch an' torse n'more." He
+winked again, and looked as wicked a brat as ever walked.
+
+Paul had his doubts as to what the outcome of Mr. Pash's charity would
+be, and, being amused, was about to pursue the conversation, when the
+inner door opened and Pash, looking troubled, appeared. When he saw Paul
+he started and came forward.
+
+"I was just about to send Tray for you," said he, looking anxious.
+"Something unpleasant has come to light in connection with Krill."
+
+Beecot started and brought out the scrap of paper. "Look at that," he
+said, "and you will see that the man warned Sylvia."
+
+Pash glanced hurriedly over the paper. "Most unfortunate," he said,
+folding it up and puffing out his cheeks; "but it's too late. The name
+of Krill was in those printed bills--a portrait also, and now--"
+
+"Well, what?" asked Paul, seeing the lawyer hesitated.
+
+"Come inside and you'll see," said Pash, and conducted Beecot into the
+inner room.
+
+Here sat two ladies. The elder was a woman of over fifty, but who looked
+younger, owing to her fresh complexion and plump figure. She had a firm
+face, with hard blue eyes and a rather full-lipped mouth. Her hair was
+white, and there was a great deal of it. Under a widow's cap it was
+dressed _à la_ Marie Antoinette, and she looked very handsome in a
+full-blown, flowery way. She had firm, white hands, rather large, and,
+as she had removed her black gloves, these, Paul saw, were covered with
+cheap rings. Altogether a respectable, well-dressed widow, but evidently
+not a lady.
+
+Nor was the girl beside her, who revealed sufficient similarity of
+features to announce herself the daughter of the widow. There was the
+same fresh complexion, full red lips and hard blue eyes. But the hair
+was of a golden color, and fashionably dressed. The young woman--she
+likewise was not a lady--was also in black.
+
+"This," said Pash, indicating the elder woman, who smiled, "is Mrs.
+Lemuel Krill."
+
+"The wife of the man who called himself Aaron Norman," went on the
+widow; "and this," she indicated her daughter, "is his heiress."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A CUCKOO IN THE NEST
+
+
+Paul looked from the fresh-colored woman who spoke so smoothly and so
+firmly to the apish lawyer hunched in his chair with a sphinx-like look
+on his wrinkled face. For the moment, so taken aback was he by this
+astounding announcement, that he could not speak. The younger woman
+stared at him with her hard blue eyes, and a smile played round her full
+lips. The mother also looked at him in an engaging way, as though she
+rather admired his youthful comeliness in spite of his well-brushed,
+shabby apparel.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," said Beecot at length, "Mr. Pash?"
+
+The lawyer aroused himself to make a concise statement of the case. "So
+far as I understand," he said in his nervous, irritable way, "these
+ladies claim to be the wife and daughter of Lemuel Krill, whom we knew
+as Aaron Norman."
+
+"And I think by his real name also," said the elder woman in her deep,
+smooth contralto voice, and with the display of an admirable set of
+teeth. "The bills advertising the reward, and stating the fact of the
+murder, bore my late husband's real name."
+
+"Norman was not your husband, madam," cried Paul, indignantly.
+
+"I agree with you, sir. Lemuel Krill was my husband. I saw in the
+newspapers, which penetrate even into the quiet little Hants village I
+live in, that Aaron Norman had been murdered. I never thought he was
+the man who had left me more than twenty years ago with an only child to
+bring up. But the bills offering the reward assured me that Norman and
+Krill are one and the same man. Therefore," she drew herself up and
+looked piercingly at the young man, "I have come to see after the
+property. I understand from the papers that my daughter is an heiress to
+millions."
+
+"Not millions," said Pash, hastily. "The newspapers have exaggerated the
+amount. Five thousand a year, madam, and it is left to Sylvia."
+
+"Who is Sylvia?" asked Mrs. Krill, in the words of Shakespeare's song.
+
+"She is the daughter of Mr. Norman," said Paul, quickly, "and is engaged
+to marry me."
+
+Mrs. Krill's eyes travelled over his shabby suit from head to foot, and
+then back again from foot to head. She glanced sideways at her
+companion, and the girl laughed in a hard, contemptuous manner. "I fear
+you will be disappointed in losing a rich wife, sir," said the elder
+woman, sweetly.
+
+"I have not lost the money yet," replied Paul, hotly. "Not that I care
+for the money."
+
+"Of course not," put in Mrs. Krill, ironically, with another look at his
+dress.
+
+"But I _do_ care for Sylvia Norman--"
+
+"With whom I have nothing to do."
+
+"She is your husband's daughter."
+
+"But not mine. This is my daughter, Maud--the legal daughter of Lemuel
+and myself," she added meaningly.
+
+"Good heavens, madam," cried Beecot, his face turning white, "what do
+you mean?"
+
+Mrs. Krill raised her thick white eyebrows, and shrugged her plump
+shoulders, and made a graceful motion with her white, be-ringed hand.
+"Is there any need for me to explain?" she said calmly.
+
+"I think there is every need," cried Beecot, sharply. "I shall not allow
+Miss Norman to lose her fortune or--"
+
+"Or lose it yourself, sir. I quite understand. Nevertheless, I am
+assured that the law of the land will protect, through me, my daughter's
+rights. She leaves it in my hands."
+
+"Yes," said the girl, in a voice as full and rich and soft as her
+smooth-faced mother, "I leave it in her hands."
+
+Paul sat down and concealed his face with a groan. He was thinking not
+so much of the loss of the money, although that was a consideration, as
+of the shame Sylvia would feel at her position. Then a gleam of hope
+darted into his mind. "Mr. Norman was married to Sylvia's mother under
+his own name. You can't prove the marriage void."
+
+"I have no wish to. When did this marriage take place?"
+
+Beecot looked at the lawyer, who replied. "Twenty-two years ago," and he
+gave the date.
+
+Mrs. Krill fished in a black morocco bag she carried and brought out a
+shabby blue envelope. "I thought this might be needed," she said,
+passing it to Pash. "You will find there my marriage certificate. I
+became the wife of Lemuel Krill thirty years ago. And, as I am still
+living, I fear the later marriage--" She smiled blandly and shrugged her
+shoulders again. "Poor girl!" she said with covert insolence.
+
+"Sylvia does not need your pity," cried Beecot, stung by the
+insinuation.
+
+"Indeed, sir," said Mrs. Krill, sadly, and with the look of a
+treacherous cat, "I fear she needs the pity of all right-thinking
+people. Many would speak harshly of her, seeing what she is, but my
+troubles have taught me charity. I repeat that I am sorry for the girl."
+
+"And again I say there is no need," rejoined Paul, throwing back his
+head; "and you forget, madam, there is a will."
+
+Mrs. Krill's fresh color turned to a dull white, and her hard eyes shot
+fire. "A will," she said slowly. "I shall dispute the will if it is not
+in my favor. I am the widow of this man and I claim full justice.
+Besides," she went on, wetting her full lips with her tongue, "I
+understood from the newspapers that the money was left to Mr. Krill's
+daughter."
+
+"Certainly. To Sylvia Krill."
+
+"Norman, sir. She has no right to any other name. But I really do not
+see why I should explain myself to you, sir. If you choose to give this
+girl your name you will be doing a good act. At present the poor
+creature is--nobody." She let the last word drop from her lips slowly,
+so as to give Paul its full sting.
+
+Beecot said nothing. He could not dispute what she said. If this woman
+could prove the marriage of thirty years ago, then Krill, or Norman as
+he called himself, had committed bigamy, and, in the hard eyes of the
+law, Sylvia was nobody's child. And that the marriage could be proved
+Paul saw well enough from the looks of the lawyer, who was studying the
+certificate which he had drawn from the shabby blue envelope. "Then the
+will--the money is left to Sylvia," he said with obstinacy. "I shall
+defend her rights."
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Krill, significantly. "I understand that a wife
+with five thousand--"
+
+"I would marry Sylvia without a penny."
+
+"Indeed, sir, that is the only way in which you can marry her. If you
+like I shall allow her twenty pounds for a trousseau."
+
+Paul rose and flung back his head again. "You have not got the money
+yet, madam," he said defiantly.
+
+Not at all disturbed, Mrs. Krill smiled her eternal smile. "I am here
+to get it. There is a will, you say," she added, turning to Pash. "And I
+understand from this gentleman," she indicated Beecot slightly, "that
+the money is left to Mr. Krill's daughter. Does he name Maud or Sylvia?"
+
+Pash slapped down the certificate irritably. "He names no one. The will
+is a hasty document badly worded, and simply leaves all the testator
+died possessed of to--my daughter."
+
+"Which of course means Maud here. I congratulate you, dear," she said,
+turning to the girl, who looked happy and flushed. "Your father has made
+up to us both for his cruelty and desertion."
+
+Seeing that there was nothing to be said, Paul went to the door. But
+there his common sense left him and he made a valedictory speech. "I
+know that Mr. Krill left the money to Sylvia."
+
+"Oh, no," said the widow, "to his daughter, as I understand the wording
+of the will runs. In that case this nameless girl has nothing."
+
+"Pash!" cried Beecot, turning despairingly to the little solicitor.
+
+The old man shook his head and sucked in his cheeks. "I am sorry, Mr.
+Beecot," said he, in a pitying tone, "but as the will stands the money
+must certainly go to the child born in wedlock. I have the certificate
+here," he laid his monkey paw on it, "but of course I shall make
+inquiries."
+
+"By all means," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. "My daughter and myself
+have lived for many years in Christchurch, Hants. We keep the inn
+there--not the principal inn, but a small public-house on the outskirts
+of the village. It will be a change for us both to come into five
+thousand a year after such penury. Of course, Mr. Pash, you will act for
+my daughter and myself."
+
+"Mr. Pash acts for Sylvia," cried Paul, still lingering at the door. The
+lawyer was on the horns of a dilemma. "If what Mrs. Krill says is true
+I can't dispute the facts," he said irritably, "and I am unwilling to
+give up the business. Prove to me, ma'am, that you are the lawful widow
+of my late client, and that this is my late esteemed client's lawful
+daughter, and I will act for you."
+
+Mrs. Krill's ample bosom rose and fell and her eyes glittered
+triumphantly. She cast a victorious glance at Beecot. But that young man
+was looking at the solicitor. "Rats leave the sinking ship," said he,
+bitterly; "you will not prosper, Pash."
+
+"Everyone prospers who protects the widow and the orphan," said Pash, in
+a pious tone, and so disgusted Paul that he closed the door with a bang
+and went out. Tray was playing chuck-farthing at the door and keeping
+Mr. Grexon Hay from coming in.
+
+"You there, Beecot?" said this gentleman, coldly. "I wish you would tell
+this brat to let me enter."
+
+"Brat yourself y' toff," cried Tray, pocketing his money. "Ain't I
+a-doin' as my master tells me? He's engaged with two pretty women"--he
+leered in a way which made Paul long to box his ears--"so I don't spile
+sport. You've got tired of them, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"How do you know Mr. Beecot's name?" asked Hay, calmly.
+
+"Lor', sir. Didn't you and me pull him from under the wheels?"
+
+"Oh," said Grexon, suddenly enlightened, "were you the boy? Since you
+have washed your face I didn't recognize you. Well, Beecot, you look
+disturbed."
+
+"I have reason to. And since you and this boy pulled me from under the
+wheels of the motor," said Paul, glancing from one to the other, "I
+should like to know what became of the brooch."
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," said Grexon, quietly. "We talked of this
+before. I gave it as my opinion, if you remember, that it was picked up
+in the street by the late Aaron Norman and was used to seal his mouth.
+At least that is the only way in which I can conjecture you lost it."
+
+"You never saw it drop from my pocket?"
+
+"I should have picked it up and returned it had I seen it," said Hay,
+fixing his eye-glass. "Perhaps this boy saw it."
+
+"Saw what?" asked Tray, who was listening with both his large ears.
+
+"An old blue-velvet case with a brooch inside," said Beecot, quickly.
+
+Tray shook his head vigorously. "If I'd seen it I' ha' nicked it," he
+said impudently; "catch me givin' it back t' y', Mr. Beecot. There's a
+cove I knows--a fence that is--as 'ud give me lots fur it. Lor'," said
+Tray, with deep disappointment, "to think as that dropped out of your
+pocket and I never grabbed it. Wot crewel luck--ho!" and he spat.
+
+Paul looked hard at the boy, who met his gaze innocently enough.
+Apparently he spoke in all seriousness, and really lamented the lost
+chance of gaining a piece of jewellery to make money out of. Moreover,
+had he stolen the brooch, he would hardly have talked so openly of the
+fence he alluded to. Hay the young man could not suspect, as there was
+positively no reason why he should steal so comparatively trifling an
+article. Sharper as he was, Hay flew at higher game, and certainly would
+not waste his time, or risk his liberty, in stealing what would bring
+him in only a few shillings.
+
+"Why don't you ask the detectives to search for the brooch," said Hay,
+smiling.
+
+"It is in the detective's possession," said Paul, sullenly; "but we want
+to know how it came to pin Norman's lips together."
+
+"I can't imagine, unless he picked it up. If lost at all it must have
+been lost in the street the old man lived in, and you told me he wanted
+the brooch badly."
+
+"But he wasn't on the spot?"
+
+"Wot," cried Tray, suddenly, "the one-eyed cove? Ho, yuss, but warn't
+he? Why, when they was a-gitin' the ambulance, an' the peelers wos
+a-crowdin' round, he come dancing like billeo out of his shorp."
+
+Beecot thought this was strange, as he understood from Deborah and Bart
+and Sylvia that Norman had known nothing of the accident at the time.
+Then again Norman himself had not mentioned it when he paid that visit
+to the hospital within a few hours of his death. "I don't think that's
+true," he said to Tray sharply.
+
+"Oh, cuss it," said that young gentleman, "wot d' I care. Th' ole cove
+come an' danced in the mud, and then he gits int' his shorp again. Trew
+is trew, saiy wot y' like, mister--ho."
+
+Beecot turned his back on the boy. After all, he was not worth arguing
+with, and a liar by instinct. Still, in this case he might have spoken
+the truth. Norman might have appeared on the scene of the accident and
+have picked up the brooch. Paul thought he would tell Hurd this, and,
+meantime, held out his hand to Hay. In spite of the bad character he had
+heard of that young man, he saw no reason why he should not be civil to
+him, until he found him out. Meantime, he was on his guard.
+
+"One moment," said Grexon, grasping the outstretched hand. "I have
+something to say to you," and he walked a little way with Paul. "I am
+going in to see Pash on business which means a little money to me. I was
+the unfortunate cause of your accident, Beecot, so I think you might
+accept twenty pounds or so from me."
+
+"No, thank you all the same," said Paul gratefully, yet with a certain
+amount of caution. "I can struggle along. After all, it was an
+accident."
+
+"A very unfortunate one," said Hay, more heartily than usual. "I shall
+never forgive myself. Is your arm all right?"
+
+"Oh, much better. I'll be quite cured in a week or so."
+
+"And meantime how do you live?"
+
+"I manage to get along," replied Paul, reservedly. He did not wish to
+reveal the nakedness of the land to such a doubtful acquaintance.
+
+"You are a hard-hearted sort of chap," said Hay coldly, but rather
+annoyed at his friendly advances being flouted. "Well, then, if you
+won't accept a loan, let me help you in another way. Come and dine at my
+rooms. I have a young publisher coming also, and if you meet him he will
+be able to do something for you. He's under obligations to me, and you
+may be certain I'll use all my influence in your favor. Come now--next
+Tuesday--that's a week off--you can't have any engagement at such a long
+notice."
+
+Paul smiled. "I never do have any engagements," he said with his boyish
+smile, "thank you. I'll look in if I can. But I am in trouble,
+Grexon--very great trouble."
+
+"You shouldn't be," said Hay, smiling. "I know well enough why you will
+not accept my loan. The papers say Sylvia, your Dulcinea, has inherited
+a million. You are to marry her. Unless," said Hay, suddenly, "this
+access of wealth has turned her head and she has thrown you over. Is she
+that sort of girl?"
+
+"No," said Paul quietly, "she is as true to me as I am to her. But you
+are mistaken as to the million. It is five thousand a year, and she may
+not even inherit that."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I am not at liberty to say. But with regard to your dinner," added
+Paul, hastily changing the conversation, "I'll come if I can get my
+dress-suit out of pawn."
+
+"Then I count on you," said Hay, blandly, "though you will not let me
+help you to obtain the suit. However, this publisher will do a lot for
+you. By Jove, what a good-looking girl."
+
+He said this under his breath. Miss Maud Krill appeared on the doorstep
+where the two young men stood and stumbled against Grexon in passing.
+His hat was off at once, and he apologized profusely. Miss Krill, who
+seemed a young woman of few words, as Paul thought from her silence in
+the office, smiled and bowed, but passed on, without saying a "thank
+you." Mrs. Krill followed, escorted by the treacherous Pash who was all
+smiles and hand-washings and bows. Apparently he was quite convinced
+that the widow's story was true, and Paul felt sick at the news he would
+have to tell Sylvia. Pash saw the young man, and meeting his indignant
+eyes darted back into his office like a rabbit into its burrow. The
+widow sailed out in her calm, serene way, without a look at either Paul
+or his companion. Yet the young man had an instinct that she saw them
+both.
+
+"That's the mother I expect," said Hay, putting his glass firmly into
+his eye; "a handsome pair. Gad, Paul, that young woman--eh?"
+
+"Perhaps you'd like to marry her," said Paul, bitterly.
+
+Hay drew himself up stiffly. "I don't marry stray young women I see on
+the street, however attractive," he said in his cold voice. "I don't
+know either of these ladies."
+
+"Pash will introduce you if you make it worth his while."
+
+"Why the deuce should I," retorted Hay, staring.
+
+"Well," said Beecot, impulsively telling the whole of the misfortune
+that had befallen him, "that is the wife and that is the daughter of
+Aaron Norman, _alias_ Krill. The daughter inherits five thousand a year,
+so marry her and be happy."
+
+"But your Dulcinea?" asked Grexon, dropping his eye-glass in amazement.
+
+"She has me and poverty," said Paul, turning away. Nor could the quiet
+call of Hay make him stop. But at the end of the street he looked back,
+and saw Grexon entering the office of the lawyer. If Hay was the man
+Hurd said he was, Paul guessed that he would inquire about the heiress
+and marry her too, if her banking account was large and safe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE NEW LIFE
+
+
+For obvious reasons Beecot did not return to Gwynne Street. It was
+difficult to swallow this bitter pill which Providence had administered.
+In place of an assured future with Sylvia, he found himself confronted
+with his former poverty, with no chance of marrying the girl, and with
+the obligation of telling her that she had no right to any name. Paul
+was by no means a coward, and his first impulse was to go at once and
+inform Sylvia of her reverse of fortune. But it was already late, and he
+thought it would be only kind to withhold the bad news till the morrow,
+and thus avoid giving the disinherited girl a tearful and wakeful night.
+Therefore, after walking the Embankment till late, Paul went to his
+garret.
+
+To the young man's credit it must be said that he cared very little for
+the loss of the money, although he grieved on Sylvia's account. Had he
+been able to earn a small income, he would have married the girl and
+given her the protection of his name without the smallest hesitation.
+But he was yet unknown to fame; he was at variance with his father, and
+he could scarcely bring Sylvia to share his bitter poverty--which might
+grow still more bitter in that cold and cheerless garret.
+
+Then there was another thing to consider. Paul had written to his father
+explaining the circumstances of his engagement to Sylvia, and asking
+for the paternal blessing. To gain this, he mentioned that his promised
+wife had five thousand a year. Bully and tyrant as Beecot senior was, he
+loved money, and although well off, was always on the alert to have more
+brought into the family. With the bribe of a wealthy wife, Paul had
+little doubt but what the breach would be healed, and Sylvia welcomed as
+the sweetest and most desirable daughter-in-law in the world. Then Paul
+fancied the girl would be able to subdue with her gentle ways the
+stubborn heart of his father, and would also be able to make Mrs. Beecot
+happy. Indeed, he had received a letter from his mother congratulating
+him on his wealthy match, for the good lady wished to see Paul
+independent of the domestic tyrant. Also Mrs. Beecot had made many
+inquiries about Sylvia's goodness and beauty, and hoped that he had
+chosen wisely, and hinted that no girl living was worthy of her son,
+after the fashion of mothers. Paul had replied to this letter setting
+forth his own unworthiness and Sylvia's perfections, and Mrs. Beecot had
+accepted the good news with joy. But the letter written to Beecot senior
+was yet unanswered, and Paul began to think that not even the chance of
+having a rich daughter-in-law would prevail against the obstinacy of the
+old gentleman.
+
+But when he reached his garret, after that lonely and tormenting walk on
+the Embankment, he found a letter from his father, and opened it with
+some trepidation. It proved to contain joyful news. Mr. Beecot thanked
+Heaven that Paul was not such a fool as he had been of yore, and hinted
+that this sudden access of sense which had led him to engage himself to
+a wealthy girl had come from his father and not from his mother.
+He--Beecot senior--was aware that Paul had acted badly, and had not
+remembered what was due to the best of fathers; but since he was
+prepared to settle down with a rich wife, Beecot senior nobly forgave
+the past and Paul's many delinquences (mentioned in detail) and would be
+glad to welcome his daughter-in-law. Then Beecot, becoming the tyrant
+again, insisted that the marriage should take place in Wargrove, and
+that the fact of Sylvia's father being murdered should be suppressed. In
+fact, the old gentleman left nothing to the young couple, but arranged
+everything in his own selfish way, even to choosing, in Wargrove, the
+house they would inhabit. The house, he mentioned, was one of his own
+which could not be let on account of some trivial tale of a ghost, and
+Mr. Beecot would give this as a marriage gift to Paul, thus getting rid
+of an unprofitable property and playing the part of a generous father at
+one and the same time. In spite of his bucolic ways and pig-headed
+obstinacy and narrow views, Beecot senior possessed a certain amount of
+cunning which Paul read in every line of the selfish letter before him.
+
+However, the main point was, that the old gentleman seemed ready to
+overlook the past and to receive Sylvia. Paul wanted to return to his
+home, not so much on account of his father, as because he wished to
+smooth the remaining years of his mother, and he knew well that Sylvia
+with her gentle ways and heart of gold would make Mrs. Beecot happy. So
+long as Paul loved the girl he wished to marry, the mother was happy;
+but Beecot senior had an eye to the money, and thus was ready to be
+bribed into forgiveness and decent behavior. Now all this was altered.
+From the tone of the letter, Paul knew his father would never consent to
+his marrying a girl not only without a name, but lacking the fortune
+which alone rendered her desirable in his eyes. Still, the truth would
+have to be told, and if Beecot senior refused to approve of the
+marriage, the young couple would have to do without his sanction. The
+position, thought Paul, would only make him work the harder, so that
+within a reasonable time he might be able to provide a home for Sylvia.
+
+So, the young man facing the situation, bravely wrote to his father and
+explained how the fortune had passed from Sylvia, but declared, with all
+the romance of youth, that he intended to marry the girl all the same.
+If Beecot senior, said Paul, would permit the marriage, and allow the
+couple a small income until the husband could earn enough to keep the
+pot boiling, the writer would be grateful. If not, Paul declared firmly
+that he would work like a slave to make a home for his darling. But
+nothing in the world would make him give up Sylvia. This was the letter
+to his father, and then Paul wrote one to his mother, detailing the
+circumstances and imploring her to stand by him, although in his own
+sinking heart he felt that Mrs. Beecot was but a frail reed on which to
+lean. He finished these letters and posted them before midnight. Then he
+went to bed and dreamed that the bad news was all moonshine, and that
+Sylvia and he were a happy rich married pair.
+
+But the cold grey searching light of dawn brought the actual state of
+things again to his mind and so worried him that he could hardly eat any
+breakfast. He spent the morning in writing a short tale, for which he
+had been promised a couple of sovereigns, and took it to the office of
+the weekly paper which had accepted it, on his way to Gwynne Street.
+Paul's heart was heavy, thinking of what he had to tell, but he did not
+intend to let Sylvia see that he was despondent. On turning down the
+street he raised his head, assumed a smile and walked with a confident
+step into the shop.
+
+As he entered he heard a heavy woman plunge down the stairs, and found
+his arm grasped by Deborah, very red-faced and very furious, the moment
+he crossed the threshold. Bart could be heard knocking boxes together in
+the cellar, as he was getting Deborah's belongings ready for removal to
+Jubileetown, where the cottage, and the drying ground for the laundry,
+had already been secured through Pash. But Paul had no time to ask what
+was going on. A glance at the hand-maiden's tearful face revealed that
+she knew the worst, in which case Sylvia must also have heard the news.
+
+"Yes," cried Deborah, seeing the sudden whiteness of Paul's cheeks, and
+shaking him so much as to hurt his injured arm, "she knows, she do--oh,
+lor', bless us that things should come to this--and there she's settin'
+a-crying out her beautiful eyes for you, Mr. Beecot. Thinking of your
+throwin' her over, and if you do," shouted Deborah, with another shake,
+"you'd better ha' bin smashed to a jelly than face me in my presingt
+state. Seein' you from the winder I made bold to come down and arsk your
+intentings; for if them do mean no marriage and the breaking of my
+pretty's 'eart, never shall she set eyes agin on a double-faced Jonah,
+and--and--" Here Deborah gasped for breath and again shook Paul.
+
+"Deborah," he said, in a quiet voice, releasing himself, "I love Sylvia
+for herself and not for her money."
+
+Deborah threw her brawny arms in the air and her apron over her red
+head. "I knowed it--oh, yuss, indeed," she sobbed in muffled tones. "Ses
+I, I ses, Mr. Paul's a gentleman whatever his frantic par may be and
+marry you, my own lovey, he will, though not able to afford the marriage
+fees, the same as will come out of Debby's pocket, though the laundry go
+by the board. 'Eaven knows what we'll live on all the same, pore wurkhus
+ijets as me an' Bart are, not bein' able to make you an' Miss Sylvia
+'appy. Miss Sylvia Krill an' Norman both," ended Deborah with emphasis,
+"whatever that smooth cat with the grin and the clawses may say, drat
+her fur a slimy tabby--yah!"
+
+"I see you know all," said Paul, as soon as he could slip in a word.
+
+"Know all," almost yelled Deborah, dragging down the apron and revealing
+flashing eyes, "and it's a mussy I ain't in Old Bailey this very day for
+scratching that monkey of a Pash. Oh, if I'd known wot he wos never
+should he 'ave got me the laundry, though the same may have to go, worse
+luck. Ho, yuss! he come, and she come with her kitting, as is almost as
+big a cat as she is. Mrs. Krill, bless her, oh, yuss, Mrs. Krill, the
+sneakin', smiling Jezebel."
+
+"Did she see Sylvia?" asked Beecot, sharply.
+
+"Yuss, she did," admitted Deborah, "me lettin' her in not knowin' her
+scratchin's. An' the monkey an' the kitting come too--a-spyin' out the
+land as you may say. W'en I 'eard the noos I 'owled Mr. Paul, but my
+pretty she turned white like one of them plaster stateys as boys sell
+cheap in the streets, and ses she, she ses, 'Oh Paul'--if you'll forgive
+me mentioning your name, sir, without perliteness."
+
+"Bless her, my darling. Did she think of me," said Beecot, tenderly.
+
+"Ah, when do she not think of you, sir? 'Eart of gold, though none in
+her pocket by means of that Old Bailey woman as is a good match fur my
+Old Bailey master. Ho! he wos a bad 'un, and 'ow Miss Sylvia ever come
+to 'ave sich a par beats me. But I thank 'eaven the cat ain't my
+pretty's mar, though she do 'ave a daughter of her own, the painted,
+stuck-up parcel of bad bargains."
+
+Paul nodded. "Calling names won't do any good, Deborah," he said sadly;
+"we must do the best we can."
+
+"There ain't no chance of the lawr gettin' that woman to the gallers I
+'spose, sir?"
+
+"The woman is your late master's lawful wife. Pash seems to think so and
+has gone over to the enemy"--here Deborah clenched her mighty fists and
+gasped. "Sylvia's mother was married later, and as the former wife is
+alive Sylvia is--"
+
+"No," shouted Deborah, flinging out her hand, "don't say it."
+
+"Sylvia is poor," ended Paul, calmly. "What did you think I was about to
+say, Deborah?"
+
+"What that cat said, insulting of my pretty. But I shoved her out of the
+door, tellin' her what she were. She guv me and Bart and my own sunbeam
+notice to quit," gasped Deborah, almost weeping, "an' quit we will this
+very day, Bart bein' a-packin' at this momingt. 'Ear 'im knocking, and I
+wish he wos a-knockin' at Mrs. Krill's 'ead, that I do, the flauntin'
+hussy as she is, drat her."
+
+"I'll go up and see Sylvia. No, Deborah, don't you come for a few
+minutes. When you do come we'll arrange what is to be done."
+
+Deborah nodded acquiescence. "Take my lovely flower in your arms, sir,"
+she said, following him to the foot of the stairs, "and tell her as your
+'eart is true, which true I knowed it would be."
+
+Beecot was soon in the sitting-room and found Sylvia on the sofa, her
+face buried in her hands. She looked up when she recognized the beloved
+footsteps and sprang to her feet. The next moment she was sobbing her
+heart out on Paul's faithful breast, and he was comforting her with all
+the endearing names he could think of.
+
+"My own, my sweet, my dearest darling," whispered Paul, smoothing the
+pretty brown hair, "don't weep. You have lost much, but you have me."
+
+"Dear," she wept, "do you think it is true?"
+
+"I am afraid it is, Sylvia. However, I know a young lawyer, who is a
+friend of mine, and I'll speak to him."
+
+"But Paul, though my mother may not have been married to my father--"
+
+"She _was_, Sylvia, but Mrs. Krill was married to him earlier. Your
+father committed bigamy, and you, poor child, have to pay the penalty."
+
+"Well, even if the marriage is wrong, the money was left to us."
+
+"To you, dear," said Beecot, leading her to the sofa, "that is, the
+money was left in that loosely-worded will to 'my daughter.' We all
+thought it was you, but now this legal wife has come on the scene, the
+money must go to her daughter. Oh, Sylvia," cried Paul, straining her to
+his breast, "how foolish your father was not to say the money was left
+to 'my daughter Sylvia.' Then everything would have been right. But the
+absence of the name is fatal. The law will assume that the testator
+meant his true daughter."
+
+"And am I not his true daughter?" she asked, her lips quivering.
+
+"You are my own darling, Sylvia," murmured Paul, kissing her hair;
+"don't let us talk of the matter. I'll speak to my lawyer friend, but I
+fear from the attitude of Pash that Mrs. Krill will make good her claim.
+Were there a chance of keeping you in possession of the money, Pash
+would never have left you so easily."
+
+"I am so sorry about the money on your account, Paul."
+
+"My own," he said cheerily, "money is a good thing, and I wish we could
+have kept the five thousand a year. But I have you, and you have me, and
+although we cannot marry for a long time yet--"
+
+"Not marry, Paul! Oh, why not?"
+
+"Dearest, I am poor, I cannot drag you down to poverty."
+
+Sylvia looked at him wide-eyed. "I am poor already." She looked round
+the room. "Nothing here is mine. I have only a few clothes. Mr. Pash
+said that Mrs. Krill would take everything. Let me marry you, darling,"
+she whispered coaxingly, "and we can live in your garret. I will cook
+and mend, and be your own little wife."
+
+Beecot groaned. "Don't tempt me, Sylvia," he said, putting her away, "I
+dare not marry you. Why, I have hardly enough to pay the fees. No, dear,
+you must go with Debby to her laundry, and I'll work night and day to
+make enough for us to live on. Then we'll marry, and--"
+
+"But your father, Paul?"
+
+"He won't do anything. He consented to our engagement, but solely, I
+believe, because he thought you were rich. Now, when he knows you are
+poor--and I wrote to tell him last night--he will forbid the match."
+
+"Paul!" She clung to him in sick terror.
+
+"My sweetest"--he caught her in his arms--"do you think a dozen fathers
+would make me give you up? No, my love of loves--my soul, my heart of
+hearts--come good, come ill, we will be together. You can stay with
+Debby at Jubileetown until I make enough to welcome you to a home,
+however humble. Dear, be hopeful, and trust in the God who brought us
+together. He is watching over us, and, knowing that, why need we fear?
+Don't cry, darling heart."
+
+"I'm not crying for crying," sobbed Sylvia, hiding her face on his
+breast and speaking incoherently; "but I'm so happy--"
+
+"In spite of the bad news?" asked Paul, laughing gently.
+
+"Yes--yes--to think that you should still wish to marry me. I am
+poor--I--I--have--no name, and--"
+
+"Dearest, you will soon have my name."
+
+"But Mrs. Krill said--"
+
+"I don't want to hear what she said," cried Paul, impetuously; "she is a
+bad woman. I can see badness written all over her smiling face. We
+won't think of her. When you leave here you won't see her again. My own
+dear little sweetheart," whispered Paul, tenderly, "when you leave this
+unhappy house, let the bad past go. You and I will begin a new life.
+Come, don't cry, my pet. Here's Debby."
+
+Sylvia looked up, and threw herself into the faithful servant's arms.
+"Oh, Debby, he loves me still; he's going to marry me whenever he can."
+
+Deborah laughed and wiped Sylvia's tears away with her coarse apron,
+tenderly. "You silly flower," she cried caressingly; "you foolish queen
+of 'oney bees, of course he have you in his 'eart. You'll be bride and
+I'll be bridesmaid, though not a pretty one, and all will be 'oney and
+sunshine and gates of pearl, my beauty."
+
+"Debby--I'm--I'm--so happy!"
+
+Deborah placed her young mistress in Paul's arms. "Then let 'im make you
+'appier, pretty lily of the valley. Lor', as if anything bad 'ud ever
+come to you two while silly old Debby have a leg to stan' on an' arms to
+wash. Though the laundry--oh, lor'!" and she rubbed her nose till it
+grew scarlet, "what of it, Mr. Beecot, I do ask?"
+
+"Have you enough money to pay a year's rent?"
+
+"Yes, me and Bart have saved one 'undred between us. Rent and furniture
+and taxes can come out of it, sure. And my washin's what I call
+washin'," said Deborah, emphatically; "no lost buttings and tored sheets
+and ragged collars. I'd wash ag'in the queen 'erself, tho' I ses it as
+shouldn't. Give me a tub, and you'll see if the money don't come in."
+
+"Well, then, Deborah, as I am too poor to marry Sylvia now, I want her
+to stop with you till I can make a home for her."
+
+"An' where else should she stop but with her own silly, foolish Debby,
+I'd like to know? My flower, you come an' be queen of the laundry."
+
+"I'll keep the accounts, Debby," said Sylvia, now all smiling.
+
+"You'll keep nothin' but your color an' your dear 'eart up," retorted
+Debby, sniffing; "me an' Bart 'ull do all. An' this blessed day we'll go
+to Jubileetown with our belongings. And you, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I'll come and see you settled, Deborah, and then I return to earn an
+income for Sylvia. I won't let you keep her long."
+
+"She'll stop as long as she have the will," shouted Debby, hugging
+Sylvia; "as to that Krill cat--"
+
+"She can take possession as soon as she likes. And, Deborah," added
+Paul, significantly, "for all that has happened, I don't intend to drop
+the search for your late master's murderer."
+
+"It's the Krill cat as done it," said Debby, "though I ain't got no
+reason for a-sayin' of such a think."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE DETECTIVE'S VIEWS
+
+
+As Paul expected, the next letter from his father contained a revocation
+of all that had pleased him in the former one. Beecot senior wrote many
+pages of abuse--he always did babble like a complaining woman when
+angered. He declined to sanction the marriage and ordered his son at
+once--underlined--to give up all thought of making Sylvia Norman his
+wife. It would have been hard enough, wrote Beecot, to have received her
+as a daughter-in-law even with money, seeing that she had no position
+and was the daughter of a murdered tradesman, but seeing also that she
+was a pauper, and worse, a girl without a cognomen, he forbade Paul to
+bestow on her the worthy name of Beecot, so nobly worn by himself. There
+was much more to the same effect, which Paul did not read, and the
+letter ended grandiloquently in a command that Paul was to repair at
+once to the Manor and there grovel at the feet of his injured father.
+
+To this despotic epistle the young man answered in a few lines. He said
+that he intended to marry Sylvia, and that nothing would make him give
+her up, and that he would not meet his father again until that father
+remembered that his son was an Englishman and not a slave. Paul signed
+his letter without the usual "your affectionate son," for he felt that
+he had small love for this imperious old man who declined to control his
+passions. So he now, knew the worst. The breach between himself and his
+father was wider than ever, and he had only his youth and his brains to
+depend upon, in making a living for himself and a home for Sylvia.
+Strange to say, Paul's spirits rose, and he braced himself bravely to do
+battle with fortune for his beloved.
+
+Sylvia, under the charge of Deborah, and escorted by Bart Tawsey, had
+duly left Gwynne Street, bag and baggage, and she was now established in
+Rose Cottage, Jubileetown. The house was a small one, and there was not
+a single rose in the garden around it. Indeed, as the cottage had been
+newly erected, there was not even a garden, and it stood amidst a bare
+acre with a large drying-ground at the back. But the cottage, on the
+outskirts of the new suburb, was, to all intents and purposes, in the
+country, and Sylvia's weary eyes were so gladdened by green fields and
+glorious trees that she forgot the nakedness of her immediate
+surroundings. She was assigned the best room in the small abode, and one
+of the first things she did was to write a letter to Paul asking him to
+repair to Rose Cottage to witness the marriage of Deborah and Bart. The
+handmaiden thought this was necessary, so that she could make full use
+of her intended husband.
+
+"If he wasn't here allays," said the bride-elect, "he'd be gadding about
+idling. I know him. An' me getting a business together won't be easy
+unless I've got him at 'and, as you may say, to take round the bills,
+let alone that he ought to sleep in the 'ouse in case burgulars gits in.
+And sleep in the 'ouse without the blessin' of matrimony he can't, my
+pretty, so that's all about it."
+
+Deborah, as an American would say, was a "hustler," and having made up
+her mind, she did not let grass grow under her feet. She called on the
+vicar of the parish and explained herself at great length, but
+suppressed the fact that she had formerly lived in Gwynne Street. She
+did not want the shadow of the murder to cast a gloom over her new home,
+and therefore said nothing about the matter. All the vicar, good, easy
+soul, knew, was that Deborah had been a servant in a respectable family
+(whereabouts not mentioned); that the father and mother had died, and
+that she had brought the only daughter of the house to live with her and
+be treated like a lady. Then Deborah demanded that the banns should be
+put up, and arranged that Bart should take up his abode in the parish
+for the necessary time. This was done, and for three Sundays Deborah had
+the pleasure of hearing the banns announced which foretold that Bart
+Tawsey and herself would soon be man and wife. Then the marriage took
+place.
+
+The future Mrs. Tawsey had no relatives, but Bart produced a snuffy old
+grandmother from some London slum who drank gin during the
+wedding-feast, much to the scandal of the bride. Paul acted as best man
+to Bart, and Sylvia, in her plain black dress, was bridesmaid. Mrs.
+Purr, the grandmother, objected to the presence of black at a wedding,
+saying it was unlucky, and told of many fearful incidents which had
+afterwards occurred to those who had tolerated such a funeral garb. But
+Deborah swept away all opposition.
+
+"What!" she shouted in her usual style, "not 'ave my own sweet pretty to
+arsk a blessing on my marriage, and she not able to git out of 'er
+blacks? I'm astonished at you, Mrs. Purr, and you an old woman as
+oughter know better. I doubt if you're Bart's granny. I've married into
+an ijit race. Don't talk to me, Mrs. Purr, if you please. Live clean an'
+work 'ard, and there's no trouble with them 'usbands. As 'as to love,
+honor and obey you."--And she sniffed.
+
+"Them words you 'ave t' saiy," mumbled Mrs. Purr.
+
+"Ho," said Deborah, scornfully, "I'd like to see me say 'em to sich a
+scrub as Bart."
+
+But say them she did at the altar, being compelled to do so by the
+vicar. But when the ceremony was over, the newly-made Mrs. Tawsey took
+Bart by the arm and shook him. He was small and lean and of a nervous
+nature, so he quivered like a jelly in his wife's tremendous grip.
+Deborah was really ignorant of her own strength.
+
+"You 'ark to me, Bart," said she, while the best man and bridesmaid
+walked on ahead talking lovingly. "I said them words, which you oughter
+'ave said, 'cause you ain't got no memory t' speak of. But they ain't my
+beliefs, but yours, or I'll know the reason why. Jes' you say them now.
+Swear, without Billingsgate, as you'll allays love, honor an' obey your
+lovin' wife."
+
+Bart, still being shaken, gasped out the words, and then gave his arm to
+the lady who was to rule his life. Deborah kissed him in a loud, hearty
+way, and led him in triumph to the cottage. Here Mrs. Purr had prepared
+a simple meal, and the health of the happy pair was proposed by Paul.
+Mrs. Purr toasted them in gin, and wept as she did so. A dismal, tearful
+old woman was Mrs. Purr, and she was about to open her mouth, in order
+to explain what she thought would come of the marriage, when Mrs. Tawsey
+stopped her.
+
+"None of them groans," cried Deborah, with vigor. "I won't have my
+weddings made funerals. 'Old your tongue, Mrs. Purr, and you, Bart, jes'
+swear to love, honor an' obey my pretty as you would your own lawful
+wife, and the ceremonies is hoff."
+
+Bart performed the request, and then Paul, laughing at the oddity of it
+all, took his leave. On walking to the gate, he was overtaken by Mrs.
+Purr, who winked mysteriously. "Whatever you do, sir," said the lean old
+creature, with many contortions of her withered face, "don't have
+nothin' to do with Tray."
+
+"Tray," echoed Paul in surprise. "Mr. Pash's office boy?"
+
+"Him and none other. I knows his grandmother, as 'as bin up for drunk
+two hundred times, and is proud of it. Stretchers is as common to her,
+sir, as kissings is to a handsome young gent like you. An' the boy takes
+arter her. A deep young cuss," whispered Granny Purr, significantly.
+
+"But why should I beware of him?" asked Beecot, puzzled.
+
+"A nod's a wink to a blind 'un," croaked Mrs. Purr, condensing the
+proverb, and turning away. "Jus' leave that brat, Tray, to his own
+wickedness. They'll bring him to the gallers some day."
+
+"But I want to know--"
+
+"Ah, well, then, you won't, sir. I ses what I ses, and I ses no more nor
+I oughter say. So good-night, sir," and Mrs. Purr toddled up the
+newly-gravelled path, and entered the cottage, leaving an odor of gin
+behind her.
+
+Beecot had half a mind to follow, so strange was the hint she had given
+him. Apparently, she knew something which connected him with Tray, and
+Paul wondered for the fiftieth time, if the boy had picked up the opal
+brooch. However, he decided to leave the matter alone for the present.
+Mrs. Purr, whom Deborah had engaged to iron, was always available, and
+Paul decided, that should anything point to Tray's being implicated in
+the finding of the opal serpent, that he would hand him over to Hurd,
+who would be better able to deal with such a keen young imp of the
+gutter. Thus making up his mind, Paul dismissed all thought of Mrs.
+Purr's mysterious utterance, and walked briskly to the nearest
+bus-stand, where he took a blue vehicle to the Bloomsbury district. All
+the way to his garret he dreamed of Sylvia, and poor though was the
+home he had left her in, he was thankful that she was there in the safe
+shelter of Mrs. Deborah Tawsey's arms.
+
+It was five o'clock when Paul arrived at the door of the stairs leading
+to his attic, and here he was touched on the shoulder by no less a
+person than Mr. Billy Hurd. Only when he spoke did Paul recognize him by
+his voice, for the gentleman who stood before him was not the brown
+individual he knew as the detective. Mr. Hurd was in evening dress, with
+the neatest of patent boots and the tightest of white gloves. He wore a
+brilliantly-polished silk hat, and twirled a gold-headed cane. Also he
+had donned a smart blue cloth overcoat with a velvet collar and cuffs.
+But though his voice was the voice of Hurd, his face was that of quite a
+different person. His hair was dark and worn rather long, his moustache
+black and large, and brushed out _à la Kaiser_, and he affected an
+eye-glass as immovable as that of Hay's. Altogether a wonderfully
+changed individual.
+
+"Hurd," said Paul, starting with surprise.
+
+"It's my voice told you. But now--" he spoke a tone higher in a shrill
+sort of way and with a foreign accent--"vould you me discover, mon ami?"
+he inquired, with a genuine Parisian shrug.
+
+"No. Why are you masquerading as a Frenchman, Hurd?"
+
+"Not Hurd in this skin, Mr. Beecot. Comte de la Tour, à votre service,"
+and he presented a thin glazed card with a coronet engraved on it.
+
+"Well, Count," said Beecot, laughing, "what can I do for you?"
+
+"Come up to your room," said the pseudo count, mounting the stairs;
+"there's something to be talked over between us."
+
+"No bad news, I hope?"
+
+"Ah, my poor friend," said the detective, in his usual genial voice,
+"you have had enough bad news, I am aware. To lose a lovely wife and a
+fine fortune at once. Eh, what a pity!"
+
+"I have lost the money, certainly," said Beecot, lighting his lamp, "but
+the wife will be mine as soon as I can save sufficient to give her a
+better home than this."
+
+Monsieur le Comte de la Tour sat down and gracefully flung open his
+overcoat, so as to expose a spotless shirt front. "What?" he asked,
+lifting his darkened eyebrows, "so you mean to marry that girl?"
+
+"Of course," said Paul, angrily; "do you think I'm a brute?"
+
+"But the money?"
+
+"What does that matter. I love her, not the money."
+
+"And the name. Her birth--"
+
+"I'll give her my own name and then we'll see who will dare to say a
+word against my wife."
+
+Hurd stretched out his hand, and, grasping that of Beecot's, shook it
+warmly. "Upon my word you are a man, and that's almost better than being
+a gentleman," he said heartily. "I've heard everything from Mr. Pash,
+and I honor you Mr. Beecot--I honor you."
+
+Paul stared. "You must have been brought up in a queer way, Hurd," he
+said drily, "to express this surprise because a man acts as a man and
+not as a blackguard."
+
+"Ah, but you see in my profession I have mixed with blackguards, and
+that has lowered my moral tone. It's refreshing to meet a straight,
+honorable man such as you are, Mr. Beecot. I liked you when first I set
+eyes on you, and determined to help you to discover the assassin of
+Aaron Norman--"
+
+"Lemuel Krill you mean."
+
+"I prefer to call him by the name we both know best," said Hurd, "but
+as I was saying, I promised to help you to find out who killed the man;
+now I'll help you to get back the money."
+
+Paul sat down and stared. "What do you mean?" he asked. "The money can't
+be got back. I asked a legal friend of mine, and put the case to him,
+since that monkey of a Pash has thrown us over. My friend said that as
+no name was mentioned in the will, Maud Krill would undoubtedly inherit
+the money. Besides, I learn that the certificate of marriage is all
+right. Mrs. Krill undoubtedly married Aaron Norman under his rightful
+name thirty years ago."
+
+"Oh, yes, that's all right," said Hurd, producing a dainty silver
+cigarette case, which was part of his "get-up." "Mrs. Krill is the widow
+of the murdered man, and the silly way in which the will has been made
+gives the five thousand a year to her daughter, whom Mrs. Krill has
+under her thumb. It's all right as I say. But I shouldn't be surprised
+to learn that there were circumstances in Aaron Norman's past life which
+led him to leave his wife, and which may lead Mrs. Krill into buying
+silence by giving Miss Norman half the income. You could live on two
+thousand odd a year, eh?"
+
+"Not obtained in that way," said Beecot, filling his pipe and passing a
+match to Hurd. "If the money comes legally to Sylvia, well and good;
+otherwise she will have nothing to do with it."
+
+Hurd looked round the bleak garret expressively and shrugged his
+shoulders again. "I think you are wrong, Mr. Beecot. You can't bring her
+here."
+
+"No. But I may make enough money to give her a better home."
+
+"Can I help you?"
+
+"I don't see how you can. I want to be an author."
+
+"Well," said Hurd, whose British speech was in strange contrast to his
+foreign appearance, "it's not a bad game to be an author if you get a
+good serial connection. Oh, don't look surprised. I know about
+newspapers and publishers as I know about most things. See here, Mr.
+Beecot, have you ever tried your hand at a detective story?"
+
+"No. I write on a higher level."
+
+"You won't write on a more paying level," replied Hurd, coolly. "I know
+a newspaper which will give you--if I recommend you, mind--one hundred
+pounds for a good detective yarn. You apply for it."
+
+"But I couldn't make up one of those plots--so intricate."
+
+"Pooh. It's a trick. You set your puppets in such and such a way and
+then mix them up. I'll give you the benefit of my experience as a 'tec,
+and with my plot and your own writing we'll be able to knock up a story
+for the paper I talk of. Then, with one hundred pounds you'll have a
+nest-egg to start with."
+
+"I accept with gratitude," said Beecot, moved, "but I really don't know
+why you should trouble about me."
+
+"Because you're a white man and an honorable gentleman," said the
+detective, emphatically. "I've got a dear little wife of my own, and
+she's something like this poor Miss Norman. Then again, though you
+mightn't think so, I'm something of a Christian, and believe we should
+help others. I had a hard life, Mr. Beecot, before I became a detective,
+and many a time have I learned that prayers can be answered. But this is
+all beside the question," went on Hurd quickly, and with that nervous
+shame with which an Englishman masks the better part of himself. "I'll
+see about the story for you. Meanwhile, I am going to a card-party to
+meet, incidentally, Mr. Grexon Hay."
+
+"Ah! You still suspect him?"
+
+"I do, and with good reason. He's got another mug in tow. Lord George
+Sandal, the son of Lord--well I needn't mention names, but Hay's trying
+to clear the young ass out, and I'm on the watch. Hay will never know me
+as the Count de la Tour. Not he, smart as he is. I'm fly!"
+
+"Do you speak French well?"
+
+"Moderately. But I play a silent part and say little. I shut my mouth
+and open my eyes. But what I came here to say is, that I intend to find
+out the assassin of Aaron Norman."
+
+"I can't offer you a reward, Hurd," said Paul, with a sigh.
+
+"Oh, that's all right. The widow, by the advice of Pash, has doubled the
+reward. One thousand pounds it is now--worth winning, eh?"
+
+"Humph!" said Paul, moodily, "I shouldn't think she loved her husband so
+much as that."
+
+Hurd's brown eyes shot a red flame which showed that he was excited,
+though he was cool enough externally. "Yes," he admitted in a careless
+manner, "she certainly does act the weeping widow in rather an
+exaggerated fashion. However, she's got the cash now--or at least her
+daughter has, which is the same thing. The two have taken up their
+quarters in a fashionable hotel in the West End, and are looking for a
+house. The old woman manages everything, and she will be one too many
+for Mr. Hay."
+
+"What? Does he know Mrs. Krill? He said he didn't."
+
+"Quite right. He didn't when the ladies went first to Pash's office. But
+Hay, on the look-out for a rich wife, got Pash to introduce him to the
+ladies, who were charmed with him. He's making up to the daughter, even
+in the few weeks that have elapsed, and now is assisting them to find a
+house. The daughter loves him I fancy, but whether the mother will
+allow the marriage to take place I can't say."
+
+"Surely not on such a short acquaintance."
+
+Hurd bent forward as about to say something, then changed his mind.
+"Really, I don't know--Hay is fascinating and handsome. Have you been to
+see him yet?"
+
+"No. He asked me, but all these troubles have put him out of my head.
+Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because next time he invites you, go."
+
+"You warned me against him."
+
+"And I warn you again," said the detective, dryly. "Don't ask me to
+explain, for I can't. But you go to see Hay when he invites you, and
+make yourself agreeable, especially to Mrs. Krill."
+
+"Am I likely to meet her?" asked Paul, with repugnance.
+
+"Yes, I fancy so. After all, you are engaged to the daughter of the dead
+man, and Mrs. Krill--I don't count Maud, who is a tool--is a deucedly
+clever woman. She will keep her eye on you and Miss Norman."
+
+"Why? She has the money and need take no further notice."
+
+Hurd closed one eye in a suggestive manner. "Mrs. Krill may not be so
+sure of the money, even though possession is nine points of the law. You
+remember that scrap of paper found by the maid?"
+
+"In which Norman warned Sylvia against allowing his real name to become
+known? Yes."
+
+"Well, the letter wasn't finished. The old man was interrupted, I
+suppose. But in the few lines of writing Norman says," here Hurd took a
+scrap of paper--a copy--out of his book and read, "'If the name of Krill
+gets into the papers there will be great trouble. Keep it from the
+public, I can tell you where to find the reasons for this as I have
+written'--and then," said Hurd, refolding the paper, "the writing ends.
+But you can see that Aaron Norman wrote out an account of his reasons,
+which could not be pleasant for Mrs. Krill to hear."
+
+"I still don't understand," said Paul, hopelessly puzzled.
+
+"Well," said the detective, rising and putting on his smart hat, "it's
+rather a muddle, I confess. I have no reason to suspect Mrs. Krill--"
+
+"Good heavens, Hurd, you don't think she killed her husband?"
+
+"No. I said that I have no reason to suspect her. But I don't like the
+woman at all. Norman left his wife for some unpleasant reason, and that
+reason, as I verily believe, has something to do with his death. I don't
+say that Mrs. Krill killed him, but I do believe that she knows of
+circumstances which may lead to the detection of the criminal."
+
+"In that case she would save her thousand pounds."
+
+"That's just where it is. If she does know, why does she double the
+reward? A straightforward woman would speak out, but she's a crooked
+sort of creature; I shouldn't like to have her for my enemy."
+
+"It seems to me that you do suspect her," said Paul dryly, but puzzled.
+
+Hurd shrugged his shoulders. "No, but I'm in a fix, that's a truth,"
+said he, and sauntered towards the door. "I can't see my way. There's
+the clue of Mrs. Krill's past to be followed up, and the hint contained
+in this scrap of paper. The old man may have left a document behind
+likely to solve the whole business. He hints as much here."
+
+"True enough, but nothing was found."
+
+"Then again," went on Hurd, "the request for the jewels to be delivered
+to that sailor chap was in Norman's handwriting and signed with his
+name."
+
+"A forgery."
+
+"No. Pash, who knows his writing better than any other man, says the
+document is genuine. Now then, Mr. Beecot, what made Aaron Norman write
+and sign those lines giving up his property--or a part of it--just
+before his death?"
+
+"It may have been done in good faith."
+
+"No. If so, the messenger would not have cleared out when Pash started
+for Gwynne Street. That nautical gent knew what the lawyer would find at
+the house, and so made himself scarce after trying to get the jewels.
+This scrap of paper," Hurd touched his breast, "and that request for the
+jewels in Pash's possession. Those are my clues."
+
+"And the opal serpent?" asked Paul.
+
+Hurd shook his head gloomily. "It's connection with the matter is beyond
+me," he confessed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+MR. HAY'S LITTLE DINNER
+
+
+The detective was as good as his word. In a few days Paul was introduced
+to the editor of a weekly publication and obtained a commission for a
+story to be written in collaboration with Mr. Hurd. It seemed that the
+editor was an old acquaintance of Hurd's and had been extricated by him
+from some trouble connected with cards. The editor, to show his
+gratitude, and because that Hurd's experiences, thrown into the form of
+a story, could not fail to interest the public, was only too willing to
+make a liberal arrangement. Also Paul was permanently engaged to supply
+short stories, to read those that were submitted to the editor, and, in
+fact, he permanently became that gentleman's right hand. He was a kind,
+beery Bohemian of an editor, Scott by name, and took quite a fancy to
+Paul.
+
+"I'll give you three pounds a week," said Scott, beaming through his
+large spectacles and raking his long gray beard with tobacco-stained
+fingers, "you can live on that, and to earn it you can give me your
+opinion on the stories. Then between whiles you can talk to Hurd and
+write this yarn which I am sure will be interesting. Hurd has had some
+queer experiences."
+
+This was quite true. Hurd had ventured on strange waters, but the
+strangest he ever sailed on were those connected with the Gwynne Street
+case. These latter experiences he did not tell to Scott, who was
+incapable of holding his tongue, and secrecy, as the detective impressed
+on Paul, was absolutely necessary to the conduct of the case. "If we
+keep matters quiet," argued Hurd, "and let those concerned in the matter
+fancy the case has been dropped, we'll be able to throw them off their
+guard, and then they may betray themselves."
+
+"I wish you would say if you think there is one person or two," said
+Paul, irritably, for his nerves were wearing thin under the strain. "You
+first talk of the assassin and then of the assassins."
+
+"Well," drawled Hurd, smiling, "I'm in the dark, you see, and being only
+a flesh and blood human being, instead of a creation of one of you
+authors, I can only grope in the dark and look in every direction for
+the light. One person, two persons, three, even four may be engaged in
+this affair for all I know. Don't you be in a hurry, Mr. Beecot. I
+believe in that foreign chap's saying, 'Without haste without rest.'"
+
+"Goethe said that."
+
+"Then Goethe is a sensible man, and must have read his Bible. 'Make no
+haste in time of trouble,' says the Scriptures."
+
+"Very good," assented Beecot; "take your own time."
+
+"I intend to," said Hurd, coolly. "Bless you, slow and sure is my motto.
+There's no hurry. You are fixed up with enough to live on, and a
+prospect of making more. Your young lady is happy enough with that
+grenadier of a woman in spite of the humbleness of the home. Mrs. Krill
+and her daughter are enjoying the five thousand a year, and Mr. Grexon
+Hay is fleecing that young ass, Lord George Sandal, as easily as
+possible. I stand by and watch everything. When the time comes I'll
+pounce down on--"
+
+"Ah," said Paul, "that's the question. On whom?"
+
+"On one or two or a baker's dozen," rejoined Hurd, calmly. "My chickens
+ain't hatched yet, so I don't count 'em. By the way, is your old
+school-fellow as friendly as ever?"
+
+"Yes. Why, I can't understand; as he certainly will make no money out of
+me. He's giving a small dinner to-morrow night at his rooms and has
+asked me."
+
+"You go," said the detective, emphatically; "and don't let on you have
+anything to do with me."
+
+"See here, Hurd, I won't play the spy, if you mean that."
+
+"I don't mean anything of the sort," replied Hurd, earnestly, "but if
+you do chance to meet Mrs. Krill at this dinner, and if she does chance
+to drop a few words about her past, you might let me know."
+
+"Oh, I don't mind doing that," said Beecot, with relief. "I am as
+anxious to find out the truth about this murder as you are, if not more
+so. The truth, I take it, is to be found in Krill's past, before he took
+the name of Norman. Mrs. Krill will know of that past, and I'll try and
+learn all I can from her. But Hay has nothing to do with the crime, and
+I won't spy on him."
+
+"Very good. Do what you like. But as to Hay, having nothing to do with
+the matter, I still think Hay stole that opal brooch from you when you
+were knocked down."
+
+"In that case Hay must know who killed Norman," cried Paul, excited.
+
+"He just does," rejoined Hurd, calmly; "and now you can understand
+another reason why I take such an interest in that gentleman."
+
+"But you can't be certain?"
+
+"Quite so. I am in the dark, as I said before. But Hay is a dangerous
+man and would do anything to rake in the dollars. He has something to do
+with the disappearance of that brooch I am sure, and if so, he knows
+more than he says. Besides"--here Hurd hesitated--"No! I'll tell you
+that later."
+
+"Tell me what?"
+
+"Something about Hay that will astonish you and make you think he has
+something to do with the crime. Meanwhile, learn all you can from Mrs.
+Krill."
+
+"If I meet her," said Paul, with a shrug.
+
+Undoubtedly Hurd knew more than he was prepared to admit, and not even
+to Paul, staunch as he knew him to be, would he speak confidentially.
+When the time came the detective would speak out. At present he held his
+tongue and moved in clouds like a Homeric deity. But his eyes were on
+all those connected with the late Aaron Norman, indirectly or directly,
+although each and every one of them were unaware of the scrutiny.
+
+Paul had no scruples in learning all he could from Mrs. Krill. He did
+not think that she had killed her husband, and probably might be
+ignorant of the person or persons who had slain the poor wretch in so
+cruel a manner. But the motive of the crime was to be found in Norman's
+past, and Mrs. Krill knew all about this. Therefore, Paul was very
+pleased when he found that Mrs. Krill and her daughter were the guests
+at the little dinner.
+
+Hay's rooms were large and luxuriously furnished. In effect, he occupied
+a small flat in the house of an ex-butler, and had furnished the place
+himself in a Sybarite fashion. The ex-butler and his wife and servants
+looked after Hay, and in addition, that languid gentleman possessed a
+slim valet, with a sly face, who looked as though he knew more than was
+good for him. Indeed, the whole atmosphere of the rooms was shady and
+fast, and Paul, simple young fellow as he was, felt the bad influence
+the moment he stepped into the tiny drawing-room.
+
+This was furnished daintily and with great taste in color and
+furnishing. It was more like a woman's room, and Mr. Hay had spared no
+cost in making it pleasing to the eye and comfortable to the body. The
+prevailing tone was pale yellow, and the electric light suffused itself
+through lemon-shaded globes. The Louis Quinze furniture was upholstered
+in primrose, and there were many Persian praying mats and Eastern
+draperies about the place. Water-color pictures decked the walls, and
+numerous mirrors reflected the dainty, pretty apartment. A brisk fire
+was burning, although the evening was not cold, and everything looked
+delightfully pleasant. Paul could not help contrasting all this luxury
+and taste with his bare garret. But with Sylvia's love to warm his
+heart, he would not have changed places with Grexon Hay for all his
+splendor.
+
+Two ladies were seated by the fire. Mrs. Krill in black, majestic and
+calm as usual. She wore diamonds on her breast and jewelled stars in her
+gray hair. Although not young, she was a wonderfully well-preserved
+woman, and her arms and neck were white, gleaming and beautifully
+shaped. From the top of her head to the sole of her rather large but
+well-shod foot, she was dressed to perfection, and waved a languid fan
+as she welcomed Paul, who was presented to her by the host. "I am glad
+to see you, Mr. Beecot," she said in her deep voice; "we had rather an
+unhappy interview when last we met. How is Miss Norman?"
+
+"She is quite well," replied Paul, in as cordial a tone as he could
+command. For the sake of learning what he could, he wished to be
+amiable, but it was difficult when he reflected that this large, suave,
+smiling woman had robbed Sylvia of a fortune and had spoken of her in a
+contemptuous way. But Beecot, swallowing down his pride, held his little
+candle to the devil without revealing his repugnance too openly. And
+apparently Mrs. Krill believed that his composure was genuine enough,
+for she was quite at her ease in his presence.
+
+The daughter was dressed like the mother, save that she wore pearls in
+place of diamonds. She talked but little, as usual, and sat smiling, the
+young image of the older woman. Hay also introduced Paul to a handsome
+young fellow of twenty-one with rather a feeble face. This was Lord
+George Sandal, the pigeon Hay was plucking, and although he had charming
+manners and an assumption of worldly wisdom, he was evidently one of
+those who had come into the world saddled and bridled for other folk's
+riding.
+
+A third lady was also present, who called herself Aurora Qian, and Hay
+informed his friend in a whisper that she was an actress. Paul then
+remembered that he had seen her name in the papers as famous in light
+comedy. She was pretty and kittenish, with fluffy hair and an eternal
+smile. It was impossible to imagine a greater contrast to the massive
+firmness of Mrs. Krill than the lively, girlish demeanor of the little
+woman, yet Paul had an instinct that Miss Qian, in spite of her
+profession and odd name and childish giggle, was a more shrewd person
+than she looked. Everyone was bright and merry and chatty: all save Maud
+Krill who smiled and fanned herself in a statuesque way. Hay paid her
+great attention, and Paul knew very well that he intended to marry the
+silent woman for her money. It would be hardly earned he thought, with
+such a firm-looking mother-in-law as Mrs. Krill would certainly prove to
+be.
+
+The dinner was delightful, well cooked, daintily served, and leisurely
+eaten. A red-shaded lamp threw a rosy light on the white cloth, the
+glittering crystal and bright silver. The number of diners was less than
+the Muses, and more than the Graces, and everyone laid himself or
+herself out to make things bright. And again Maud Krill may be
+mentioned as an exception. She ate well and held her tongue, merely
+smiling heavily when addressed. Paul, glancing at her serene face across
+the rosy-hued table, wondered if she really was as calm as she looked,
+and if she really lacked the brain power her mother seemed to possess.
+
+"I am glad to see you here, Beecot," said Hay, smiling.
+
+"I am very glad to be here," said Paul, adapting himself to
+circumstances, "especially in such pleasant company."
+
+"You don't go out much," said Lord George.
+
+"No, I am a poor author who has yet to win his spurs."
+
+"I thought of being an author myself," said the young man, "but it was
+such a fag to think about things."
+
+"You want your material supplied to you perhaps," put in Mrs. Krill in a
+calm, contemptuous way.
+
+"Oh, no! If I wrote stories like the author johnnies I'd rake up my
+family history. There's lots of fun there."
+
+"Your family mightn't like it," giggled Miss Qian. "I know lots of
+things about my own people which would read delightfully if Mr. Beecot
+set them down, but then--" she shrugged her dainty shoulders, "oh, dear
+me, what a row there would be!"
+
+"I suppose there is a skeleton in every cupboard," said Hay, suavely,
+and quite ignoring the shady tenant in his own.
+
+"There's a whole dozen cupboards with skeletons to match in my family,"
+said the young lord. "Why, I had an aunt, Lady Rachel Sandal, who was
+murdered over twenty years ago. Now," he said, looking triumphantly
+round the table, "which of you can say there's a murder in your
+family--eh, ladies and gentlemen?"
+
+Paul glanced sideways at Mrs. Krill, wondering what she would say, and
+wondering also how it was that Lord George did not know she was the
+widow of the murdered Lemuel Krill, whose name had been so widely
+advertised. But Hay spoke before anyone could make a remark. "What an
+unpleasant subject," he said, with a pretended shudder, "let us talk of
+less melodramatic things."
+
+"Oh, why," said Mrs. Krill, using her fan. "I rather like to hear about
+murders."
+
+Lord George looked oddly at her, and seemed about to speak. Paul thought
+for the moment that he did know about the Gwynne Street crime and
+intended to remark thereon. But if so his good taste told him that he
+would be ill-advised to speak and he turned to ask for another glass of
+wine. Miss Aurora Qian looked in her pretty shrewd way from one to the
+other. "I just love the Newgate Calendar," she said, clasping her hands.
+"There's lovely plots for dramas to be found there. Don't you think so,
+Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I don't read that sort of literature, Miss Qian."
+
+"Ah, then you don't know what people are capable of in the way of
+cruelty, Mr. Beecot."
+
+"I don't want to know," retorted Paul, finding the subject distasteful
+and wondering why the actress pressed it, as she undoubtedly did. "I
+prefer to write stories to elevate the mind."
+
+Miss Qian made a grimace and shot a meaning look at him. "It doesn't
+pay," she said, tittering, "and money is what we all want."
+
+"I fear I don't care for money overmuch."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Krill to him in an undertone, "I know that from the way
+you spoke in Mr. Pash's office."
+
+"I was standing up for the rights of another."
+
+"You will be rewarded," she replied meaningly, but what she did mean
+Paul could not understand.
+
+The rest of the dinner passed off well enough, as the subject was
+changed. Lord George began to talk of racing, and Hay responded. Mrs.
+Krill alone seemed shocked. "I don't believe in gambling," she said
+icily.
+
+"I hope you are not very down on it," said Hay. "Lord George and I
+propose to play bridge with you ladies in the next room."
+
+"Maud can play and Miss Qian," said the widow. "I'll talk to Mr. Beecot,
+unless he prefers the fascination of the green cloth."
+
+"I would rather talk to you," replied Paul, bowing.
+
+Mrs. Krill nodded, and then went out of the room with the younger
+ladies. The three gentlemen filled their glasses with port, and Hay
+passed round a box of cigars. Soon they were smoking and chatting, in a
+most amicable fashion. Lord George talked a great deal about racing and
+cards, and his bad luck with both. Hay said very little and every now
+and then cast a glance at Paul, to see how he was taking the
+conversation. At length, when Sandal became a trifle vehement on the
+subject of his losses, Hay abruptly changed the subject, by refilling
+his glass and those of his companions. "I want you to drink to the
+health of my future bride," he said.
+
+"What," cried Paul, staring, "Miss Krill?"
+
+"The same," responded Hay, coldly. "You see I have taken your advice and
+intend to settle. Pash presented me to the ladies when next they came to
+his office, and since then I have been almost constantly with them. Miss
+Krill's affections were disengaged, and she, therefore, with her
+mother's consent, became my promised wife."
+
+"I wish you joy," said Lord George, draining his glass and filling
+another, "and, by Jove! for your sake, I hope she's got money."
+
+"Oh, yes, she's well off," said Hay, calmly, "and you, Paul?"
+
+"I congratulate you, of course," stammered Beecot, dazed; "but it's so
+sudden. You haven't known her above a month."
+
+"Five weeks or so," said Hay, smiling, and sinking his voice lower, he
+added, "I can't afford to let grass grow under my feet. This young ass
+here might snap her up, and Mrs. Krill would only be too glad to secure
+a title for Maud."
+
+"I say," said Lord George suddenly, and waking from a brown study, "who
+is Mrs. Krill? I've heard the name."
+
+"It's not an uncommon name," said Hay, untruthfully and quickly. "She is
+a rich widow who has lately come to London."
+
+"Where did she come from?"
+
+"I can't tell you that. From the wilds of Yorkshire I believe. You had
+better ask her."
+
+"Oh, by Jove, no, I wouldn't be so rude. But I seem to know the name."
+Paul privately thought that if he read the papers, he ought certainly to
+know the name, and he was on the point of making, perhaps an injudicious
+remark, but Hay pointedly looked at him in such a meaning way, that he
+held his tongue. More, when they left their wine for the society of the
+ladies, Hay squeezed his friend's arm in the passage.
+
+"Don't mention the death," he said, using a politer word by preference.
+"Sandal doesn't connect Mrs. Krill with the dead man. She wants to live
+the matter down."
+
+"In that case she ought to leave London for a time."
+
+"She intends to. When I make Maud my wife, we will travel with her
+mother for a year or two, until the scandal of the murder blows over.
+Luckily the name of Lemuel Krill was not mentioned often in the papers,
+and Sandal hasn't seen a hand-bill that I know of. I suppose you agree
+with me that silence is judicious?"
+
+"Yes," assented Paul, "I think it is."
+
+"And you congratulate me on my approaching marriage?"
+
+"Certainly. Now, perhaps, you will live like Falstaff when he was made a
+knight."
+
+Hay did not understand the allusion and looked puzzled. However, he had
+no time to say more, as they entered the drawing-room. Almost as soon as
+they did, Mrs. Krill summoned Paul to her side.
+
+"And now," she said, "let us talk of Miss Norman."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A NEW CLUE
+
+
+"I don't wish to talk of Miss Norman," said Paul, bluntly.
+
+"Then you can be no true lover," retorted the widow.
+
+"I disagree with you. A true lover does not talk to all and sundry
+concerning the most sacred feelings of his heart. Moreover, your remarks
+at our last meeting were not to my taste."
+
+"I apologize," said Mrs. Krill, promptly, "and will not offend in that
+way again. I did not know you then, but since Mr. Hay has spoken about
+you to me, I know and appreciate you, Mr. Beecot."
+
+But Paul was not to be cajoled in this manner. The more suave the woman
+was, the more he felt inclined to be on his guard, and he very wisely
+obeyed the prompting of his instinct. "I fear you do _not_ know me, Mrs.
+Krill," said he as coldly as Hay could have spoken, "else you would
+hardly ask me to discuss with you, of all people, the lady whom I intend
+to make my wife."
+
+"You are rather a difficult man to deal with," she replied, drawing her
+thick white eyebrows together. "But I like difficult men. That is why I
+admire Mr. Hay: he is not a silly, useless butterfly like that young
+lord there."
+
+"Silly he is not, but I doubt his being useful. So far as I can see Hay
+looks after himself and nobody else."
+
+"He proposes to look after my daughter."
+
+"So I understand," replied Beecot, politely, "but that is a matter
+entirely for your own consideration."
+
+Mrs. Krill still continued to smile in her placid way, but she was
+rather nonplussed all the same. From the appearance of Beecot, she had
+argued that he was one of those many men she could twist round her
+finger. But he seemed to be less easily guided than she expected, and
+for the moment she was silent, letting her hard eyes wander towards the
+card-table, round which sat the four playing an eager and engrossing
+game of bridge. "You don't approve of that perhaps?"
+
+"No," said Paul, calmly, "I certainly do not."
+
+"Are you a Puritan may I ask?"
+
+Beecot shook his head and laughed. "I am a simple man, who tries to do
+his duty in this world," said he, "and who very often finds it difficult
+to do that same duty."
+
+"How do you define duty, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"We are becoming ethical," said Paul, with a smile. "I don't know that I
+am prepared with an answer at present."
+
+"Then the next time we meet. For I hope," said Mrs. Krill, smoothing her
+face to a smile--it had grown rather sombre--"that we shall often meet
+again. You must come and see us. We have taken a house in Kensington."
+
+"Chosen by Mr. Hay?"
+
+"Yes! He is our mentor in London Society. I don't think," added Mrs.
+Krill, studying his face, "that you like Mr. Hay."
+
+"As I am Mr. Hay's guest," said Paul, dryly, "that is rather an unkind
+question to ask."
+
+"I asked no question. I simply make a statement."
+
+Beecot found the conversation rather embarrassing. In place of his
+pumping Mrs. Krill, she was trying to pump him, which reversal of his
+design he by no means approved of. He changed the subject of
+conversation by drawing a powerfully attractive red herring across the
+trail. "You wish to speak to me about Miss Norman," he remarked.
+
+"I do," answered Mrs. Krill, who saw through his design, "but apparently
+that subject is as distasteful as a discussion about Mr. Hay."
+
+"Both subjects are rather personal, I admit, Mrs. Krill. However, if you
+have anything to tell me, which you would like Miss Norman to hear, I am
+willing to listen."
+
+"Ah! Now you are more reasonable," she answered in a pleased tone. "It
+is simply this, Mr. Beecot: I am very sorry for the girl. Through no
+fault of her own, she is placed in a difficult position. I cannot give
+her a name, since her father sinned against her as he sinned in another
+way against me, but I can--through my daughter, who is guided by
+me--give her an income. It does not seem right that I should have all
+this money--"
+
+"That your daughter should have all this money," interpolated Beecot.
+
+"My daughter and I are one," replied Mrs. Krill, calmly; "when I speak
+for myself, I speak for her. But, as I say, it doesn't seem right we
+should be in affluence and Miss Norman in poverty. So I propose to allow
+her five hundred a year--on conditions. Will she accept, do you think,
+Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I should think her acceptance would depend upon the conditions."
+
+"They are very simple," said Mrs. Krill in her deep tones, and looking
+very straightly at Paul. "She is to marry you and go to America."
+
+Beecot's face did not change, since her hard eyes were on it. But he was
+puzzled under his mask of indifference. Why did this woman want Sylvia
+to marry him, and go into exile? He temporized. "With regard to your
+wish that Miss Norman should marry me," said he, quietly, "it is of
+course very good of you to interest yourself in the matter. I fail to
+understand your reason, however."
+
+"Yet the reason is patent," rejoined Mrs. Krill, just as quietly and
+quite as watchful as before. "Sylvia Norman is a young girl without much
+character----"
+
+"In that I disagree with you."
+
+"Well, let us admit she has character, but she certainly has no
+experience. In the world, she is exposed to much trouble and, perhaps,
+may be, to temptation. Since her position is the fault of her father,
+and she is entirely innocent, I want her to have a happy life. For that
+reason I wish her to marry you."
+
+Paul bowed, not believing a word of this philanthropic speech. "Again, I
+say it is good of you," said he with some irony; "but even were I out of
+the way, her nurse, Deborah Tawsey, would look after her. As matters
+stand, however, she will certainly become my wife as soon as we can
+afford a home."
+
+"You can afford it to-morrow," said Mrs. Krill, eagerly, "if you will
+accept my offer."
+
+"A home in America," said Paul, "and why?"
+
+"I should think both of you would like to be away from a place where you
+have seen such a tragedy."
+
+"Indeed." Paul committed himself to no opinion. "And, supposing we
+accept your offer, which I admit is a generous one, you suggest we
+should go to the States."
+
+"Or to Canada, or Australia, or--in fact--you can go anywhere, so long
+as you leave England. I tell you, Mr. Beecot, even at the risk of
+hurting your feelings, that I want that girl away from London. My
+husband treated me very badly--he was a brute always--and I hate to
+have that girl before my eyes."
+
+"Yet she is innocent."
+
+"Have I not said that a dozen times," rejoined Mrs. Krill, impatiently.
+"What is the use of further discussion. Do you accept my offer?"
+
+"I will convey it to Miss Norman. It is for her to decide."
+
+"But you have the right since you are to be her husband."
+
+"Pardon me, no. I would never take such a responsibility on me. I shall
+tell Miss Norman what you say, and convey her answer to you."
+
+"Thank you," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. But she was annoyed that her
+golden bait had not been taken immediately, and, in spite of her
+suavity, Paul could see that she was annoyed, the more so when she began
+to explain. "Of course you understand my feelings."
+
+"I confess I don't quite. Naturally, the fact that you are connected
+with the murder in the public eyes--"
+
+"Pardon me," said the woman, swiftly, "but I am not. The name of Krill
+has hardly been noticed. The public know that Aaron Norman was murdered.
+No one talks of Lemuel Krill, or thinks that I am the widow of the
+murdered man. Possibly I may come across some people who will connect
+the two names, and look askance at me, but the majority of people--such
+as Lord George there," she pointed with her fan, "do not think of me in
+the way you say. As he did, they will think they remember the name--"
+
+"Lord George did not say that to you," said Paul, swiftly.
+
+"No. But he did to Mr. Hay, who told me," rejoined Mrs. Krill, quite as
+swiftly.
+
+"To-night?" asked Beecot, remembering that Hay had not spoken privately
+to Mrs. Krill since they came in from the dining-room.
+
+"Oh, no--on another occasion. Lord George has several times said that he
+has a faint recollection of my name. Possibly the connection between me
+and the murder may occur to his mind, but he is really so very stupid
+that I hope he will forget all about the matter."
+
+"I wonder you don't change your name," said Paul, looking at her.
+
+"Certainly not, unless public opinion forces me to change it," she said
+defiantly. "My life has always been perfectly open and above board, not
+like that of my husband."
+
+"Why did he change his name?" asked Beecot, eagerly--too eagerly, in
+fact, for she drew back.
+
+"Why do you ask?" she inquired coldly.
+
+Paul shrugged his shoulders. "An idle question, Mrs. Krill. I have no
+wish to force your confidence."
+
+"There is no forcing in the matter," responded the woman. "I have taken
+quite a fancy to you, Mr. Beecot, and you shall know what I do."
+
+"Pray do not tell me if you would rather not."
+
+"But I would rather," said Mrs. Krill, bluntly; "it will prevent your
+misconception of anything you may hear about us. My husband's real name
+was Lemuel Krill, and he married me thirty years ago. I will be frank
+with you and admit that neither of us were gentlefolks. We kept a
+public-house on the outskirts of Christchurch in Hants, called 'The Red
+Pig.'" She looked anxiously at him as she spoke.
+
+"A strange name."
+
+"Have you never heard of it before?"
+
+"No. Had I heard the name it would have remained in my memory, from its
+oddity."
+
+Paul might have been mistaken, but Mrs. Krill certainly seemed relieved.
+Yet if she had anything to conceal in connection with "The Red Pig,"
+why should she have mentioned the name.
+
+"It is not a first-class hotel," she went on smoothly, and again with
+her false smile. "We had only farm laborers and such like as customers.
+But the custom was good, and we did very well. Then my husband took to
+drink."
+
+"In that respect he must have changed," said Paul, quickly, "for all the
+time I knew him--six months it was--I never saw him the worse for drink,
+and I certainly never heard from those who would be likely to know that
+he indulged in alcohol to excess. All the same," added Paul, with an
+after-thought of his conversation with Sylvia in the Embankment garden,
+"I fancied, from his pale face and shaking hands, and a tightness of the
+skin, that he might drink."
+
+"Exactly. He did. He drank brandy in large quantities, and, strange to
+say, he never got drunk."
+
+"What do you mean exactly?" asked Beecot, curiously.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Krill, biting the top of her fan and looking over it,
+"Lemuel--I'll call him by the old name--never grew red in the face, and
+even after years of drinking he never showed any signs of intemperance.
+Certainly his hands would shake at times, but I never noticed
+particularly the tightness of the skin you talk of."
+
+"A certain shiny look," explained Paul.
+
+"Quite so. I never noticed it. But he never got drunk so as to lose his
+head or his balance," went on Mrs. Krill; "but he became a demon."
+
+"A demon?"
+
+"Yes," said the woman, emphatically, "as a rule he was a timid, nervous,
+little man, like a frightened rabbit, and would not harm a fly. But
+drink, as you know, changes a nature to the contrary of what it actually
+is."
+
+"I have heard that."
+
+"You would have seen an example in Lemuel," she retorted. "When he drank
+brandy, he became a king, a sultan. From being timid he became bold;
+from not harming anyone he was capable of murder. Often in his fits did
+he lay violent hands on me. But I managed to escape. When sober, he
+would moan and apologize in a provokingly tearful manner. I hated and
+despised him," she went on, with flashing eyes, but careful to keep her
+voice from reaching the gamblers. "I was a fool to marry him. My father
+was a farmer, and I had a good education. I was attracted by the good
+looks of Lemuel, and ran away with him from my father's farm in
+Buckinghamshire."
+
+"That's where Stowley is," murmured Paul.
+
+"Stowley?" echoed Mrs. Krill, whose ears were very sharp. "Yes, I know
+that town. Why do you mention it?"
+
+"The opal serpent brooch with which your husband's lips were fastened
+was pawned there."
+
+"I remember," said Mrs. Krill, calmly. "Mr. Pash told me. It has never
+been found out how the brooch came to fasten the lips--so horrible it
+was," she shuddered.
+
+"No. My father bought the brooch from the Stowley pawnbroker, and gave
+it to my mother, who sent it to me. When I had an accident, I lost it,
+but who picked it up I can't say."
+
+"The assassin must have picked it up," declared Mrs. Krill, decisively,
+"else it would not have been used in that cruel way; though why such a
+brooch should have been used at all I can't understand. I suppose my
+husband did not tell you why he wanted to buy the brooch?"
+
+"Who told you that he did?" asked Paul, quickly.
+
+"Mr. Pash. He told me all about the matter, but not the reason why my
+husband wanted the brooch."
+
+"Pash doesn't know," said Beecot, "nor do I. Your husband fainted when
+I first showed him the brooch, but I don't know why. He said nothing."
+
+Again Mrs. Krill's face in spite of her care showed a sense of relief at
+his ignorance. "But I must get back to my story," she said, in a hard
+tone, "we have to leave soon. I ran away with Lemuel who was then
+travelling with jewellery. He knew a good deal about jewellery, you
+know, which he turned to account in his pawnbroking."
+
+"Yes, and amassed a fortune, thereby."
+
+"I should never have credited him with so much sense," said Mrs. Krill,
+contemptuously. "While at Christchurch he was nothing but a drunkard,
+whining when sober, and a furious beast when drunk. I managed all the
+house, and looked after my little daughter. Lemuel led me a dog's life,
+and we quarrelled incessantly. At length, when Maud was old enough to be
+my companion, Lemuel ran away. I kept on 'The Red Pig,' and waited for
+him to return. But he never came back, and for over twenty years I heard
+nothing of him till I saw the hand-bills and his portrait, and heard of
+his death. Then I came to see Mr. Pash, and the rest you know."
+
+"But why did he run away?" asked Paul.
+
+"I suppose he grew weary of the life and the way I detested him," was
+her reply. "I don't wonder he ran away. But there, I have told you all,
+so make what you can of it. Tell Miss Norman of my offer, and make her
+see the wisdom of accepting it. And now"--she rose, and held out her
+hand--"I must run away. You will call and see us? Mr. Hay will give you
+the address."
+
+"What's that," said Hay, leaving the card-table, "does Beecot want your
+address? Certainly." He went to a table and scribbled on a card. "There
+you are. Hunter Street, Kensington, No. 32A. Do come, Beecot. I hope
+soon to call on your services to be my best man," and he cast a coldly
+loving look on Maud, who simply smiled as usual.
+
+By this time the card-party had broken up. Maud had lost a few pounds,
+and Lord George a great deal. But Miss Qian and Hay had won.
+
+"What luck," groaned the young lord. "Everything seems to go wrong with
+me."
+
+"Stop and we'll try another game when the ladies have gone," suggested
+Hay, his impassive face lighting up, "then Beecot--"
+
+"I must go," said the young gentleman, who did not wish to be called
+upon as a witness in a possible card scandal.
+
+"And I'll go too," said Lord George. "Whenever I play with you, Hay, I
+always seem to lose."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked Grexon, fiercely.
+
+"Oh, he doesn't mean anything," said Miss Qian, sweetly, and putting her
+cloak round her. "Mr. Beecot, just take me to my cab."
+
+"I'll take you to your carriage," said Hay, offering an arm to Mrs.
+Krill, which she accepted graciously.
+
+Lord George followed, grumbling, with the ever-smiling Maud. Miss Qian
+skipped into a hansom, and offered Paul a drive back to town which he
+refused. As the cab was driving off she bent down and whispered, "Be
+careful," with a side-glance at Hay.
+
+Paul laughed. Everyone seemed to doubt Hay. But that gentleman handed
+Mrs. Krill and her daughter into their carriage, and looked towards Lord
+George. "You don't want your revenge to-night?" he asked.
+
+"No, confound you!" said the young man, sulkily.
+
+"In that case I'll drive into Kensington with Mrs. Krill, and borrow her
+carriage for a trip to Piccadilly. Good-night, Sandal. Good-night,
+Beecot."
+
+He waved his hand, and the ladies waved theirs, and then the three drove
+away. Lord George lighted a cigar, and putting his arm within that of
+Beecot, strolled down the road. "Come to my club," he said.
+
+"No, thank you," answered Paul, politely, "I must get home."
+
+"But I wish you'd come. I hate being by myself and you seem such a good
+sort of chap."
+
+"Well," said Beecot, thinking he might say a word in season to this
+young fool, "I don't gamble."
+
+"Oh, you cry down that, do you?"
+
+"Well, I think it's foolish."
+
+"It is," assented Lord George, frankly, "infernally foolish. And Hay has
+all the luck. I wonder if he plays square."
+
+This was dangerous ground, and Paul shied. "I really can't say," he said
+coldly, "I don't play cards."
+
+"But what do you know of Hay?" asked Sandal.
+
+"Only that he was at school with me at Torrington. We met by accident
+the other day, and he asked me to dinner."
+
+"Torrington. Yes. I had a brother at that school once," said Lord
+George, "but you and Hay wouldn't get on well together, I should think.
+You're straight, and he's--"
+
+"You forget, we have been dining with him," said Paul, quickly.
+
+"What of that. I've dined often and have paid pretty dearly for the
+privilege. I must have lost at least five thousand to him within the
+last few months."
+
+"In that case I should advise you to play cards no more. The remedy is
+easy," said Paul, dryly.
+
+"It isn't so easy to leave off cards," rejoined Sandal, gloomily. "I'm
+that fond of gambling that I only seem to live when I've got the cards
+or dice in my hand. I suppose it's like dram-drinking."
+
+"If you take my advice, Lord George, you'll give up card-playing."
+
+"With Hay, do you mean?" asked the other, shrewdly.
+
+"With anyone. I know nothing about Hay beyond what I have told you."
+
+"Humph," said Sandal, "I don't think you're a chap like him at all. I
+may look a fool, but I ain't, and can see through a brick wall same as
+most Johnnies."
+
+"Who can't see at all," interpolated Paul, dryly.
+
+"Ha! ha! that's good. But I say about this Hay. What a queer lot he had
+there to-night."
+
+"I can't discuss that," said Paul, stiffly. He was not one to eat a
+man's bread and salt and then betray him.
+
+Sandal went on as though he hadn't heard him. "That actress is a jolly
+little woman," said he. "I've seen her at the Frivolity--a ripping fine
+singer and dancer she is. But those other ladies?"
+
+"Mrs. and Miss Krill."
+
+The young lord stopped short in the High Street. "Where have I heard
+that name?" he said, looking up to the stars; "somewhere--in the country
+maybe. I go down sometimes to the Hall--my father's place. I don't
+suppose you'd know it. It's three miles from Christchurch."
+
+"In Hants," said Paul, feeling he was on the verge of a discovery.
+
+"Yes. Have you been there?"
+
+"No. But I have heard of the place. There's an hotel there called 'The
+Red Pig,' which I thought--"
+
+"Ha!" cried young Sandal, stopping again, and with such a shout that
+passers-by thought he was drunk. "I remember the name. 'The Red Pig'; a
+woman called Krill kept that."
+
+"She can hardly be the same," said Paul, not wishing to betray the lady.
+
+"No. I guess not. She'd hardly have the cheek to sit down with me if she
+did. But Krill. Yes, I remember--my aunt, you know."
+
+"Your aunt?"
+
+"Yes," said Sandal, impatiently, "she was murdered, or committed suicide
+in that 'Red Pig' place. Rachel Sandal--with her unlucky opals."
+
+"Her unlucky opals! What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, she had a serpent set with opals she wore as a brooch, and it
+brought her bad luck."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Sylvia's theory
+
+
+It was close upon midnight when Paul reached his garret. Sandal drove
+him in a hansom as far as Piccadilly Circus, and from that place Beecot
+walked through Oxford Street to Bloomsbury. He had not been able to
+extract further information of any importance from the young lord. It
+appeared that Lady Rachel Sandal, in love with an inferior, had
+quarrelled with her father, and had walked to Christchurch one night
+with the intention of joining the man she wished to marry in London. But
+the night was stormy and Lady Rachel was a frail woman. She took refuge
+in "The Red Pig," intending to go the next morning. But during the night
+she was found strangled in the bedroom she had hired. Sandal could give
+no details, as the events happened before he was born, and he had only
+heard scraps of the dreadful story.
+
+"Some people say Lady Rachel was murdered," explained Sandal, "and
+others that she killed herself. But the opal brooch, which she wore,
+certainly disappeared. But there was such a scandal over the affair that
+my grandfather hushed it up. I can't say exactly what took place. But I
+know it happened at a small pub kept by a woman called Krill. Do you
+think this woman is the same?"
+
+"It's hardly likely," said Paul, mendaciously. "How could a woman who
+kept a small public house become suddenly rich?"
+
+"True," answered Lord George, as they stopped in the Circus, "and she'd
+have let on she knew about my name had she anything to do with the
+matter. All the same, I'll ask her."
+
+"Do so," said Paul, stepping out of the cab. He was perfectly satisfied
+that Mrs. Krill was quite equal to deceiving Sandal. The wonder was,
+that she had not held her peace to him about "The Red Pig."
+
+"You won't come on to my club?" asked Sandal, leaning out of the cab.
+
+"No, thank you," replied Paul. "Good-night," and he walked away.
+
+The fact is Beecot wished to put on paper all that he had heard that
+night and send it to Hurd. As soon as he reached his attic he set to
+work and wrote out a detailed account of the evening.
+
+     "You might find out if Lady Rachel committed suicide or whether she
+     was strangled by someone else," ended Beecot. "Certainly the
+     mention of the serpent brooch is curious. This may be the event in
+     Norman's past life which led him to change his name."
+
+Paul wrote much more and then went out to post the letter. It was after
+midnight when he did, so there was not much chance of Hurd getting the
+letter before the second or third post the next day. But Paul felt that
+he had done his duty, and had supplied the information as speedily as
+possible, so he went to sleep with a quiet mind, in spite of the
+excitement of the evening. But next morning he was unable to sit down to
+his desk as usual, and felt disinclined to go to the newspaper office,
+so he walked to Jubileetown to see how Sylvia was getting along. Deborah
+met him at the gate.
+
+"Well I never, Mr. Beecot," said Mrs. Tawsey, with her red arms akimbo
+in her usual attitude; "this is a sight for sore eyes. Won't my pretty
+be 'appy this day, say what you may. She's a-makin' out bills fur them
+as 'ad washin' done, bless her 'eart for a clever beauty."
+
+"How is business?" asked Paul, entering the gate, which Deborah opened.
+
+"Bless you, Mr. Beecot, I'll be a lady of forting soon," answered the
+proprietress of the laundry, "the way washing 'ave come in is jest
+amazin'. One 'ud think folk never 'ad no linen done up afore, and that
+they never did 'ave," said Deborah, rubbing her nose hard, "in my way,
+which _is_ a way. If you'd only send along your shirts, Mr. Beecot, I'd
+be proud to show you what can be done with fronts, an' no thumbnails
+down them to spile their loveliness."
+
+Paul did not reply to this, but laughed absently. He was wondering if
+Deborah had ever heard her master drop any hint as to his having come
+from the place where Mrs. Krill resided, and asked the question on the
+spur of the moment.
+
+"Do you know Christchurch in Hants?"
+
+Deborah rubbed her nose harder and looked at him doubtfully.
+
+"Me as said as I'd no relatives must tell the truth now, as I 'ave,"
+said she rather incoherently, "for my sister, Tilly Junk, worked for
+someone in that there place for years. But we never got on well, she
+being upsettin' and masterful, so arsk her to my weddin' I didn't, and
+denied relatives existing, which they do, she bein' alive ten years ago
+when she larst wrote."
+
+"You have not heard from her since?" asked Paul, inquisitively.
+
+"Sir, you may burn me or prison me or put me in pillaries," said Mrs.
+Tawsey, "but deceive you I won't. Me an' Tilly not bein' of 'appy
+matchin' don't correspond. We're Londing both," exclaimed Deborah,
+"father 'avin' bin a 'awker, but why she went to the country, or why I
+stopped in Gwynne Street, no one knows. And may I arsk, Mr. Beecot, why
+you arsk of that place?"
+
+"Your late master came from Christchurch, Mrs. Tawsey. Did you never
+hear him mention it?"
+
+"That I never did, for close he was, Mr. Beecot, say what you like. I
+never knowed but what he'd pawned and sold them bookses all his blessed
+life, for all the talkin' he did. If I'd ha' knowd," added Deborah,
+lifting her red finger, "as he'd bin maried afore and intended to cast
+out my lovely queen, I'd ha' strangled him myself."
+
+"He had no intention of casting out Sylvia," said Paul, musingly; "he
+certainly left the money to her."
+
+"Then why 'ave that other got it?"
+
+"Sylvia's name wasn't mentioned, and Miss Krill is legally entitled as
+the legitimate daughter."
+
+"Call her what you like, she's a cat as her mother is afore her," said
+Mrs. Tawsey, indignantly, "and not young at that. Thirty and over, as
+I'm a livin' woman."
+
+"Oh, I don't think Miss Krill is as old as that."
+
+"Being a man you wouldn't, sir, men bein' blind to wrinklings and paint.
+But paint she do, the hussey, and young she ain't. Over thirty--if I die
+for the sayin' of it."
+
+"But Mrs. Krill was married to your master only thirty years ago."
+
+"Then more shame to 'er," snapped Deborah, masterfully; "for she ain't
+an honest woman if the signs of age is believing. Will I write to my
+sister Tilly, as I don't love Mr. Beecot, and arsk if she knowed master
+when he wos in that there place, which she can't 'ave, seeing she's bin
+there but ten year, and he away twenty?"
+
+"No, Deborah, you'd better say nothing. The case is in Hurd's hands.
+I'll tell him what you say, and leave the matter to him. But you must be
+deceived about Miss Krill's age."
+
+"I've got two eyes an' a nose," retorted Mrs. Tawsey, "so don't talk of
+deceivin's. Thirty and more she is, the hussey, let her Jezebel of a mar
+lie as she like, an' can say what you will, Mr. Beecot. But there's my
+pretty smilin' from the winder and the tub's a-waitin'; so you go in and
+smooth 'er to affections, while I see that Mrs. Purr irons the shirts,
+which she do lovely there's no denyin'. Hoh!" and Deborah plunged round
+the corner of the house, rampant and full of corn.
+
+Paul walked through the newly-created garden, in which he saw many
+proofs of Sylvia's love for flowers, and reached the door in time to
+take the girl in his arms. She was flushed and joyful, and her eyes were
+as bright as stars. "Paul, darling," she said, as they entered the
+sitting-room, where she was struggling with the accounts, "I'm so glad
+you are here. What's nine times nine?"
+
+"Eighty-one," said Paul, looking at the long list of figures Sylvia had
+been trying to add up. "Why do you make your head ache with these
+accounts, darling?"
+
+"I must help Debby, Paul, and I get on very well with the aid of an
+arithmetic." And she pointed to a small school book which she had
+evidently been studying.
+
+"Let me take the burden from your shoulders," said her lover, smiling,
+and sat down at the table which was strewn with bills. In about an hour
+he had arranged all these, and had made them out neatly to Deborah's
+various customers. Then he directed the envelopes, and Sylvia sealed
+them up. All the time they laughed and chatted, and despite the dull
+toil thoroughly enjoyed themselves. "But I am glad to see, Sylvia," said
+Beecot, pointing to three library volumes lying on the sofa, "that you
+enjoy yourself occasionally."
+
+"Oh!" said Sylvia, pouncing on these, "I'm so glad you spoke, Paul; I
+wanted to say something to you. _The Confessions of a Thug_," she read
+out, and looked at Paul. "Have you read it?"
+
+Beecot nodded. "By Colonel Meadows Taylor. A very interesting book, but
+rather a bloodthirsty one for you, dearest."
+
+"Debby got it," confessed Miss Norman, "along with some other books from
+a literary customer who could not pay his bill. It is very strange,
+Paul, that _The Confessions of a Thug_ should be amongst the books."
+
+"Really I don't see why," smiled Beecot, fingering the old-fashioned
+volumes.
+
+"It's the finger of Fate, Paul," said Sylvia, solemnly. Then seeing her
+lover look puzzled, "I mean, that I should find out what goor is?"
+
+"Goor?" Paul looked more puzzled than ever.
+
+"It's an Indian word," explained Sylvia, "and means coarse sugar. The
+Thugs eat it before they strangle anyone."
+
+"Oh," laughed Beecot, "and you think your father was strangled by a
+Thug? My dear child, the Thugs were stamped out years ago. You'll read
+all about it in the preface of that book, if I remember. But it's long
+since I read the work. Besides, darling," he added, drawing her to him
+caressingly, "the Thugs never came to England."
+
+"Paul," said Sylvia, still more solemnly and resenting the laugh, "do
+you remember the Thug that came into the shop--"
+
+"Oh, you mean the street-hawker that Bart spoke of. Yes, I remember that
+such an Indian entered, according to Bart's tale, and wanted to sell
+boot-laces, while that young imp, Tray, was dancing on poor Bart's body.
+But the Indian wasn't a Thug, Sylvia."
+
+"Yes, he was," she exclaimed excitedly. "Hokar, he said he was, and
+Hokar was a Thug. Remember the handful of coarse brown sugar he left on
+the counter? Didn't Bart tell you of that?"
+
+Paul started. "Yes, by Jove! he did," was his reply.
+
+"Well, then," said Sylvia, triumphantly, "that sugar was goor, and the
+Thugs eat it before strangling anyone, and father was strangled."
+
+Beecot could not but be impressed. "It is certainly very strange," he
+said, looking at the book. "And it was queer your father should have
+been strangled on the very night when this Indian Hokar left the sugar
+on the counter. A coincidence, Sylvia darling."
+
+"No. Why should Hokar leave the sugar at all?"
+
+"Well, he didn't eat it, and therefore, if he was a Thug, he would have
+done so, had he intended to strangle your father."
+
+"I don't know," said Sylvia, with a look of obstinacy on her pretty
+face. "But remember the cruel way in which my father was killed, Paul.
+It's just what an Indian would do, and then the sugar--oh, I'm quite
+sure this hawker committed the crime."
+
+Beecot shook his head and strove to dissuade her from entertaining this
+idea. But Sylvia, usually so amenable to reason, refused to discard her
+theory, and indeed Paul himself thought that the incident of the sugar
+was queer. He determined to tell Hurd about the matter, and then the
+hawker might be found and made to explain why he had left the goor on
+the counter. "But the sect of the Thugs is extinct," argued Paul,
+quickly; "it can't be, Sylvia."
+
+"But it is," she insisted, "I'm sure." And from this firm opinion he
+could not move her. Finally, when he departed, he took the books with
+him, and promised to read the novel again. Perhaps something might come
+of Sylvia's fancy.
+
+The lovers spent the rest of the time in talking over their future, and
+Beecot looked hopefully towards making sufficient money to offer Sylvia
+a home. He also described to her how he had met Mrs. Krill and related
+what she was prepared to do. "Do you think we should accept the five
+hundred a year, Paul," said Sylvia, doubtfully; "it would put everything
+right, and so long as I am with you I don't care where we live."
+
+"If you leave the decision to me, darling," said Paul, "I think it will
+be best to refuse this offer. Something is wrong, or Mrs. Krill would
+not be so anxious to get you out of the country."
+
+"Oh, Paul, do you think she knows anything about the murder?"
+
+"No, dear. I don't think that. Mrs. Krill is far too clever a woman to
+put her neck in danger. But there may be a chance of her daughter losing
+the money. Sylvia," he asked, "you saw Maud Krill. How old would you
+take her to be?"
+
+"Oh, quite old, Paul," said Sylvia, decisively; "she dresses well and
+paints her face; but she's forty."
+
+"Oh, Sylvia, not so much as that."
+
+"Well, then, thirty and over," insisted Sylvia. "Debby thinks the same
+as I do."
+
+"Don't you think Debby's zeal may lead her to exaggerate?"
+
+"It doesn't lead me to exaggerate," said Sylvia, slightly offended; "and
+I have eyes in my head as well as Debby. That girl, or that woman, I
+should say, is over thirty, Paul."
+
+"In that case," said Beecot, his color rising, "I fancy I see the reason
+of Mrs. Krill's desire to get you out of the country. Maud," he added
+deliberately, "may not be your father's daughter after all."
+
+"What makes you think that?"
+
+"Well. According to the marriage certificate, and to Mrs. Krill's
+admission, she was married to your father thirty years ago. If Maud is
+over thirty--can't you see, Sylvia?"
+
+"Yes." Sylvia colored. "You mean she may be the same as I am?"
+
+"Not exactly, dear," replied Paul, soothing her. "I mean that Mrs. Krill
+may have been a widow and have had her little girl with her when she
+married your father. In that case Maud certainly could not get the
+money, and so Mrs. Krill wants you to leave England."
+
+"In case I would get it," said Sylvia, excited.
+
+Paul looked puzzled and rather sad. "I can't say, dear," he replied
+doubtfully. "Certainly the money is left to 'my daughter,' but as the
+marriage with your mother unfortunately is void, I fear you would not
+inherit. However," he said grimly, "there would be a certain pleasure in
+taking the money from that woman. Maud is a mere puppet in her hands,"
+he laughed. "And then Hay would marry a poor bride," he ended
+maliciously.
+
+Sylvia could not quite understand all this, and gave up trying to solve
+the problem with a pretty gesture of indifference. "What will you do,
+Paul?" she asked.
+
+"I'll see Hurd and tell him what you and Deborah say about the age of
+Maud Krill."
+
+"Why not see Mr. Pash?"
+
+"Because he is a traitor," replied Beecot, darkly, "and, knowing he has
+lost your confidence, he will certainly try and give Maud Krill
+possession of the money. No, I'll speak to Hurd, who is my friend and
+yours. He is clever and will be able to unravel this tangle."
+
+"Tell him about the goor also, Paul."
+
+"Yes. I'll explain everything I can, and then I'll get him to go down to
+Christchurch and see what happened there, when your father lived with
+Maud's mother."
+
+"What did happen, Paul?" asked Sylvia, anxiously.
+
+"Nothing," he replied with an assumption of carelessness, for he did not
+want to tell the girl about the fate of Lady Rachel Sandal, "but we may
+find in your father's past life what led to his murder."
+
+"Do you think Mrs. Krill had anything to do with it?"
+
+"My own, you asked that question before. No, I don't. Still, one never
+knows. I should think Mrs. Krill is a dangerous woman, although I fancy,
+too clever to risk being hanged. However, Hurd can find out if she was
+in town on the night your father was killed."
+
+"That was on the sixth of July," said Sylvia.
+
+"Yes. And he was murdered at twelve."
+
+"After twelve," said Sylvia. "I heard the policeman on his beat at a
+quarter-past, and then I came down. Poor father was strangled before our
+very eyes," she said, shuddering.
+
+"Hush, dear. Don't speak of it," said Paul, rising. "Let us talk of more
+interesting subjects."
+
+"Paul, I can think of nothing till I learn who killed my poor father,
+and why he was killed so cruelly."
+
+"Then we must wait patiently, Sylvia. Hurd is looking after the matter,
+and I have every confidence in Hurd. And, by Jove!" added Beecot, with
+an after-thought, "Mrs. Krill doubled the reward. Were she concerned in
+the matter she would not risk sharpening the wits of so clever a man as
+Hurd. No, Sylvia, whosoever strangled your father it was not Mrs.
+Krill."
+
+"It was this Indian," insisted Sylvia, "and he's a Thug."
+
+Paul laughed although he was far from thinking she might be wrong. Of
+course it seemed ridiculous that a Thug should strangle the old man. In
+the first place, the Thugs have been blotted out; in the second, if any
+survived, they certainly would not exercise their devilish religion in
+England, and in the third, Hokar, putting aside his offering strangled
+victims to Bhowanee, the goddess of the sect, had no reason for slaying
+an unoffending man. Finally, there was the sailor to be accounted
+for--the sailor who had tried to get the jewels from Pash. Paul wondered
+if Hurd had found out anything about this individual. "It's all very
+difficult," sighed Beecot, "and the more we go into the matter the more
+difficult does it get. But we'll see light some day. Hurd, if anyone,
+will unravel the mystery," and Sylvia agreed with him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HURD'S INFORMATION
+
+
+For the next day or two Paul was kept closely to work in the office,
+reading a number of tales which were awaiting his judgment. After hours,
+he several times tried to see Billy Hurd, but was unable to meet him. He
+left a note at the Scotland Yard office, asking if Hurd had received his
+communication regarding Mrs. Krill, and if so, what he proposed to do
+concerning it. Hurd did not reply to this note, and Paul was growing
+puzzled over the silence of the detective. At length the answer came,
+not in writing, but in the person of Hurd himself, who called on Beecot.
+
+The young man had just finished his frugal meal and was settling down to
+an evening's work when there came a knock to the door. Hurd, dressed in
+his usual brown suit, presented himself, looking cool and composed. But
+he was more excited than one would imagine, as Paul saw from the
+expression of his eyes. The detective accepted a cup of coffee and
+lighted his pipe. Then he sat down in the arm-chair on the opposite side
+of the fireplace and prepared to talk. Paul heaped on coals with a
+lavish hand, little as he could afford this extravagance, as the night
+was cold and he guessed that Hurd had much to say. So, on the whole,
+they had a very comfortable and interesting conversation.
+
+"I suppose you are pleased to see me?" asked Hurd, puffing meditatively
+at his briar.
+
+Paul nodded. "Very glad," he answered, "that is, if you have done
+anything about Mrs. Krill?"
+
+"Well," drawled the detective, smiling, "I have been investigating that
+murder case."
+
+"Lady Rachel Sandal's?" said Beecot, eagerly. "Is it really murder?"
+
+"I think so, though some folks think it suicide. Curious you should have
+stumbled across that young lord," went on Hurd, musingly, "and more
+curious still that he should have been in the room with Mrs. Krill
+without recollecting the name. There was a great fuss made about it at
+the time."
+
+"Oh, I can understand Lord George," said Beecot, promptly. "The murder,
+if it is one, took place before he was born, and as there seems to have
+been some scandal in the matter, the family hushed it up. This young
+fellow probably gathered scraps of information from old servants, but
+from what he said to me in the cab, I think he knows very little."
+
+"Quite enough to put me on the track of Lemuel Krill's reason for
+leaving Christchurch."
+
+"Is that the reason?"
+
+"Yes. Twenty-three years ago he left Christchurch at the very time Lady
+Rachel was murdered in his public-house. Then he disappeared for a time,
+and turned up a year later in Gwynne Street with a young wife whom he
+had married in the meantime."
+
+"Sylvia's mother?"
+
+"Exactly. And Miss Norman was born a year later. She's nearly
+twenty-one, isn't she?"
+
+"Yes. She will be twenty-one in three months."
+
+Hurd nodded gravely. "The time corresponds," said he. "As the crime was
+committed twenty-three years back and Lord George is only twenty, I can
+understand how he knows so little about it. But didn't he connect Mrs.
+Krill with the man who died in Gwynne Street?"
+
+"No. She explained that. The name of Krill appeared only a few times in
+the papers, and was principally set forth with the portrait, in the
+hand-bills. I shouldn't think Lord George was the kind of young man to
+bother about hand-bills."
+
+"All the same, he might have heard talk at his club. Everyone isn't so
+stupid."
+
+"No. But, at all events, he did not seem to connect Mrs. Krill with the
+dead man. And even with regard to the death of his aunt, he fancied she
+might not be the same woman."
+
+"What an ass he must be," said Hurd, contemptuously.
+
+"I don't think he has much brain," confessed Paul, shrugging his
+shoulders; "but he asked me if I thought Mrs. Krill was the same as the
+landlady of 'The Red Pig,' and I denied that she was. I don't like
+telling lies, but in this case I hope the departure from truth will be
+pardoned."
+
+"You did very right," said the detective. "The fewer people know about
+these matters the better--especially a chatterbox like this young fool."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"Yes, under the name of the Count de la Tour. But I know of him in
+another way, which I'll reveal later. Hay is still fleecing him?"
+
+"He is. But Lord George seems to be growing suspicious of Hay," and Paul
+related the conversation he had with the young man.
+
+Hurd grunted. "I'm sorry," he said. "I want to catch Hay red-handed, and
+if Lord George grows too clever I may not be able to do so."
+
+"Well," said Paul, rather impatiently, "never mind about that fellow
+just now, but tell me what you have discovered."
+
+"Oh, a lot of interesting things. When I got your letter, of course I at
+once connected the opal serpent with Aaron Norman, and his change of
+name with the murder. I knew that Norman came to Gwynne Street over
+twenty years ago--that came out in the evidence connected with his
+death. Therefore, putting two and two together, I searched in the
+newspapers of that period and found what I wanted."
+
+"A report of the case?"
+
+"Precisely. And after that I hunted up the records at Scotland Yard for
+further details that were not made public. So I got the whole story
+together, and I am pretty certain that Aaron Norman, or as he then was,
+Lemuel Krill, murdered Lady Rachel for the sake of that precious
+brooch."
+
+"Ah," said Paul, drawing a breath, "now I understand why he fainted when
+he saw it again. No wonder, considering it was connected in his mind
+with the death of Lady Rachel."
+
+"Quite so. And no wonder the man kept looking over his shoulder in the
+expectation of being tapped on the shoulder by a policeman. I don't
+wonder also that he locked up the house and kept his one eye on the
+ground, and went to church secretly to pray. What a life he must have
+led. Upon my soul, bad as the man was, I'm sorry for him."
+
+"So am I," said Paul. "And after all, he is Sylvia's father."
+
+"Poor girl, to have a murderer for a father!"
+
+Beecot turned pale. "I love Sylvia for herself," he said, with an
+effort, "and if her father had committed twenty murders I would not let
+her go. But she must never know."
+
+"No," said Hurd, stretching his hand across and giving Paul a friendly
+grip, "and I knew you'd stick to her. It wouldn't be fair to blame the
+girl for what her father did before she was born."
+
+"We must keep everything from her, Hurd. I'll marry her and take her
+abroad sooner than she should learn of this previous murder. But how did
+it happen?"
+
+"I'll tell you in a few minutes." Hurd rose and began to pace the narrow
+limits of the attic. "By the way, do you know that Norman was a secret
+drinker of brandy?"
+
+Paul nodded, and told the detective what he had learned from Mrs. Krill.
+Hurd was much struck with the intelligence. "I see," said he; "what Mrs.
+Krill says is quite true. Drink does change the ordinary nature into the
+opposite. Krill sober was a timid rabbit; Krill drunk was a murderer and
+a thief. Good lord, and how he drank!"
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Well," confessed Hurd, nursing his chin, "Pash and I went to search the
+Gwynne Street house to find, if possible, the story alluded to in the
+scrap of paper Deborah Junk found. We couldn't drop across anything of
+that sort, but in Norman's bedroom, which nobody ever entered, we found
+brandy bottles by the score. Under the bed, ranged along the walls,
+filling cupboards, stowed away in boxes. I had the curiosity to count
+them. Those we found, ran up to five hundred, and Lord knows how many
+more he must have got rid of when he found the bottles crowding him
+inconveniently."
+
+"I expect he got drunk every night," said Paul, thinking. "When he
+locked up Sylvia and Deborah in the upper room--I can understand now why
+he did so--he could go to the cellar and take possession of the shop key
+left on the nail by Bart. Then, free from all intrusion, he could drink
+till reeling. Not that I think he ever did reel," went on Beecot,
+mindful of what Mrs. Krill had said; "he could stand a lot, and I expect
+the brandy only converted him into a demon."
+
+"And a clever business man," said Hurd. "You know Aaron Norman was not
+clever over the books. Bart sold those, but from all accounts he was a
+Shylock when dealing, after seven o'clock, in the pawnbroking way. I
+understand now. Sober, he was a timid fool; drunk, he was a bold, clever
+villain."
+
+"My poor Sylvia, what a father," sighed Paul; "but this crime--"
+
+"I'll tell you about it. Lemuel Krill and his wife kept 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch, a little public house it is, on the outskirts of the town,
+frequented by farm-laborers and such-like. The business was pretty good,
+but the couple didn't look to making their fortune. Mrs. Krill was a
+farmer's daughter."
+
+"A Buckinghamshire farmer," said Paul.
+
+"How do you know? oh!"--on receiving information--"Mrs. Krill told you
+so? Well, considering the murder of Lady Rachel, she would have done
+better to hold her tongue and have commenced life with her dead
+husband's money under a new name. She's a clever woman, too," mused
+Hurd, "I can't understand her being so unnecessarily frank."
+
+"Never mind, go on," said Paul, impatiently.
+
+Hurd returned to his seat and re-filled his pipe. "Well, then," he
+continued, "Krill got drunk and gave his wife great trouble. Sometimes
+he thrashed her and blacked her eyes, and he treated their daughter
+badly too."
+
+"How old was the daughter?"
+
+"I can't say. Why do you ask?"
+
+"I'll tell you later. Go on, please."
+
+"Well, then, Mrs. Krill always revenged herself on her husband when he
+was sober and timid, so the couple were evenly matched. Krill was master
+when drunk, and his wife mistress when he was sober. A kind of see-saw
+sort of life they must have led."
+
+"Where does Lady Rachel come in?"
+
+"What an impatient chap you are," remonstrated Hurd, in a friendly tone.
+"I'm coming to that now. Lady Rachel quarrelled with her father over
+some young artist she wanted to marry. He would not allow the lover to
+come to the Hall, so Lady Rachel said she would kill herself rather than
+give him up."
+
+"And she did," said Paul, thinking of the suicide theory.
+
+"There you go again. How am I to tell you all when you interrupt."
+
+"I beg your pardon. I won't do so again."
+
+Hurd nodded smilingly and continued. "One night--it was dark and
+stormy--Lady Rachel had a row royal with her father. Then she ran out of
+the Hall saying her father would never see her alive again. She may have
+intended to commit suicide certainly, or she may have intended to join
+her lover in London. But whatever she intended to do, the rain cooled
+her. She staggered into Christchurch and fell down insensible at the
+door of 'The Red Pig.' Mrs. Krill brought her indoors and laid her on a
+bed."
+
+"Did she know who the lady was?"
+
+Hurd shook his head. "She said in her evidence that she did not, but
+living in the neighborhood, she certainly must have seen Lady Rachel
+sometimes. Krill was drunk as usual. He had been boozing all the day
+with a skipper of some craft at Southampton. He was good for nothing, so
+Mrs. Krill did everything. She declares that she went to bed at eleven
+leaving Lady Rachel sleeping."
+
+"Did Lady Rachel recover her senses?"
+
+"Yes--according to Mrs. Krill--but she refused to say who she was, and
+merely stated that she would sleep at 'The Red Pig' that night and would
+go on to London next morning. Mrs. Krill swore that Lady Rachel had no
+idea of committing suicide. Well, about midnight, Mrs. Krill, who slept
+in one room with her daughter, was awakened by loud shouts. She sprang
+to her feet and hurried out, her daughter came also, as she had been
+awakened and was terrified. Mrs. Krill found that her husband was raving
+mad with drink and smashing the furniture in the room below. The
+skipper--"
+
+"What was the skipper's name?"
+
+"Jessop--Jarvey Jessop. Well, he also, rather drunk, was retiring to bed
+and stumbled by chance into Lady Rachel's room. He found her quite dead
+and shouted for assistance. The poor lady had a silk handkerchief she
+wore tied tightly round her throat and fastened to the bedpost. When
+Jessop saw this, he ran out of the inn in dismay. Mrs. Krill descended
+to give the alarm to her neighbors, but Krill struck her down, and
+struck his daughter also, making her mouth bleed. An opal brooch that
+Lady Rachel wore was missing, but Mrs. Krill only knew of that the next
+day. She was insensible from the blow given by Krill, and the daughter
+ran out to get assistance. When the neighbors entered, Krill was gone,
+and notwithstanding all the search made for him he could not be found."
+
+"And Jessop?"
+
+"He turned up and explained that he had been frightened on finding the
+woman dead. But the police found him on his craft at Southampton, and he
+gave evidence. He said that Krill when drunk, and like a demon, as Mrs.
+Krill told you, had left the room several times. The last time he came
+back, he and the skipper had a final drink, and then Jessop retired to
+find--the body. It was supposed by the police that Krill had killed Lady
+Rachel for the sake of the brooch, which could not be discovered--"
+
+"But the brooch--"
+
+"Hold on. I know what you are about to say. We'll come to that shortly.
+Let me finish this yarn first. It was also argued that, from Lady
+Rachel's last words to her father, and from the position of the
+body--tied by the neck to the bedpost--that she had committed suicide.
+Mrs. Krill, as I said, declared the deceased lady never mentioned the
+idea of making away with herself. However, Krill's flight and the chance
+that, being drunk, he might have strangled the lady for the sake of the
+brooch while out of the room, made many think he was the culprit,
+especially as Jessop said that Krill had noticed the brooch and
+commented on the opals."
+
+"He was a traveller in jewels once, according to his wife."
+
+"Yes, and left that to turn innkeeper. Afterwards he vanished, as I say,
+and became a pawnbroker in Gwynne Street. Well, the jury at the inquest
+could not agree. Some thought Lady Rachel had committed suicide, and
+others that Krill had murdered her. Then the family didn't want a
+scandal, so in one way and another the matter was hushed up. The jury
+brought in a verdict of suicide by a majority of one, so you can see how
+equally they were divided. Lady Rachel's body was laid in the family
+vault, and nothing more was heard of Lemuel Krill."
+
+"What did Mrs. Krill do?"
+
+"She stopped on at the inn, as she told you. People were sorry for her
+and helped her, so she did very well. Mother and daughter have lived at
+'The Red Pig' all these years, highly respected, until they saw the
+hand-bills about Krill. Then the money was claimed, but as the
+circumstance of Lady Rachel's fate was so old, nobody thought of
+mentioning it till this young lord did so to you, and I--as you
+see--have hunted out the details."
+
+"What is your opinion, Hurd?" asked Paul, deeply interested.
+
+"Oh, I think Krill murdered the woman and then cut to London. That
+accounts for his looking over his shoulder, etc., about which we
+talked."
+
+"But how did he get money to start as a bookseller? Premises are not
+leased in Gwynne Street for nothing."
+
+"Well, he might have got money on the brooch."
+
+"No. The brooch was pawned by a nautical gentleman." Paul started up.
+"Captain Jessop, perhaps. You remember?" he said excitedly.
+
+"Ah," said Hurd, puffing his pipe with satisfaction, "I see you
+understand. I mentioned that about the brooch to hear what you would
+say. Yes, Jessop must have pawned the brooch at Stowley, and it must
+have been Jessop who came with the note for the jewels to Pash."
+
+"Ha," said Paul, walking excitedly about the room. "Then it would seem
+that Jessop and Krill were in league?"
+
+"I think so," said Hurd, staring at the fire. "And yet I am not sure.
+Jessop may have found that Krill had killed the woman, and then have
+made him give up the brooch, which he afterwards pawned at Stowley.
+Though why he should go near Mrs. Krill's old home, I can't understand."
+
+"Is Stowley near her old home?"
+
+"Yes--in Buckinghamshire. However, after pawning the brooch I expect
+Jessop lost sight of Krill till he must have come across him a few days
+before the crime. Then he must have made Krill sign the paper ordering
+the jewels to be given up by Pash, so that he might get money."
+
+"A kind of blackmail in fact."
+
+"Well," said Hurd, doubtfully, "after all, Jessop might have killed
+Krill himself."
+
+"But how did Jessop get the brooch?"
+
+"Ah, that I can't tell you, unless Norman himself picked it up in the
+street. We must find these things out. I'm going to Christchurch to
+make inquiries. I'll let you know what I discover," and Hurd rose.
+
+"One minute," said Paul, hastily. "Do you think Miss Krill is the dead
+man's child?"
+
+"Of course. She's as like her mother as two peas. Why do you ask?"
+
+Paul detailed what Sylvia and Deborah had said. "So if she is over
+thirty," said Beecot, "she can't be Krill's child, or else she must have
+been born before Krill married his wife. In either case, she has no
+right to the money."
+
+"It's strange," said Hurd, musingly. "I'll have to look into that.
+Meanwhile, I've got plenty to do."
+
+"There's another thing I have to say."
+
+"You'll confuse me, Beecot. What is it?"
+
+"The sugar and that hawker," and Paul related what Sylvia had said about
+Thuggism. Hurd sat down and stared. "That must be bosh," he said,
+looking at the novel, "and yet it's mighty queer. I say," he took the
+three volumes, "will you lend me these?"
+
+"Yes. Be careful. They are not mine."
+
+"I'll be careful. But I can't dip into them just yet, nor can I go into
+the Hindoo business, let alone this age of Miss Krill. The first thing I
+have to do is to go to Christchurch and see--"
+
+"And see if Mrs. Krill was at home on the night of the sixth of July."
+
+Hurd started. "Oh," said he, dryly, "the night the crime was committed,
+you mean? Well, I didn't intend to look up that point, as I do not see
+how Mrs. Krill can be implicated. However, I'll take a note of that,"
+and this he did, and then continued. "But I'm anxious to find Jessop. I
+shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that he committed the double
+crime."
+
+"The double crime?"
+
+"Yes. He might have strangled Lady Rachel, and twenty years later have
+killed Krill. I can't be sure, but I think he is the guilty person."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AT CHRISTCHURCH, HANTS
+
+
+The next afternoon Hurd was on his way to the former abode of Mrs.
+Krill. During the journey he glanced at his notes and arranged what
+inquiries he should make. It struck him as strange that Mrs. Krill
+should have told Paul of her association with "The Red Pig," considering
+the reputation of the place, in connection with Lady Rachel Sandal's
+murder--or suicide. It would have been better had Mrs. Krill changed her
+name by letters patent and have started a new life on her dead husband's
+money. The detective could not understand the reason for this
+unnecessary frankness.
+
+Before leaving town he took the precaution to call on Pash and note down
+a description of the sailor--presumably Jessop--who had tried to obtain
+possession of the jewels on the morning after the crime had been
+committed in Gwynne Street. He learned that the man (who had given no
+name) was tall and stout, with the flushed skin of a habitual drinker of
+strong waters, and reddish hair mixed with grey. He also had a scar
+running from his right temple to his mouth, and although this was partly
+concealed by a beard, yet it was distinctly visible. The man was dressed
+in blue serge, carried his large hands slightly clenched, and rolled in
+his gait. Hurd noted these things down, and had little doubt but what he
+would recognize the man if he came across him. Connecting him with the
+individual who had pawned the brooch at Stowley, Hurd fancied he might
+be Jessop. He resolved to look for him in Southampton, as, judging from
+the evidence given at the inquest on Lady Rachel's remains, that was the
+port of call for the mariner.
+
+At the station immediately before that of Christchurch, Hurd glanced at
+a telegram which he produced out of his pocket-book, and then leaned out
+of the carriage window. A pretty, daintily-dressed little woman saw him
+and at once entered the carriage with a gay laugh. She was Miss Aurora
+Qian, and Paul would have been considerably astonished had he overheard
+her conversation with Mr. Hurd. But the detective and the actress had
+the compartment to themselves, and talked freely.
+
+"It's the safest place to talk in," explained Miss Qian, producing a bag
+of chocolate and eating during the conversation. "Of course, I told the
+landlady at 'The Red Pig' that my brother was coming down, so we can go
+there right enough. But walls have ears. I don't think railway carriages
+have, though, and we have much to say, Billy."
+
+"Have you found out anything, Aurora?" asked Hurd.
+
+Miss Qian nodded. "A great deal considering I have been in the place
+only twenty-four hours. It's a good thing I'm out of an engagement,
+Billy, or I shouldn't have time to leave London or to look after that
+man Hay. I _am_ a good sister."
+
+"Well, you are. But there's money in the business also. If I can get
+that thousand pounds, you'll have your share."
+
+"I know you'll treat me straight, Billy," said the actress, with much
+satisfaction. "I always say that my brother is as square a man as I
+know."
+
+"The deuce you do," said Hurd, rather vexed. "I hope you don't go
+telling everyone that I am your brother, Aurora?"
+
+"Only one or two special friends--not Hay, you may be sure. Nor does
+that nice Mr. Beecot know that we are brother and sister."
+
+"You'd best keep it dark, and say nothing, Aurora. It's just as well you
+left the private detective business and went on the stage. You talk too
+much."
+
+"Oh, no, I don't," retorted Miss Qian, eating a sweet. "Don't be nasty,
+Billy, or I'll tell you nothing."
+
+Her brother shrugged his shoulders. He was very fond of Aurora, but he
+saw her many faults, and she certainly had too long a tongue for one
+engaged in private matters. "What about Hay?" he asked.
+
+Aurora raised her eyes. "I thought you wanted to know of my discoveries
+at Christchurch," she said, pouting.
+
+"Well, I do. But Hay?--"
+
+"Oh, he's all right. He's going to marry Miss Krill and her money, and
+is getting cash together by fleecing young Sandal. That fool _will_
+play, and keeps losing his money, although I've warned him."
+
+"Then don't warn him. I wish to catch Hay red-handed."
+
+"Ah," Miss Qian nodded, "you may catch him red-handed in a worse matter
+than gambling."
+
+"Aurora, you don't mean to say he has anything to do with the murder of
+Aaron Norman?"
+
+"Well, I don't go so far as to say that, Billy. But when I got settled
+in the private sitting-room of 'The Red Pig' on the plea that I had come
+down for a change of air, and expected my brother--"
+
+"Which you do without any lies."
+
+"Yes, that's all right, Billy," she said impatiently. "Well, the first
+thing I clapped eyes on was a portrait of Grexon Hay in a silver frame
+on the mantelpiece."
+
+"Hum," said Hurd, nursing his chin in his hand, "he may have given that
+to Miss Krill during the engagement."
+
+"I daresay," rejoined the actress, tartly, "for he has been engaged for
+many a long day--say two years."
+
+"I thought so," said Hurd, triumphantly. "I always fancied the meeting
+at Pash's office was a got-up thing."
+
+"What made you think so?"
+
+"Because, when disguised as the Count de la Tour, I overheard Hay
+address Miss Krill as Maud, and it was the first time she and her mother
+came to his rooms. Sandal was there, and gambling went on as usual. I
+lost money myself," said Hurd, with a grimace, "in order to make Hay
+think I was another pigeon to pluck. But the mention of the Christian
+name on so short an acquaintance showed me that Hay and Miss Krill had
+met before. I expect the meeting at Pash's office was a got-up game."
+
+"You said that before, Billy. How you repeat yourself! Yes. There's an
+inscription on the portrait--'From Grexon to Maud with much
+love'--sweet, isn't it? when you think what an icicle the man is. There
+is also a date--two years ago the photograph was given. I admired the
+photograph and asked the landlady who was the swell."
+
+"What's the landlady's name?"
+
+"Matilda Junk."
+
+Hurd almost jumped from his seat. "That's queer," he said, "the woman
+who is devoted to Miss Norman and who nursed her since she was a baby is
+called Deborah Junk."
+
+"I know that," said Aurora, "I'm not quite a fool, Billy. I mentioned
+Deborah Junk, whom I saw at the inquest on Norman's body. The landlady
+said she was her sister, but she had not heard of her for ages. And this
+Matilda is just like Deborah in looks--a large Dutch doll with beady
+eyes and a badly painted face."
+
+"Well, that's a point," said Hurd, making a note. "What did she say
+about the photograph?"
+
+"Oh, that it was one of Mr. Hay who was Miss Krill's young man, and that
+they had been engaged for two years--"
+
+"Matilda seems to be a chatterbox."
+
+"She is. I got a lot out of her."
+
+"Then there can be nothing to conceal on the part of Mrs. Krill?"
+
+"Well," said Aurora, throwing the empty sweetmeat bag out of the window
+and brushing her lap, "so far as I can discover, Mrs. Krill is a
+perfectly respectable person, and has lived for thirty years as the
+landlady of 'The Red Pig.' Matilda acknowledged that her mistress had
+inherited the money of Lemuel Krill, and Matilda knows all about the
+murder."
+
+"Matilda is wrong," said the detective, dryly; "Miss Krill gets the
+money."
+
+Aurora smiled. "From what I heard, Miss Krill has to do what her mother
+tells her. She's nobody and her mother is all the world. Matilda
+confessed that her mistress had behaved very well to her. When the money
+came, she gave up 'The Red Pig' to Matilda Junk, who is now the
+landlady."
+
+"With a proviso she should hold her tongue."
+
+"No. Mrs. Krill, so far as I can learn, has nothing to conceal. Even if
+it becomes known in London that she was the landlady of a small pub, I
+don't think it will matter."
+
+"Did you ask questions about Lady Rachel's murder?"
+
+"No. You gave me only a hint when you sent me down. I didn't like to
+venture on ground I wasn't sure of. I'm more cautious than you."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you everything now," said Hurd, and gave a rapid sketch
+of what he had learned from the newspapers and the Scotland Yard papers
+relative to the Sandal affair. Aurora nodded.
+
+"But Matilda Junk said nothing of that. She merely stated that Mr.
+Lemuel Krill had gone to London over twenty years ago, and that his wife
+knew nothing of him until she saw the hand-bills."
+
+"Hum," said Hurd again, as the train slowed down to the Christchurch
+station, "it seems all fair and above board. What about Jessop?"
+
+"Knowing so little of the Lady Rachel case, I didn't inquire about him,"
+said Aurora. "I've told you everything."
+
+"Anyone else stopping at the inn?"
+
+"No. And it's not a bad little place after all. The rooms are clean and
+the food good and the charges low. I'd rather stop at 'The Red Pig,'
+small as it is, than at the big hotel. The curries--oh, they are
+delightfully hot!" Miss Qian screwed her small face into a smile of
+ecstasy. "But, then, a native makes them."
+
+Hurd started. "Curries--a native?"
+
+"Yes--a man called Hokar."
+
+"Aurora, that's the man who left the sugar on the counter of Norman's
+shop. I forgot you don't know about that," and Hurd rapidly told her of
+the episode.
+
+"It's strange," said Miss Qian, nodding with a faraway look. "It would
+seem that Mrs. Krill knew of the whereabouts of her husband before she
+saw the hand-bills."
+
+"And possibly about the murder also," said Hurd.
+
+Brother and sister looked at one another; the case was becoming more and
+more interesting. Mrs. Krill evidently knew more than she chose to
+admit. But at this moment the train stopped, and they got out. Hurd took
+his handbag and walked into the town with his pretty sister tripping
+beside him. She gave him an additional piece of information before they
+arrived at "The Red Pig." "This Hokar is not at all popular," she said;
+"they say he eats cats and dogs. Yes. I've talked to several old women,
+and they say they lost their animals. One cat was found strangled in the
+yard, and--"
+
+"Strangled!" interrupted the detective. "Hum, and the man's an Indian,
+possibly a Thug."
+
+"What's a Thug?" asked Aurora, staring.
+
+Hurd explained. "I ran through the book lent by Beecot last night," he
+added, "and was so interested I sat up till dawn--"
+
+"You do look chippy," said his sister, candidly, "but from what you say,
+there are no Thugs living."
+
+"No, the author says so. Still, it's queer, this strangling, and then
+the cruel way in which the man was murdered. Just what a Hindoo would
+do. The sugar too--"
+
+"Oh, nonsense! Hokar left the sugar by mistake. If he had intended to
+murder Norman he wouldn't have given himself away."
+
+"I expect he never thought anyone would guess he was a Thug. The novel
+is not one usually read nowadays. It was the merest chance that Miss
+Norman came across it and told Beecot."
+
+"I don't believe in such coincidences," said Aurora, dryly; for in spite
+of her fluffy, kittenish looks, she was a very practical person. "But
+here we are at 'The Red Pig.' Nice and comfy, isn't it?"
+
+The inn was certainly very pretty. It stood on the very verge of the
+town, and beyond stretched fields and hedgerows. The house itself was a
+white-washed, thatched, rustic cottage, with a badly painted sign of a
+large red sow. Outside were benches, where topers sat, and the windows
+were delightfully old-fashioned, diamond-paned casements. Quite a
+Dickens inn of the old coaching days was "The Red Pig."
+
+But Hurd gave the pretty, quaint hostel only a passing glance. He was
+staring at a woman who stood in the doorway shading her eyes with the
+palm of her hand from the setting sun. In her the detective saw the
+image of Deborah Junk, now Tawsey. She was of the same gigantic build,
+with the same ruddy face, sharp, black eyes and boisterous manner. But
+she had not the kindly look of Deborah, and of the two sisters Hurd
+preferred the one he already knew.
+
+"This is my brother, Miss Junk," said Aurora, marching up to the door;
+"he will only stay until to-morrow."
+
+"You're welcome, sir," said Matilda in a loud and hearty voice, which
+reminded the detective more than ever of her sister. "Will you please
+walk in and 'ave some tea?"
+
+Hurd nodded and repaired to the tiny sitting-room, where he saw the
+photograph of Hay on the mantelpiece. Aurora, at a hint from her
+brother, went to her bedroom to change her dress, and Hurd spoke to
+Matilda, when she brought in the tray. "I know your sister," said he.
+
+Miss Junk nearly dropped the tray. "Lor', now, only think! Why, we ain't
+wrote to one another for ten years. And I left London eleven years back.
+And how is she, sir? and where is she?"
+
+"She is well; she has a laundry in Jubileetown near London, and she is
+married to a fellow called Bart Tawsey."
+
+"Married!" cried Matilda, setting down the tray and putting her arms
+akimbo, just like Deborah, "lor', and me still single. But now I've got
+this 'ouse, and a bit put by, I'll think of gittin' a 'usband. I ain't
+a-goin' to let Debby crow over me."
+
+"Your sister was in the service of Mr. Norman before she took up the
+laundry," observed Hurd, pouring out a cup of tea.
+
+"Was she, now? And why did she leave?"
+
+The name of Norman apparently was unknown to Matilda, so Hurd tried the
+effect of another bombshell. "Her master was murdered under the name of
+Lemuel Krill."
+
+"Mercy," Matilda dropped into a chair, with a thud which shook the room;
+"why, that's my ladies' husband and father."
+
+"What ladies?" asked Hurd, pretending ignorance.
+
+"My ladies, Mrs. Krill and Miss Maud. They had this 'ouse, and kep' it
+for years respectable. I worked for 'em ten, and when my ladies comes in
+for a forting, for a forting there is, they gave me the goodwill of 'The
+Red Pig.' To think of Debby being the servant of poor Mr. Krill as was
+killed. Who killed 'im?"
+
+"Doesn't your mistress know?"
+
+"She," cried Matilda, indignantly, and bouncing up. "Why, she was always
+a-lookin' for him, not as she loved him over much. And as he is dead,
+sir, it's no more as what he oughter be, seeing as he killed a poor lady
+in this very 'ouse. You'll sleep in 'er room to-night," added Matilda,
+as if that was a pleasure. "Strangled, she was."
+
+"I think I heard of that. But Lady Rachel Sandal committed suicide."
+
+Matilda rubbed her nose, after the Deborah fashion. "Well, sir, my
+ladies were never sure which it was, and, of course, it was before my
+time considerable, being more nor twenty year back. But the man as did
+it is dead, and lef' my ladies his money, as he oughter. An' Miss Maud's
+a-goin' to marry a real gent"--Matilda glanced at the photograph--"I
+allays said he wos a gent, bein' so 'aughty like, and wearing evening
+dress at meals, late."
+
+"Was he ever down here, this gentleman?"
+
+"He's been comin' and goin' fur months, and Miss Maud loves 'im
+somethin' cruel. But they'll marry now an' be 'appy."
+
+"I suppose your ladies sometimes went to see this gent in town?"
+
+"Meanin' Mr. Hay," said Matilda, artlessly. "Well, sir, they did, one at
+a time and then together. Missis would go and miss would foller, an'
+miss an' missus together would take their joy of the Towers an' shops
+and Madame Tusord's and sich like, Mr. Hay allays lookin' after 'em."
+
+"Did they ever visit Mr. Hay in July?"
+
+"No, they didn't," snapped Matilda, with a change of tone which did not
+escape Hurd; "and I don't know, sir, why you arsk them questions."
+
+"My good woman, I ask no questions. If I do, you need not reply. Let us
+change the subject. My sister tells me you make good curries in this
+hotel."
+
+"Hokar do, me bein' but a plain cook."
+
+"Oh! He's an Indian?"
+
+"Yes, he is, sir. A pore Indian castaway as missus took up with when he
+come here drenched with rain and weary. Ah, missus was allays good and
+kind and Christian-like."
+
+Privately Hurd thought this description did not apply very well to the
+lady in question, but he was careful not to arouse Matilda's suspicions
+again by contradicting her. He pretended to joke. "I wonder you don't
+marry this Indian, and keep him here always to make the curries I have
+heard of."
+
+"Me marry a black!" cried Matilda, tossing her rough head. "Well, sir, I
+never," her breath failed her, "an' him goin' about the country."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"What I say," said Miss Junk; "he'll stop here, Christian-like, for
+days, and then go orf to sell things as a 'awker. My par was a 'awker,
+sir, but a white, white man of the finest."
+
+Hurd was about to ask another question when a husky voice was heard
+singing somewhat out of tune. "What's that?" asked Hurd, irritably.
+
+"Lor', sir, wot nervses you 'ave. 'Tis only Cap'n Jessop makin' hisself
+'appy-like."
+
+"Captain Jessop," Hurd laughed. He had run down his man at last.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+CAPTAIN JESSOP
+
+
+Apparently Matilda Junk was quite ignorant of anything being wrong about
+her ladies, although she did shirk the question regarding their possible
+visit to London in July. However, Hurd had learned that Grexon Hay not
+only was an old friend, but had been engaged to Maud for many months.
+This information made him the more certain that Hay had robbed Beecot of
+the opal brooch at the time of the accident, and that it had passed from
+Mr. Hay's hands into those of the assassin.
+
+"I wonder if Mrs. Krill murdered her husband in that cruel way," thought
+the detective, sitting over his tea; "but what could have been her
+object? She could have gone up on learning from Hay that Aaron Norman
+was her husband--as I believe she did--and could then have made him give
+her the money, by threatening him with the murder of Lady Rachel. I
+daresay Aaron Norman in his Krill days did strangle that lady to get the
+opal brooch and his wife could have used what she knew to govern him.
+There was no need of murder. Hum! I'll see about getting the truth out
+of Hay. Aurora," he cried. "Oh, there you are," he added, as she entered
+the room. "I want you to go back to town this night."
+
+"What for, Billy?"
+
+"Can you get Hay into trouble?"
+
+Aurora nodded. "I have proofs of his cheating Lord George and others,
+if that's what you mean," she said; "but you didn't want them used."
+
+"Nor do I. He's such an eel, he may wriggle out of our clutches. But
+can't you give a party and invite Lord George and Hay, and then get them
+to play cards. Should Hay cheat, denounce him to George Sandal."
+
+"What good would that do?" asked Miss Qian, with widely open eyes.
+
+"It will make Hay confess about the brooch to save himself from public
+shame. His reputation is his life, remember, and if he is caught
+red-handed cheating, he'll have to clear out of town."
+
+"Pooh, as if that mattered. He's going to marry Miss Krill."
+
+"If Miss Krill keeps the money, and I doubt if she will."
+
+"But, Billy--"
+
+"Never mind. Don't ask me any more questions, but go and pack. This
+Captain Jessop is in the bar drinking. I may probably have to arrest
+him. I got a warrant on the chance of finding him here. I can arrest him
+on suspicion, and won't let him go until I get at the truth. Your
+business is to bring Hay to his knees and get the truth out of him about
+the opal serpent. You know the case?"
+
+"Yes," grumbled Aurora, "I know the case. But I don't like this long
+journey to-night."
+
+"Every moment is precious. If I arrest Jessop, Matilda Junk will tell
+her ladies, who will speak to Hay, and then he may slip away. As the
+brooch evidence is so particular, and, as I believe he can give it, if
+forced, you can see the importance of losing no time."
+
+Miss Qian nodded and went away to pack. She wanted money and knew Billy
+would give her a goodly share of the reward. In a few minutes Miss Junk,
+of "The Red Pig," learned that Miss Qian was suddenly summoned to town
+and would leave in an hour. Quite unsuspectingly she assisted her to
+pack, and shortly Aurora was driving in a hired vehicle to the railway
+station on her way to trap Grexon Hay.
+
+When she was safely off the premises, Hurd walked to the telegraph
+office, and sent a cipher message to the Yard, asking for a couple of
+plain clothes policemen to be sent down. He wanted to have Hokar and
+Miss Matilda Junk watched, also the house, in case Mrs. Krill and her
+daughter should return. Captain Jessop he proposed to look after
+himself. But he was in no hurry to make that gentleman's acquaintance,
+as he intended to arrest him quietly in the sitting-room after dinner.
+Already he had informed Matilda that he would ask a gentleman to join
+him at the meal and taste Hokar's curry.
+
+The thought of the curry brought the Indian to his mind, and when he got
+back to the Red Pig, he strolled round the house, inspecting the place,
+but in reality keeping eyes and ears open to talk to the Hindoo.
+Thinking he might meet the man some time, Hurd had carefully learned a
+few phrases relating to Thuggism--in English of course, since he knew
+nothing of the Indian tongues. These he proposed to use in the course of
+conversation with Hokar and watch the effect. Soon he found the man
+sitting cross-legged under a tree in the yard, smoking. Evidently his
+work for the day was over, and he was enjoying himself. Remembering the
+description given by Bart, the detective saw that this was the very man
+who had entered the shop of Aaron Norman. He wore the same dress and
+looked dirty and disreputable--quite a waif and a stray.
+
+"Hullo," said Hurd, casually, "what are you doing. Talk English, eh?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Hokar, calmly. "I spike good Englis. Missionary teach
+Hokar Englis."
+
+"I'm glad of that; we can have a chat," said Hurd, producing his pipe.
+He also produced something else with which he had provided himself on
+the way back from the post-office. In another minute Hokar was staring
+at a small parcel of coarse brown sugar. With all his Oriental phlegm
+the man could not keep his countenance. His eyes rolled until they
+threatened to drop out of his head, and he looked at Hurd with a certain
+amount of fear. "Goor," said that gentleman, pointing to the sugar with
+the stem of his pipe, "goor!"
+
+Hokar turned green under his dark skin, and half-rose to go away, but
+his legs failed him, and he sat still trying to recover himself. "So you
+worship Bhowanee?" went on his tormentor.
+
+The Indian's face expressed lively curiosity. "The great goddess."
+
+"Yes. Kalee, you know. Did you make Tupounee after you used your roomal
+on Aaron Norman?"
+
+Hokar gave a guttural cry and gasped. Tupounee is the sacrifice made by
+the Thugs after a successful crime, and roomal the handkerchief with
+which they strangled their victims. All this was information culled from
+Colonel Meadow Taylor's book by the accomplished detective. "Well," said
+Hurd, smoking placidly, "what have you to say, Mr. Hokar?"
+
+"I know nozzin'," said the man, sullenly, but in deadly fear.
+
+"Yes, you do. Sit still," said Hurd, with sudden sternness. "If you try
+to run away, I'll have you arrested. Eyes are on you, and you can't take
+a step without my knowing."
+
+Some of this was Greek to the Indian, owing to his imperfect knowledge
+of English. But he understood that the law would lay hold of him if he
+did not obey this Sahib, and so sat still. "I know not anysing," he
+repeated, his teeth chattering.
+
+"Yes, you do. You're a Thug."
+
+"Zer no Thug."
+
+"I agree with you," said Hurd; "you are the last of the Mohicans. I want
+to know why you offered Aaron Norman to Bhowanee?"
+
+Hokar made a strange sign on his forehead at the mention of the sacred
+name, and muttered something--perhaps a prayer--in his native tongue.
+Then he looked up. "I know nozzing."
+
+"Don't repeat that rubbish," said Hurd, calmly; "you sold boot laces in
+the shop in Gwynne Street on the day when its master was killed. And he
+was the husband of the lady who helped you--Mrs. Krill."
+
+"You say dat," said Hokar, stolidly.
+
+"Yes, and I can prove it. The boy Tray--and I can lay my hands on
+him--saw you, also Bart Tawsey, the shopman. You left a handful of
+sugar, though why you did so instead of eating it, I can't understand."
+
+Hokar's face lighted up, and he showed his teeth disdainfully. "Oh, you
+Sahibs know nozzin'!" said he, spreading out his lean brown hands. "Ze
+shops--ah, yis. I there, yis. But I use no roomal."
+
+"Not then, but you did later."
+
+Hokar shook his head. "I use no roomal. Zat Sahib one eye--bad, ver bad.
+Bhowanee, no have one eye. No Bhungees, no Bhats, no--"
+
+"What are you talking about?" said Hurd, angrily. His reading had not
+told him that no maimed persons could be offered to the goddess of the
+Thugs. Bhungees meant sweepers, and Bhats bards, both of which classes
+were spared by the stranglers. "You killed that man. Now, who told you
+to kill him?"
+
+"I know nozzin', I no kill. Bhowanee no take one-eye mans."
+
+For want of an interpreter Hurd found it difficult to carry on the
+conversation. He rose and determined to postpone further examination
+till he would get someone who understood the Hindoo tongue. But in the
+meantime Hokar might run away, and Hurd rather regretted that he had
+been so precipitate. However, he nodded to the man and went off, pretty
+sure he would not fly at once.
+
+Then Hurd went to the village police-office, and told a bucolic
+constable to keep his eye on Miss Junk's "fureiner," as he learned Hokar
+was called. The policeman, a smooth-faced individual, promised to do so,
+after Hurd produced his credentials, and sauntered towards "The Red
+Pig," at some distance from the detective's heels. A timely question
+about the curry revealed, by the mouth of Miss Junk, that Hokar was
+still in the kitchen. "But he do seem alarmed-like," said Matilda,
+laying the cloth.
+
+"Let's hope he won't spoil the curry," remarked Hurd. Then, knowing
+Hokar was safe, he went into the bar to make the acquaintance of his
+other victim.
+
+Captain Jarvey Jessop quite answered to the description given by Pash.
+He was large and sailor-like, with red hair mixed with grey and a red
+beard that scarcely concealed the scar running from temple to mouth. He
+had drunk enough to make him cheerful and was quite willing to fall into
+conversation with Hurd, who explained himself unnecessarily. "I'm a
+commercial gent," said the detective, calling for two rums, plain, "and
+I like talking."
+
+"Me, too," growled the sailor, grasping his glass. "I'm here on what
+you'd call a visit, but I go back to my home to-morrow. Then it's ho for
+Callao," he shouted in a sing-song voice.
+
+Hurd knew the fierce old chanty and sized Captain Jarvey up at once. He
+was of the buccaneer type, and there was little he would not do to make
+money and have a roaring time. Failing Hokar, with his deadly
+handkerchief, here was the man who might have killed Aaron Norman.
+"Drink up," shouted Hurd in his turn, "we'll have some more.
+
+    "On no condition, is extradition,
+        Allowed in Callao."
+
+"Gum," said Captain Jessop, "you know the chanty."
+
+Hurd winked. "I've bin round about in my time."
+
+Jessop stretched out a huge hand. "Put it there, mate," said he, with a
+roar like a fog-horn, "and drink up along o' me. My treat."
+
+Hurd nodded and became jovial. "On condition you join me at dinner. They
+make good curries here."
+
+"I've had curry," said Captain Jessop, heavily, "in Colombo and
+Hong-Kong frequent, but Hokar's curries are the best."
+
+"Ah!" said Hurd in a friendly curious way, "so you know this shanty?"
+
+Jessop looked at him with contempt. "Know this shanty," said he, with a
+grin, "why, in coorse, I do. I've been swinging my hammock here time in
+and out for the last thirty year."
+
+"You'll be a Christchurch man, then?"
+
+"Not me, mate. I'm Buckinghamshire. Stowley born."
+
+Hurd with difficulty suppressed a start. Stowley was the place where the
+all-important brooch had been pawned by a nautical man, and here was the
+man in question. "I should have thought you'd lived near the sea," he
+said cautiously, "say Southampton."
+
+"Oh, I used t'go there for my ship," said the captain, draining his
+glass, "but I don't go there no more."
+
+"Retired, eh?"
+
+Jessop nodded and looked at his friend--as he considered Hurd, since the
+invitation to dinner--with a blood-shot pair of eyes. "Come storm, come
+calm," he growled, "I've sailed the ocean for forty years. Yes, sir,
+you bet. I was a slip of a fifteen cabin-boy on my first cruise, and
+then I got on to being skipper. Lord," Jessop smacked his knee, "the
+things I've seen!"
+
+"We'll have them to-night after dinner," said Hurd, nodding; "but now, I
+suppose, you've made your fortune."
+
+"No," said the captain, gloomily, "not what you'd call money. I've got a
+stand-by, though," and he winked.
+
+"Ah! Married to a rich wife?"
+
+"Not me. I've had enough of marriage, having been the skipper of a
+mermaid with a tongue. No, sir," he roared out another line of some song
+floating in his muzzy head, "a saucy bachelor am I," then changed to
+gruff talk, "and I intends being one all my days. Stand-by, I
+have--t'ain't a wife, but I can draw the money regular, and no questions
+asked." Again he winked and drank another glass.
+
+Hurd reflected that perhaps Jessop had killed Aaron Norman for Mrs.
+Krill, and she was paying him blood-money. But he did not dare to press
+the question, as Jessop was coming perilously near what the Irish call
+"the cross drop." He therefore proposed an adjournment to the
+sitting-room. Jessop agreed quite unsuspectingly, not guessing he was
+being trapped. The man was so large and uncouth that Hurd felt behind
+his waist to see that his revolver was loose and could be used should
+occasion arise.
+
+Miss Junk brought in the dinner with her own fair hands, and explained
+that Hokar had made the curry, but she didn't think it was as good as
+usual. "The man's shakin' like a jelly," said Matilda. "I don't know
+why."
+
+The detective nodded, but did not encourage conversation. He was quite
+sure that Hokar was being watched by the smooth-faced policeman, and
+could not get away. Besides, he wished to talk to Captain Jessop. Miss
+Junk, seeing that she was not needed, retreated, after bringing in the
+curry, and left the gentlemen to help themselves. So here was Hurd in a
+pleasant room, seated before a well-spread table, and with a roaring
+fire at his back, waiting his opportunity to make Captain Jarvey Jessop
+confess his share in the dual murders of Lady Rachel Sandal and Aaron
+Norman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+PART OF THE TRUTH
+
+
+Captain Jessop ate as greedily as he drank strong waters, and did full
+justice to the curry, which was really excellent. Hurd did not broach
+any unpleasant topic immediately, as he wished the man to enjoy his
+meal. If Jessop was guilty, this dainty dinner would be the last of its
+kind he would have for many a long day. Moreover, Hurd wished to learn
+more of the mariner's character, and plied him with questions, which the
+unsuspecting sailor answered amiably enough.
+
+"Me an' you might become mates, as it were," said Jessop, extending his
+large hand again and again. "Put it there."
+
+"Well, we'd want to know something more about one another to become real
+mates," laughed Hurd.
+
+"Oh, you're a commercial traveller, as you say, and I'm the captain of
+as fine a barkey as ever sailed under Capricorn. Leastways I was, afore
+I gave up deep-sea voyages."
+
+"You must miss the ocean, living at Stowley."
+
+"Inland it is," admitted the mariner, pulling out a dirty clay pipe, at
+the conclusion of the meal, "and ocean there ain't round about fur
+miles. But I've got a shanty there, and live respectable."
+
+"You are able to, with the stand-by," hinted Hurd.
+
+Jessop nodded and crammed black tobacco, very strong and rank, into the
+bowl of his pipe with a shaking hand. "It ain't much," he admitted;
+"folks being stingy. But if I wants more," he struck the table hard, "I
+can get it. D'ye see, Mister Commercial?"
+
+"Yes, I see," replied Hurd, coolly. Jessop was again growing cross, and
+the detective had to be careful. He knew well enough that next morning,
+when sober, Jessop would not be so disposed to talk, but being muzzy, he
+opened his heart freely. Still, it was evident that a trifle more liquor
+would make him quarrelsome, so Hurd proposed coffee, a proposition to
+which the sailor graciously assented.
+
+"Cawfee," he observed, lighting his pipe, and filling the room with
+evil-smelling smoke, "clears the 'ead, not as mine wants clearing, mind
+you. But cawfee ain't bad, when rum ain't t' be 'ad."
+
+"You'll have more rum later," hinted Hurd.
+
+"Put it there," said Jessop, and again the detective was forced to wince
+at the strong grip of a horny hand.
+
+Miss Junk appeared in answer to the tinkle of the bell and removed the
+food. Afterwards she brought in coffee, hot and strong and black, and
+Jessop drank two cups, with the result that he became quieter. Then the
+two men settled down for a pleasant conversation. At least, Jessop
+thought so, for he frequently expressed the friendliest sentiments
+towards his host. Then Matilda appeared with a bottle of rum, a kettle
+and two glasses. When she departed, Hurd intimated that he would not
+require her services again that night. This he whispered to her at the
+door, while Jessop was placing the kettle on the fire, and before
+returning to his seat, he quietly turned the key. So he had the mariner
+entirely to himself and got to business at once while the kettle boiled.
+
+"You have known this place for years I believe," said Hurd, taking a
+chair opposite to that of Jessop. "Did you ever drop across a man, who
+used to live here, called Lemuel Krill?"
+
+The other man started. "Whatever makes you arsk that?" he inquired in a
+husky voice.
+
+"Well, you see, as a commercial I trade in books, and had to do with a
+second-hand bookseller in Gwynne Street, Drury Lane. It seems that he
+was murdered," and he eyed Jessop attentively.
+
+The sailor nodded and composed himself with a violent effort. "Yes,"
+said he in his husky voice, "so I heard. But what's he got to do with
+Lemuel Krill?"
+
+"Oh," said Hurd, carelessly, "it is said Aaron Norman was Krill."
+
+"Might ha' bin. I don't know myself," was the gruff reply.
+
+"Ah! Then you did not know Lemuel Krill?"
+
+"Well," admitted the captain, reluctantly, "I did. He wos the landlord
+of this here pub, and a cuss to drink. Lor', 'ow he could drink, and did
+too. But he run away from his wife as used to keep this shanty, and she
+never heard no more of him."
+
+"Until she found he was rich and could leave her five thousand a year,"
+said Hurd, absently; "so like a woman."
+
+"You seem to know all about it, mister?" said the sailor, uneasily.
+
+"Yes, I read the papers. A queer case that of Norman's death. I expect
+it was only right he should be strangled seeing he killed Lady Rachel
+Sandal in the same way."
+
+Jessop, resting his hands on the arms of his chair, pushed it back and
+stared with a white face. "You know of that?" he gasped.
+
+"Why not? It was public talk in this place over twenty years ago. I
+understand you have been here-abouts for thirty years," went on Hurd,
+carelessly, "possibly you may recollect the case."
+
+Jessop wiped his forehead. "I heard something about it. That there lady
+committed suicide they say."
+
+"I know what they say, but I want to know what you say?"
+
+"I won't be arsked questions," shouted the captain, angrily.
+
+"Don't raise your voice," said the detective, smoothly; "we may as well
+conduct this conversation pleasantly."
+
+"I don't converse no more," said Jessop in a shaky voice, and staggered
+to his feet, rapidly growing sober under the influence of a deadly fear.
+Hurd did not move as the man crossed the room, but felt if the key was
+safe in his pocket. The sailor tried to open the door, and then realized
+that it was locked. He turned on his host with a volley of bad language,
+and found himself facing a levelled revolver.
+
+"Sit down," said Hurd, quietly; "go back to your chair."
+
+Jessop, with staring eyes and outspread hands, backed to the wall. "Who
+are you anyhow?" he demanded, hardly able to speak.
+
+"Perhaps that will tell you," said Hurd, and threw the warrant on the
+table. Jessop staggered forward and looked at it. One glance was
+sufficient to inform him what it was, and he sank back into his chair
+with a groan, leaving the warrant on the table. Hurd picked it up and
+slipped it into his pocket. He thought Jessop might destroy it; but
+there was no fight in the mariner.
+
+"And now that we understand one another," said Hurd, putting away his
+weapon, "I want to talk."
+
+"Sha'n't talk," said Jessop, savagely.
+
+"Oh, yes, I think so; otherwise I can make things unpleasant for you."
+
+"You can't arrest me. I've done nothing."
+
+"That may be so, but arrest you I can and I have done so now. To-morrow
+morning you will go to London in charge of a plain-clothes policeman,
+while I go to Stowley."
+
+"To my crib. No, I'm blest if you do."
+
+"I sha'n't go immediately to your crib," rejoined Hurd, dryly, "though I
+may do so later. My first visit will be to that old pawnbroker. I think
+if I describe you--and you are rather a noticeable man, Captain
+Jessop--he will recognize the individual who pawned an opal serpent
+brooch with him shortly after the death of Lady Rachel Sandal, to whom
+the said brooch belonged."
+
+"It's a lie," said Jessop hoarsely, and sober enough now.
+
+"Quite so, and perhaps it is also a lie that a man resembling yourself
+tried to get certain jewellery from a lawyer called Pash--"
+
+Jessop lost his self-control, which he was trying desperately to
+preserve, and rose to his feet, white-faced and haggard. "Who are you?"
+he shouted, "who are you?"
+
+"Doesn't the warrant tell you," replied his companion, not at all upset.
+"My name is Billy Hurd. I am the detective in charge of the Norman
+murder case. And I've been looking for you for a long time, Mr. Jessop."
+
+"I know nothing about it."
+
+"Yes, you do; so sit down and talk away."
+
+"I'll break your head," cried the captain, swinging his huge fists.
+
+"Try," Hurd whipped out his revolver, but did not rise, "at the risk of
+getting a bullet through you. Pshaw, man, don't be a fool. I'm making
+things as easy for you as possible. Create a disturbance, and I'll hand
+you over to the police. A night in the village lock-up may cool your
+blood. Sit down I tell you."
+
+The sailor showed his teeth like those of a snarling dog and made as to
+strike the seated detective; but suddenly changing his mind, for he saw
+well enough in what danger he stood, he dropped into his chair, and,
+covering his face with his hands, groaned aloud. Hurd put away his
+revolver. "That's better," said he, pleasantly; "take a tot of rum and
+tell me all you know."
+
+"I'm innocent," groaned Jessop.
+
+"Every man is innocent until convicted by a jury," said Hurd, calmly.
+"Consider me a jury and I'll size up your case, when I hear all. Are you
+innocent of both murders?"
+
+"Lady Rachel committed suicide," said Jessop, raising a haggard face.
+"Yes--I stick to that, sir. As to Krill's death in London, I didn't
+touch him; I swear I didn't."
+
+"But you saw him on that night?"
+
+"How can you prove that?"
+
+"Very simply. Norman--or Krill if you prefer the old name--took certain
+jewellery to Pash for safe keeping shortly before his death. You
+presented to Pash a paper, undeniably written and signed by the old man,
+saying that the jewellery was to be given up to bearer. Now, before
+taking the jewellery to Pash, Krill could not have written that paper,
+so you must have seen him during the few hours which elapsed between his
+visit to Pash and his death."
+
+This was clearly argued, and Jessop could not contradict. "I left him
+quite well and hearty."
+
+"In the cellar in Gwynne Street?"
+
+"Yes, in the cellar," admitted Jessop.
+
+"At what time?"
+
+"About half-past eight--say between eight and nine."
+
+"Well, what happened?" asked Hurd, smoking quietly.
+
+The sailor twisted his big hands and groaned. Then he laid his head on
+the table and began to sob, talking brokenly and huskily. "I'm done
+for," he gasped. "I'd know'd it would come--no--I ain't sorry. I've had
+a nightmare of a time. Oh--since I pawned that brooch--"
+
+"Ah. Then you did pawn the brooch at Stowley?"
+
+Jessop sat up and wiped his eyes. "Yes, I did. But I pulled my cap down
+over my eyes and buttoned up my pea-jacket. I never thought old Tinker
+would ha' knowed me."
+
+"Wasn't it rather rash of you to pawn the brooch in a place where you
+were well known?"
+
+"I wasn't well known. I only come at times, and then I went away. Old
+Tinker hadn't seen me more nor once or twice, and then I pulled down my
+cap and--" Jessop, badly shaken, was beginning to tell the episode over
+again, when Hurd stopped him.
+
+"See here," said the detective. "You say that you are innocent?"
+
+"I swear that I am," gasped Jessop.
+
+"Well, then, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. My business is not
+to hang innocent people. Take a glass of rum and tell me all you know,
+beginning with your first meeting with Krill and running down through
+the death of Lady Rachel to your last meeting in the Gwynne Street
+cellar."
+
+"And when you know all?"
+
+"Then I'll see what is to be done."
+
+"Will you arrest me?"
+
+"I have arrested you. Don't make conditions with me, man," said Hurd,
+with a stern face. "The night is growing late and I want to get to the
+bottom of this business before we go to bed. Take some rum."
+
+Seeing there was nothing for it but to make a clean breast, Captain
+Jarvey Jessop wasted no further time in useless lamentation. He could
+have smashed Hurd easily enough, even though there was the risk of being
+shot. But the fracas would bring others on the scene, and Jessop knew he
+could not deal with the police. Therefore, he took a stiff peg and
+became quieter. In fact, when once started on his confession, he
+appeared to be rather relieved.
+
+"It's been a nightmare," said he, wiping his forehead. "I'm glad it's
+come to the lawr, that I am. I met Krill, as he wos then, some
+twenty-five year back by chance, as you may say"--he cast a strange look
+at the detective, which the latter noted--"yes, by chance, Mr. Hurd. I
+found he kep' the pub here, and this bein' no distance from Southampton
+I took to runnin' down here when the barkey was at anchor. Me an' Krill
+became great mates, and I'd what you might call free quarters here--yes,
+sir--it's a frozen fact."
+
+"Very generous of Mr. Krill," remarked Hurd, dryly, and wondering what
+the man was keeping back.
+
+"Oh, he was right enough as a mate when not drunk; but the liquor made a
+howling dorg of him. I've seen many drunk in many places," said Jessop,
+"but anyone who held his liquor wuss nor Krill I never did see. He'd
+knife you as soon as look at you when drunk."
+
+"But he evidently preferred strangling."
+
+"Hold on, mate," said Jessop, with another deep pull at the rum. "I'm
+comin' to that night. We wos both on the bust, as y'may say, and Mrs.
+Krill she didn't like it, so got to bed with the child."
+
+"How old was the child?"
+
+"Maud? Oh, you might say she was thirteen or fifteen. I can't be sure of
+her age. What's up?"
+
+For Hurd, seeing in this admission a confirmation that Maud was either
+not Krill's child or was illegitimate, and could not inherit the money,
+had showed his feelings. However, he made some trivial excuse, not
+wishing to be too confidential, and begged Jessop to proceed.
+
+"Well, mate," said the captain, filling another glass of rum, "y'see
+the lady had come earlier and had been put to bed by the missus. I never
+saw her myself, being drinking in this very room along o' Krill. But
+_he_ saw her," added Jessop, emphatically, "and said as she'd a fine
+opal brooch, which he wish he'd had, as he wanted money and the missus
+kept him tight."
+
+"Krill was a judge of jewels?"
+
+"Travelled in jewels once," said the captain. "Bless you, he could size
+up a precious stone in no time. But he sat drinking with me, and every
+now and then got out of the room, when he'd stop away for perhaps a
+quarter of an hour at the time."
+
+"Did he mention the opal brooch again?"
+
+"No," said Jessop, after reflection, "he didn't. But he got so drunk
+that he began to show fight, as he always did when boozy, though a timid
+chap when sober. I concluded, wishing no row, to git to my hammock, and
+cut up stairs. Then I went by mistake into the room of that pore lady,
+carrying a candle, and saw her tied to the bedpost stone dead, with a
+silk handkerchief round her neck. I shouted out blue murder, and Mrs.
+Krill with the kid came tumbling down. I was so feared," added Jessop,
+wiping his forehead at the recollection, "that I ran out of doors."
+
+"What good would that do?"
+
+"Lor', I dunno," confessed the man, shivering, "but I wos skeered out of
+my life. It wos rainin' pitchforks, as y'might say, and I raced on
+through the rain for an hour or so. Then I thought, as I wos innocent,
+I'd make tracks back, and I did. I found Krill had cut."
+
+"Did his wife tell you?"
+
+"Oh, she wos lying on the floor insensible where he'd knocked her down.
+And the kid--lor'," Jessop spat, "she was lying in the corner with her
+lips fastened together with the brooch."
+
+"What?" cried Hurd, starting to his feet. "The same as her--the same as
+Norman's was?"
+
+Jessop nodded and drank some rum. "Made me sick it did. I took th'
+brooch away and slipped it into my pocket. Then the kid said her father
+had fastened her lips together and had knocked her mother flat when she
+interfered. I brought Mrs. Krill round and then left her with the kid,
+and walked off to Southampton. The police found me there, and I told
+them what I tell you."
+
+"Did you tell about the brooch?"
+
+"Well, no, I didn't," confessed Jessop, coolly, "an' as the kid and the
+mother said nothing, I didn't see why I shouldn't keep it, wantin'
+money. So I went to Stowley and pawned it, then took a deep sea voyage
+for a year. When I come back, all was over."
+
+"Do you think Krill murdered the woman?" asked Hurd, passing over for
+the moment the fact that Jessop had stolen the brooch.
+
+"He said he didn't," rejoined the man with emphasis, "but I truly
+believe, mister, as he did, one of them times, when mad with drink and
+out of the room. He wanted the brooch, d'ye see, though why he should
+have lost the loot by sealin' the kid's mouth with it I can't say."
+
+"When did you come across Krill again?"
+
+"Ho," said Jessop, drawing his hand across his mouth, "'twas this way,
+d'ye see. I come round here lots, and a swell come too, a cold--"
+
+"Grexon Hay," said Hurd, pointing to the photograph.
+
+"Yes. That's him," said Jessop, staring, "and I hated him just, with his
+eye-glass and his sneerin' ways. He loved the kid, now a growed, fine
+gal, as you know, and come here often. In June--at the end of it
+anyhow--he comes and I hears him tells Mrs. Krill, who was always
+looking for her husband, that a one-eyed bookseller in Gwynne Street,
+Drury Lane, had fainted when he saw the very identical brooch showed him
+by another cove."
+
+"Beecot. I know. Didn't you wonder how the brooch had left the
+pawnshop?" asked Hurd, very attentive.
+
+"No, I didn't," snarled Jessop, who was growing cross. "I knew old
+Tinker's assistant had sold the brooch and he didn't oughter t' have
+done it, as I wanted it back. Mrs. Krill asked me about the brooch, and
+wanted it, so I said I'd get it back. Tinker said it was gone, but wrote
+to the gent as bought it."
+
+"Mr. Simon Beecot, of Wargrove, in Essex."
+
+"That wos him; but the gent wouldn't give it back, so I 'spose he'd
+given it to his son. Well, then, when Mrs. Krill heard of the one-eyed
+man fainting at sight of the brooch, she knew 'twas her husband, as he'd
+one eye, she having knocked the other out when he was sober."
+
+"Did she go up and see him?"
+
+"Well," said Jessop, slowly, "I don't rightly know what she did do, but
+she went up. I don't think she saw Krill at his shop, but she might have
+seen that Pash, who was Mr. Hay's lawyer, and a dirty little ape o'
+sorts he is."
+
+"Ha," said Hurd, to himself, "I thought Pash knew about the women
+beforehand. No wonder he stuck to them and gave poor Miss Norman the
+go-bye," he rubbed his hands and chuckled. "Well, we'll see what will
+come of the matter. Go on, Jessop."
+
+"There ain't much more to tell," grumbled the captain. "I heard of this,
+and I wasn't meant to hear. But I thought I'd go up and see if I could
+get money out of Krill by saying I'd tell about the murder of Lady
+Rachel."
+
+"You _are_ a scoundrel," said Hurd, coolly.
+
+"I wos 'ard up," apologized the captain, "or I wouldn't, not me. I'm
+straight enough when in cash. So I went up in July."
+
+"On the sixth of July?"
+
+"If that was the day of the murder--yes. I went up and loafed round
+until it wos dark, and then slipped through that side passage at eight
+o'clock to see Krill."
+
+"How did you know where to find him?"
+
+"Why, that Hay knew about the chap, and said as he did business in a
+cellar after eight. So Krill let me in, thinking, I 'spose, I wos a
+customer. He'd been drinking a little and was bold enough. But when I
+said, as I'd say, he'd killed Lady Rachel, he swore he was an innercent
+babe, and cried, the drink dyin' out of him."
+
+"The same as it died out of you lately," said Hurd, smiling.
+
+"Go slow," grunted the captain, in a surly tone. "I ain't afraid now, as
+I ain't done nothing. I said to Krill I'd say nothin' if he'd give me
+money. He wouldn't, but said he'd placed a lot of pawned things with
+Pash, and I could have them. He then gave me a paper saying I was to
+have the things, and I went to Pash the next morning and had trouble.
+But I heard by chance," again Jessop cast a strange look at Hurd, "that
+Krill had been murdered, so I didn't wait for the lawyer to come back,
+but cut down to Southampton and went on a short voyage. Then I come here
+and you nabbed me," and Jessop finished his rum. "That's all I know."
+
+"Do you swear you left Aaron Norman alive?"
+
+"Meaning Krill? I do. He wasn't no use to me dead, and I made him give
+me the jewels Pash had, d'ye see."
+
+"But who warned you of the death when you were waiting?"
+
+Jessop seemed unwilling to speak, but when pressed burst out, "'Twas a
+measily little kid with ragged clothes and a dirty face."
+
+"Tray," said Hurd. "Hum! I wonder how he knew of the murder before it
+got into the papers?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+MISS QIAN'S PARTY
+
+
+Hurd's sister was a clever young woman who in her time had played many
+parts. She began her career along with Hurd as a private detective, but
+when her brother joined the official service, Miss Hurd thought she
+would better her position by appearing on the stage, and, therefore,
+took the rather queer name of Aurora Qian. In her detective capacity she
+had often disguised herself when employed in obtaining evidence, and was
+remarkably talented in changing her face and figure. This art she used
+with great success in her new profession, and speedily made her mark as
+an impersonator of various characters out of novels. As Becky Sharp, as
+Little Dorrit, she was said to be inimitable, and after playing under
+several managements, she started, in the phrase of the profession, "a
+show of her own," and rapidly made money.
+
+But her great faults amongst others were vanity and extravagance, so she
+was always in need of money, and when chance offered, through her
+brother, to make any, she was not averse to returning to the spy
+business. Thus it came about that she watched Mr. Grexon Hay for many a
+long day and night, and he never suspected the pretty, fluffy, kittenish
+Miss Qian was in reality an emissary of the law. Consequently, when
+Aurora asked him to a card-party at her rooms, Hay accepted readily
+enough, although he was not in need of money at the time.
+
+Miss Qian occupied a tiny flat on the top of a huge pile of buildings in
+Kensington, and it was furnished in a gimcrack way, with more show than
+real value, and with more color than taste. Every room was of a
+different hue, with furniture and hangings to match. The drawing-room
+was pink, the dining-room green, her bedroom blue, the entrance hall
+yellow, and the extra sleeping apartment used by her companion, Miss
+Stably, was draped in purple. Some wit called the flat "the paint-box,"
+and indeed so varied were its hues that it was not a bad title to give
+it.
+
+Like the Becky Sharp whom she impersonated with such success, Miss Qian
+possessed a sheep-dog, not because she needed one, being very well able
+to look after herself, but because it sounded and looked respectable.
+Miss Stably, who filled this necessary office, was a dull old lady who
+dressed excessively badly, and devoted her life to knitting shawls. What
+she did with these when completed no one ever knew: but she was always
+to be found with two large wooden pins rapidly weaving the fabric for
+some unknown back. She talked very little, and when she did speak, it
+was to agree with her sharp little mistress. To make up for speaking
+little, she ate a great deal, and after dinner with her eternal knitting
+in her bony hands and a novel on her lap, was entirely happy. She was
+one of those neutral-tinted people, who seem not good enough for heaven
+and not sufficiently bad for the other place. Aurora often wondered what
+would become of Miss Stably when she departed this life, and left her
+knitting behind her. The old lady herself never gave the matter a
+thought, but lived a respectable life of knitting and eating and novel
+reading, with a regular visit to church on Sunday where she worshipped
+without much idea of what the service was about.
+
+This sort of person exactly suited Miss Qian, who wanted a sheep-dog who
+could neither bark nor bite, and who could be silent. These
+qualifications were possessed by the old lady, and for some years she
+had trailed through a rather giddy world at Aurora's heels. In her own
+dull way she was fond of the young woman, but was far from suspecting
+that Aurora was connected in an underhand manner with the law. That
+knowledge would indeed have shaken Miss Stably to the soul, as she had a
+holy dread of the law, and always avoided the police-court column when
+she read the newspapers.
+
+This was the old lady who sat in the pink drawing-room to play propriety
+for Miss Qian. Lord George Sandal was present, looking rather washed
+out, but as gentlemanly as ever. Hay, with his fixed eye-glass and
+eternally cold smile was there, and a third young man, who adored Miss
+Qian, thinking her to be merely an actress, simpered across the
+card-table at his goddess. The four were playing a game which involved
+the gaining and losing of much money, and they had been engaged for
+about an hour. Miss Stably having eaten a good dinner and commenced a
+new shawl was half dosing in the corner, and paying absolutely no
+attention to the players.
+
+"It's a good thing we're hanging on our own hooks in this game," said
+Miss Qian, who smoked a dainty cigarette. "Were I your partner, Sandal,"
+she always addressed her friends in this free-and-easy fashion, "I'd be
+losing money. What luck you have!"
+
+"I never do seem to win," lamented Lord George. "Whenever I think I've
+got a good hand, the thing pans out wrong."
+
+"Hay has got all the money," said the simpering admirer who answered to
+the name of Tempest. "He and you, Miss Qian, are the winners."
+
+"I've made very little," she replied. "Hay's raking in the dollars hand
+over fist."
+
+"Lucky in love, unlucky at cards," said Hay, who did not like his good
+fortune to be commented upon, for reasons which Miss Qian knew. "It's
+the reverse with me--I'm lucky at cards--"
+
+"And lucky in love, too," interrupted Aurora, with a grimace, "seeing
+you're going to marry that Krill heiress--if she is an heiress."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Hay, who was dealing a new round.
+
+"Go on with the game and don't ask questions," said Miss Qian, in a
+saucy manner. "Sandal, don't stare round, but keep your eye on the
+cards," and she winked stealthily at the young lord, while Hay was
+exchanging a word with Tempest. The young man, who had spoken privately
+to her immediately before the dinner, knew well what she meant. Had Hay
+been likewise "in the know," he would scarcely have done what he did do,
+and which Sandal saw him do in a few minutes.
+
+Hay was rapidly dealing, and the cards were flying like leaves. A pile
+of gold stood beside Hay's elbow, and some silver near Tempest. The game
+commenced, and soon the players were engrossed, heedless of the patent
+snoring of Miss Stably, who, poor old thing, had succumbed to the
+lateness of the hour. Suddenly Lord George, who had been very vigilant,
+felt his foot touched under the table by Miss Qian. He rose at once and
+snatched up the gold standing near Hay.
+
+"What's that for?" demanded Hay, angrily.
+
+"You're cheating," said Sandal, "and I don't play with you any more."
+
+"That's a lie. I did not cheat."
+
+"Yes, you did," cried Miss Qian, bending forward and seizing the cards;
+"we've been watching you. Tempest--"
+
+"I saw it all right," said the other. "You took up that king--"
+
+"And it's marked," said Aurora. "I believe Hay's got cards up his
+sleeve. Examine the cards."
+
+Hay, very pale, but still keeping his countenance, tried to object, but
+the two young men seized and held him, while Miss Qian, with a dexterity
+acquired in detective circles, rapidly searched his pockets.
+
+"Here's another pack," she cried, and shook an ace and two kings out of
+the detected swindler's sleeve, "and these cards--"
+
+Sandal took one and went to the lamp. "Marked, by Jove!" he cried, but
+with a stronger oath; "here's a pin-prick."
+
+"You are mistaken," began Hay, quite pale.
+
+"No," said Tempest, coolly, "we're not. Miss Qian told us you cheated,
+and we laid a trap for you. You've been trying this double card and
+marked card dodge several times this very evening."
+
+"And he's tried it lots of times before," said Aurora, quickly. "I have
+been at several places where Hay scooped the pool, and it was all
+cheating."
+
+"If it was," said Hay, with quivering lips, "why didn't you denounce me
+then and there?"
+
+"Because I denounce you now," she said; "you're cooked, my man. These
+boys will see that the matter is made public."
+
+"By Jove, yes!" cried Sandal, with a look of abhorrence at Hay, "and
+I'll prosecute you to get back those thousands you won off me."
+
+"I never did--"
+
+"You've been rooking this boy for months," cried Miss Qian. "Here,
+Tempest, get a constable. We'll give him in charge for swindling."
+
+"No! no!" cried Hay, his nerve giving way under the threatened
+exposure; "you'll have your money back, Sandal, I swear."
+
+"Lord George to you now, you blackguard; and how can you pay me the
+money when I know you haven't got a cent?"
+
+"He intends to get it from the heiress," sniggered Aurora.
+
+"Oh, dear me!" rose the plaintive voice of the sheep-dog, "what is it,
+Aurora? Anything wrong?"
+
+"We've caught Hay cheating, that's all, and the police--"
+
+"Oh, Aurora, don't bring up the police."
+
+"No, don't," said Hay, who was now trembling. "I'll do whatever you
+like. Don't show me up--I'm--I'm going to be married soon."
+
+"No, you sha'n't marry," cried Tempest, sharply; "I'll see this girl
+myself and save her from you."
+
+"You can't prove that I cheated," said Hay, desperately.
+
+"Yes, we can," said George. "I, and Miss Qian, and Tempest all saw you
+cheat, and Miss Qian has the marked cards."
+
+"But don't expose me. I--I--" Hay broke down and turned away with a look
+of despair on his face. He cursed himself inwardly for having ventured
+to cheat when things, by the marriage with Maud Krill, would have soon
+been all right for him. "Miss Qian," he cried in a tone of agony, "give
+me another chance."
+
+Aurora, playing her own game, of which the two young men were ignorant,
+appeared to repent. She beckoned to Miss Stably. "Take Mr. Hay into the
+dining-room," she said, "and I'll see what I can do. But you try and
+bolt, Hay, and the news will be all over the West End to-morrow."
+
+"I'll stop," said Hay, whose face was colorless, and, without another
+word, he followed the sheep-dog into the dining-room in an agony of mind
+better imagined than described. Then Miss Qian turned her attention to
+her guests:
+
+"See here, boys," she said frankly, "this is a dirty business, and I
+don't want to be mixed up with it."
+
+"But Hay should be exposed," insisted Sandal; "he's been rooking me, I
+do believe, for months."
+
+"Serve you jolly well right," said Aurora, heartlessly. "I warned you
+again and again against him. But if there's a row, where do I come in?"
+
+"It won't hurt you," said Tempest, eagerly.
+
+"Oh, won't it? Gambling in my flat, and all the rest of it. You boys may
+think me free and easy but I'm straight. No one can say a word against
+me. I'm not going to be made out an adventuress and a bad woman for the
+sake of that swindler, Hay. So you boys will just hold your tongues."
+
+"No," said Sandal, "my money--"
+
+"Oh, bother your money. One would think you were a Jew. I'll see that
+Hay pays it back. He's going to marry this Krill girl, and she's able to
+supply the cash."
+
+"But the girl shouldn't be allowed to marry Hay," said Tempest.
+
+"Don't you burn your fingers with other people's fire," said Aurora,
+sharply. "This girl's in love with him and will marry him in spite of
+everything. But I don't care a cent for that. It's myself I'm thinking
+of. If I get your money back, Sandal, will you hold your tongue?"
+
+Lord George, thinking of what his noble father would say were he
+involved in a card scandal connected with an actress, thought it just as
+well to agree. "Yes," said he, hesitatingly, "I'll not say a word, if
+you get the money back. But don't you let Hay speak to me again in
+public or I'll kick him."
+
+"That's your affair and his," said Aurora, delighted at having gained
+her point; "but you hold your tongue, and you, Tempest?"
+
+"I'll not say a word either," said the young man, with a shrug, "though
+I don't see why you should save this blackguard's reputation."
+
+"It's my own I'm thinking of, so don't you make any mistake. And now I
+have both your promises?"
+
+"Yes," said Sandal and Tempest, thinking it best to hush the matter up;
+"but Hay--"
+
+"I'll see to him. You two boys clear out and go home to bed."
+
+"But we can't leave you alone with Hay," said Tempest.
+
+"I'll not be alone with him," cried the little woman, imperiously; "my
+companion is with me. What do you mean?"
+
+"He might do you some harm."
+
+"Oh! might he? You take me for a considerable idiot, I suppose. You get
+along, boys, and leave me to fix up things."
+
+Both young men protested again; but Aurora, anxious for her conversation
+with Hay, bundled them out of the flat and banged the door to, when she
+heard them whistling below for a hansom. Then she went to the
+dining-room.
+
+"You come along to the drawing-room," she said to Hay. "Miss Stably,
+stop here."
+
+"I haven't got my shawl," bleated the old lady.
+
+"Oh, bother," Aurora ran to the other room, snatched up the shawl and
+saw Miss Stably sitting down to knit, while she led Hay back into the
+drawing-room. He looked round when he entered.
+
+"Where are they?" he asked, sitting down.
+
+"Gone; but it's all right. I've made them promise not to say--"
+
+Grexon Hay didn't let her finish. He fell on his knees and kissed her
+hand. His face was perfectly white, but his eyes were full of gratitude
+as he babbled his thanks. No one could have accused him of being cold
+then. But Miss Qian did not approve of this emotion, natural though it
+was.
+
+"Here, get up," she said, snatching her hand away. "I've got to speak
+straight to you. I've done a heap for you, now you've got to do a heap
+for me."
+
+"Anything--anything," said Hay, whose face was recovering its normal
+color. "You have saved me--you have."
+
+"And much of a thing you are to save. You'll be cheating again in a week
+or so."
+
+"No," cried Hay, emphatically, "I swear I'll not touch a card again.
+I'll marry Maud and turn respectable. Oh, what a lesson I've had! You
+are sure those fellows won't speak?"
+
+"No. That's all right. You can go on swindling as before, only," Miss
+Qian raised a finger, "you'll have to pay Sandal back some cash."
+
+"I'll do that. Maud will lend me the money. Does he want all?"
+
+"Oh, a couple of thousand will shut his mouth. I'll not see you left.
+It's all right, so sit up and don't shake there like a jelly."
+
+"You're very kind to me," said Hay, faintly.
+
+"Don't you make any mistake. So far as I am concerned you might stick in
+the mud forever. I helped you, because I want you to help me. I'm in
+want of money--"
+
+"I'll give you some."
+
+"Picked from that girl's pockets," said Aurora, dryly, "no, thank you.
+It might dirty my fingers. Listen--there's a reward offered for the
+discovery of the murderer of Aaron Norman. I want to get that thousand
+pounds, and you can help me to."
+
+Hay started to his feet with amazement. Of all the requests she was
+likely to make he never thought it would be such a one. "Aaron Norman's
+murder," he said, "what do you know of that?"
+
+"Very little, but you know a lot."
+
+"I don't, I swear I don't."
+
+"Pish," said Miss Qian, imperiously, "remember I've got the whip-hand,
+my boy. Just you tell me how Mrs. Krill came to strangle the--"
+
+"Mrs. Krill?" Hay turned white again, and his eye-glass fell. "She had
+nothing to do with the matter. I swear--"
+
+"Strikes me you swear too much, Mr. Hay. What about that opal brooch you
+stole from Beecot when he had the smash?"
+
+"I didn't steal it. I never saw it at the time of the accident."
+
+"Then you got that boy Tray to steal it."
+
+"I knew nothing about the boy. Besides, why should I steal that opal
+serpent brooch?"
+
+"You wanted to buy it from Beecot, anyhow?"
+
+Hay looked puzzled. "Yes, for a lady."
+
+"Mrs. Krill?"
+
+"I admit that Mrs. Krill wanted it. She had associations connected with
+that brooch."
+
+"I know," interrupted Aurora, glancing at the clock, "don't waste time
+in talking of Lady Rachel Sandal's death--"
+
+"How do you know about that?" stammered Hay, completely nonplussed.
+
+"I know a mighty lot of things. I may as well tell you," added Miss
+Qian, coolly, "since you daren't split, that I've got a lot to do with
+the secret detective service business. I'm helping another to hunt out
+evidence for this case, and I guess you know a lot."
+
+The man quailed. He knew that he did not stand well with the police and
+dreaded what this little fluffy woman should do. Aurora read his
+thoughts. "Yes," she said, "we know a heap about you at the Scotland
+Yard Office, and if you don't tell me all you know, I'll make things hot
+for you. This cheating to-night is only one thing. I know you are 'a
+man on the market,' Mr. Hay."
+
+"What do you wish to hear?" asked Hay, collapsing.
+
+"All about Mrs. Krill's connection with this murder."
+
+"She has nothing to do with it. Really, she hasn't. Aaron Norman was her
+husband right enough--"
+
+"And he ran away from her over twenty years ago. But who told Mrs. Krill
+about him?"
+
+"I did," confessed Hay, volubly and seeing it was best for him to make a
+clean breast of it. "I met the Krills three years ago when I was at
+Bournemouth. They lived in Christchurch, you know."
+
+"Yes. Hotel-keepers. Well, what then?"
+
+"I fell in love with Maud and went to Christchurch to stop at 'The Red
+Pig.' She loved me, and in a year we became engaged. But I had no money
+to marry her, and she had none either. Then Mrs. Krill told me of her
+husband and of the death of Lady Rachel."
+
+"Murder or suicide?"
+
+"Suicide, Mrs. Krill said," replied Hay, frankly. "She told me also
+about the opal brooch and described it. I met Beecot by chance and
+greeted him as an old school-fellow. He took me to his attic and to my
+surprise showed me the opal brooch. I wanted to buy it for Mrs. Krill,
+but Beecot would not sell it. When next I met him, he told me that Aaron
+Norman had fainted when he saw the brooch. I thought this odd, and
+informed Mrs. Krill. She described the man to me, and especially said
+that he had but one eye. I went with Beecot to the Gwynne Street shop,
+and a single glance told me that Aaron Norman was Lemuel Krill. I told
+his wife, and she wanted to come up at once. But I knew that Aaron was
+reported rich--which I had heard through Pash--and as he was my lawyer,
+I suggested that the Krills should go and see him."
+
+"Which they did, before the murder?"
+
+"Yes. Pash was astonished, and when he heard that Mrs. Krill was the
+real wife, he saw that Aaron Norman, as he called himself, had committed
+bigamy, and that Sylvia--"
+
+"Yes, you needn't say it," said Miss Qian, angrily, "she's worth a dozen
+of that girl you are going to marry. But why did you pretend to meet
+Mrs. Krill and her daughter for the first time at Pash's?"
+
+"To blind Beecot. We were standing at the door when the two came out,
+and I pretended to see them for the first time. Then I told Beecot that
+I had been introduced to Maud at Pash's office. He's a clever chap,
+Beecot, and, being engaged to Sylvia Norman, I thought he might find out
+too much."
+
+"About the murder?"
+
+Hay rose and looked solemn. "I swear I know nothing of that," he said
+decidedly, "and the Krills were as astonished as I, when they heard of
+the death. They were going to see him by Pash's advice, and Mrs. Krill
+was going to prosecute him for bigamy unless he allowed her a good
+income. Death put an end to all that, so she made up the story of seeing
+the hand-bills, and then of course the will gave the money to Maud, who
+was engaged to me."
+
+"The will or what was called a will, gave the money to Sylvia," said
+Aurora, emphatically; "but this brooch--you didn't take it?"
+
+"No, I swear I didn't. Mrs. Krill wanted it, but I never knew it was of
+any particular importance. Certainly, I would never have risked robbing
+Beecot, and I never told that boy Tray to rob either."
+
+"Then who took the brooch."
+
+"I can't say. I have told you all I know."
+
+"Hum," said Aurora, just like her brother, "that will do to-night; but
+if I ask any more questions you'll have to answer, so now you can go. By
+the way, I suppose the brooch made you stick to Beecot?"
+
+"Yes," said Hay, frankly; "he was of no use to me. But while he had the
+brooch I stuck to him to get it for Mrs. Krill."
+
+"Queer," said Aurora. "I wonder why she wanted it so much!" but this
+question Hay was unable to answer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+FURTHER EVIDENCE
+
+
+After all, Hurd did not send Jessop to town as he threatened to do.
+Evidently the captain had told him all he knew, and appeared to be
+innocent of Krill's death. But, in spite of his apparent frankness the
+detective had an idea that something was being kept back, and what that
+something might be, he determined to find out. However, his thoughts
+were turned in another direction by a note from Beecot addressed to him
+at "The Red Pig," asking him to come at once to the Jubileetown Laundry.
+"I believe we have discovered the person who stole the opal brooch from
+me," wrote Paul, "and Deborah has made a discovery connected with Norman
+which may prove to be of service."
+
+Wondering what the discovery might be, and wondering also who had taken
+the brooch, Hurd arranged that Jessop and Hokar should remain at
+Christchurch under the eyes of two plain-clothes officials. These
+managed their duties so dexterously that Matilda Junk was far from
+guessing what was going on. Moreover, she informed the detective, who
+she thought was a commercial gent, that she intended to pay a visit to
+her sister, Mrs. Tawsey, and demanded the address, which Hurd gave
+readily enough. He thought that if Matilda knew anything--such as the
+absence of Mrs. Krill from the hotel during the early part of
+July--Deborah might induce her to talk freely.
+
+Hokar had proved a difficult subject. Whether he was too grateful to
+Mrs. Krill to speak out, or whether he really did not understand what
+was asked of him, he certainly showed a talent for holding his tongue.
+However, Hurd saw well enough that the man was afraid of the Sahib's
+law, and when matters came to a crisis would try and prove his innocence
+even at the cost of implicating others. Therefore, with an easy mind the
+detective left these two witnesses being watched at Christchurch and
+repaired to town, where Aurora informed him of the interview with Hay.
+Billy approved of the way in which his sister had managed matters.
+
+"I guessed that Hay was the man who put Mrs. Krill on the track of her
+husband," he said, with satisfaction; "but I wasn't quite sure how he
+spotted the man."
+
+"Oh, the one eye identified him," said Aurora, who was eating chocolate
+as usual, "and Norman's fainting at the sight of the brooch confirmed
+Hay's belief as to who he was. I wonder he didn't make a bargain with
+Norman on his own."
+
+Hurd shook his head. "It wouldn't have paid so well," said he, wisely.
+"Norman would have parted only with a small sum, whereas this murder
+will bring in Hay a clear five thousand a year when he marries the girl.
+Hay acted cleverly enough."
+
+"But I tell you Hay has nothing to do with the murder."
+
+"That may be so, though I don't trust him. But Mrs. Krill might have
+strangled her husband so as to get the money."
+
+"What makes you think she did?" asked Aurora, doubtfully.
+
+"Well, you see, from what Jessop says, Mrs. Krill is devotedly attached
+to Maud, and she may have been anxious to revenge her daughter on Krill.
+He acted like a brute and fastened the child's lips together, so Mrs.
+Krill treated him in the same way."
+
+"Hum," said Miss Qian, reflectively, "but can you prove that Mrs. Krill
+was in town on the night of the murder?"
+
+"That's what I'm going to find out," said Hurd. "All you have to do is
+to keep your eyes on Hay--"
+
+"Oh, he won't cut, if that's what you mean. He thinks everything is
+square, now that I've got those boys to stop chattering. He'll marry
+Maud and annex the money."
+
+"He may marry Maud," said Hurd, emphatically, "but he certainly won't
+get the five thousand a year. Miss Norman will."
+
+"Hold on," cried Aurora, shrewdly. "Maud may not be Lemuel Krill's
+child, or she may have been born before Krill married the mother, but in
+any case, Sylvia Norman isn't the child of a legal marriage. Krill
+certainly committed bigamy, so his daughter Sylvia can't inherit."
+
+"Well," said Hurd, "I can't say. I'll see Pash about the matter. After
+all, the will left the money to 'my daughter,' and that Sylvia is beyond
+doubt, whatever Maud may be. And I say, Aurora, just you go down to
+Stowley in Buckinghamshire. I haven't time to look into matters there
+myself."
+
+"What do you want me to do there?"
+
+"Find out all about the life of Mrs. Krill before she married Krill and
+came to Christchurch. She's the daughter of a farmer. You'll find the
+name in this." Hurd passed along a copy of the marriage certificate
+which Mrs. Krill had given to Pash. "Anne Tyler is her maiden name. Find
+out what you can. She was married to Krill at Beechill, Bucks."
+
+Miss Qian took the copy of the certificate and departed, grumbling at
+the amount of work she had to do to earn her share of the reward. Hurd,
+on his part, took the underground train to Liverpool Street Station, and
+then travelled to Jubileetown. He arrived there at twelve o'clock and
+was greeted by Paul.
+
+"I've been watching for you all the morning," said Beecot, who looked
+flushed and eager. "Sylvia and I have made such a discovery."
+
+Hurd nodded good-humoredly as he entered the house and shook hands with
+the girl.
+
+"Miss Norman has been doing some detective business on her own account,"
+he said, smiling. "Hullo, who is this?"
+
+He made this remark, because Mrs. Purr, sitting in a corner of the room
+with red eyes, rose and dropped a curtsey.
+
+"I'm called to tell you what I do tell on my Bible oath," said Mrs.
+Purr, with fervor.
+
+"Mrs. Purr can give some valuable evidence," said Paul, quickly.
+
+"Oh, can she? Then I'll hear what she has to say later. First, I must
+clear the ground by telling you and Miss Norman what I have discovered
+at Christchurch."
+
+So Mrs. Purr, rather unwillingly, for she felt the importance of her
+position, was bundled out of the room, and Hurd sat down to relate his
+late adventures. This he did clearly and slowly, and was interrupted
+frequently by exclamations of astonishment from his two hearers. "So
+there," said the detective, when finishing, "you have the beginning of
+the end."
+
+"Then you think that Mrs. Krill killed her husband?" asked Paul,
+dubiously.
+
+"I can't say for certain," was the cautious reply; "but I think so, on
+the face of the evidence which you have heard. What do you say?"
+
+"Don't say anything," said Sylvia, before Paul could reply. "Mr. Hurd
+had better read this paper. It was found by Deborah in an old box
+belonging to my father, which was brought from Gwynne Street."
+
+She gave the detective several sheets of blue foolscap pinned together
+and closely written in the shaky handwriting of Aaron Norman. Hurd
+looked at it rather dubiously. "What is it?" he asked.
+
+"The paper referred to in that unfinished scrap of writing which was
+discovered behind the safe," explained Paul. "Norman evidently wrote it
+out, and placed it in his pocket, where he forgot it. Deborah found it
+in an old coat, she discovered in a box of clothes brought from Gwynne
+Street. They were Norman's clothes and his box, and should have been
+left behind."
+
+"Debby won't hear of that," said Sylvia, laughing. "She says Mrs. Krill
+has got quite enough, and she took all she could."
+
+"What's all this writing about?" asked Hurd, turning over the
+closely-written sheets. "To save time you had better give me a précis of
+the matter. Is it important?"
+
+"Very I should say," responded Paul, emphatically. "It contains an
+account of Norman's life from the time he left Christchurch."
+
+"Hum." Hurd's eyes brightened. "I'll read it at my leisure, but at the
+present moment you might say what you can."
+
+"Well, you know a good deal of it," said Paul, who did the talking at a
+sign from Sylvia. "It seems that Norman--we'd better stick to the old
+name--left Christchurch because he was afraid of being accused of
+murdering Lady Rachel."
+
+"Was she really murdered?"
+
+"Norman doesn't say. He swears he knows nothing about the matter. The
+first intimation he had was when Jessop came down with the news after
+blundering into the wrong bedroom. But he hints that Mrs. Krill killed
+her."
+
+"Can he prove that?"
+
+"No. He can't give any proof, or, at all events, he doesn't. He declares
+that when his wife and daughter--"
+
+"Oh! does he call Maud his daughter?"
+
+"Yes! We can talk of that later," said Paul, impatiently. "Well, then,
+Norman says he went fairly mad. Jessop had bolted, but Norman knew he
+would not give the alarm, since he might be accused himself of killing
+Lady Rachel. Maud, who had seen the body, wanted to run out and call the
+neighbors."
+
+"How old does Norman say she was?"
+
+"About fifteen; quite old enough to make things unpleasant."
+
+"Then she can't inherit the money," said Hurd, decisively.
+
+"No," cried Beecot, quickly, "both Sylvia and I think so. But to go on
+with Norman's confession. He would not let Maud go. She began to scream,
+and he feared lest she should alarm the neighbors. He tied a
+handkerchief across her lips, but she got free, and again began to
+scream. Then he cruelly fastened her lips together with the opal
+brooch."
+
+"Where did he get that, if innocent?"
+
+"He declared that he spied it on the floor of the sitting-room, near his
+wife's feet, and then hints that she strangled Lady Rachel to get it and
+turn it into money as she was desperately in need of cash for Maud. Mrs.
+Krill idolized the child."
+
+"I know that," snapped Hurd. "Go on."
+
+"When Norman fastened the child's lips together, Mrs. Krill threw
+herself on him in a rage. He knocked her insensible, and then ran away.
+He walked through the night, until, at dawn, he came to a distant
+railway station. There he took a ticket and went to London. He
+concealed himself until there was no chance of his being discovered, and
+besides, saw the verdict of the jury in the newspapers. But he was
+determined he would not go back to his wife, because she threatened
+him."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Ah," said Paul, while Sylvia shuddered, "in a strange way. When he
+fastened the child's lips together, Mrs. Krill said that she would do
+the same to him one day and with the same brooch."
+
+Hurd uttered an exclamation. "So that was why she wanted the brooch so
+much?" he exclaimed eagerly.
+
+"Yes. And she told Hay she wanted it though she did not reveal her
+reason. She said if she got the brooch he would be allowed to marry
+Maud, with whom Hay was deeply in love. Hay stumbled across me by
+accident, and I happened to have the brooch. The rest you know."
+
+"No," said Hurd, "I don't know how the brooch came into the possession
+of Mrs. Krill again, to use in the cruel way she threatened."
+
+"Well," said Sylvia, quickly, "we aren't sure if Mrs. Krill _did_ get
+the brooch."
+
+"The evidence is against her," said Hurd; "remember the threat--"
+
+"Yes, but wait till you hear Mrs. Purr," said Paul, "but just a moment,
+Hurd. You must learn how Norman laid the foundations of his fortune."
+
+"Ah, I forget! Well?" and the detective settled himself to listen
+further.
+
+"He was hard up and almost starving for a long time after he came to
+London," explained Paul, "then he got a post in a second-hand bookshop
+kept by a man called Garner in the Minories. He had a daughter,
+Lillian--"
+
+"My mother," put in Sylvia, softly.
+
+"Yes," went on Beecot, quickly, "and this girl being lonely fell in
+love with Norman, as he now called himself. He wasn't an attractive man
+with his one eye, so it is hard to say how Miss Garner came to love him.
+But she married him in the end. You'll find everything explained at
+length in the paper we gave you. Then old Garner died, and Lillian
+inherited a considerable sum of money, together with the stock. Her
+husband removed the books to Gwynne Street and started business. But
+with the money he began to trade in jewels, and you know how he got on."
+
+"That's all plain enough," said Hurd, putting the confession of Norman
+into his pocket. "I suppose the man dreaded lest his first wife should
+turn up."
+
+"Yes! And that's why he fainted when he saw the brooch. Not knowing that
+Jessop had removed it from Maud's mouth and pawned it--"
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," said Hurd, quickly. "Bart overheard him
+talking of Stowley and the pawnbroker there."
+
+"Well," said Paul, with a shrug, "he says nothing about it in the
+confession. Perhaps he did trace the brooch to the Stowley shop, but if
+so, I wonder he did not get it, seeing he wanted it. But when he saw it
+in my possession, he thought I might know of Mrs. Krill and might put
+her on the track. Hence his fainting. Later, he learned how I became
+possessed of it, and tried to buy it. Then came the accident, and I
+really believed for a time that Hay had stolen it."
+
+"Aurora says he swore he did not."
+
+"And he didn't," said Paul, going to the door. "Mrs. Purr!"
+
+"You don't mean to say that old woman prigged it?" asked Hurd.
+
+"No. But she warned me against that boy Tray on the day Deborah was
+married. Later, I asked her what she meant, and she then told me that
+she had learned from Tray's grandmother, a drunken old thief, how the
+boy brought home the opal brooch, and--"
+
+Here Mrs. Purr, who had entered and was dropping curtseys to the majesty
+of the law, as represented by Hurd, thought an undue advantage was being
+taken of her position. She wished to talk herself, and interrupted Paul,
+in a shrill voice.
+
+"Granny Clump, she is," said Mrs. Purr, folding her hands under her
+apron. "Tray's gran'mother, as 'is name is Tray Clump, I swear on my
+Bible oath. A wicked old woman as is famous for drink--"
+
+"I've heard of her," said the detective, remembering; "she's been up
+heaps of times."
+
+"And grows no better," wailed Mrs. Purr, bibulously, for she had been
+strengthening herself for the interview with frequent libations of gin.
+"Oh, what a thing strong drink is, sir! But Granny Clump, bein' ill with
+the lungses, and me bein' 'elpful in sich cases, 'aving bin a nuss, when
+young, as I won't deceive you by denying, called on me to be a good
+Smart 'un. And I wos, though she swore awful, saying she wanted gin an'
+jellies, an' could 'ave 'ad them, if that limb--so did she name Tray,
+gentlemen both--'ad only 'anded to 'er the rich brooch he brought 'ome,
+just afore he went to earn a decent livin' at the lawr orfice, which 'is
+name is Pash--"
+
+"Ha," said Hurd, thoughtfully, "I'll see the boy."
+
+"You can see him now," said Beecot, unexpectedly. "When I learned this
+from Mrs. Purr and knew you were coming, I sent a message to Pash's
+office for the boy. He came up quite unsuspectingly, but he refused to
+speak. I shut him up in a back room, and Deborah has been watching
+him--"
+
+"An' the languige of that blessed limb!" exclaimed Mrs. Purr, raising
+her hands.
+
+"Bring him in," said Hurd. "Miss Norman, if the boy uses bad language,
+you needn't stay."
+
+Sylvia, having heard what Tray could do in this way, needed no further
+hint. She left the room gladly, and told Deborah to bring along her
+prisoner. Shortly, the noise of kicking and strong language was heard
+coming nearer, and Deborah, with a red face and a firm mouth, appeared
+at the door, holding aloft a small boy who was black in the face with
+rage. "There," said Deborah, flinging Tray in a heap at the detective's
+feet, "if me an' Bart 'ave sich a brat, I 'ope he dies in his cradle,
+instead of growing to a galler's thief in th' use of words which make me
+shudder, let alone my pretty. Ugh!" she shook her fist at Tray. "You Old
+Bailey viper, though young at that."
+
+"Here," said Tray, rising, much dishevelled, but with a white face, "let
+me go. I'll 'ave the lawr of you."
+
+"I'll attend to that, my lad," said Hurd, dryly. "Now, then, where did
+you get that brooch?"
+
+"Sha'n't tell," snapped the boy, and put his tongue out.
+
+Hurd gave him a smack with an open hand on the side of his face, and
+Master Clump began to blubber.
+
+"Assalting me--oh, won't you ketch it," he raged in his puny wrath. "My
+master's a law-cove, and he'll 'ave y' up before the beak."
+
+"You answer my questions," said Hurd, sternly, "or you'll get another
+clout. You know who I am well enough. Make a clean breast of it, you
+imp, or I'll lock you up."
+
+"If I make a clean breast will you let me cut?" asked Tray, beginning to
+whimper, but with a cunning gleam in his eyes.
+
+"I'll see, when I know what you have to say."
+
+Tray looked round the room to see if there was any way of escape. But
+Paul guarded the closed window and Deborah, itching to box his ears,
+stood before the door. Before him was the stern-faced detective with
+whom Tray knew well enough he dare not trifle. Under these circumstances
+he made the best of a bad job, and told what he knew although he
+interpolated threats all the time. "Wot d'y want with me?" he demanded
+sulkily.
+
+"Where did you find that brooch?"
+
+"I prigged it from Mr. Beecot's pocket when he wos smashed."
+
+"Did Mr. Hay tell you to steal it?"
+
+"No, he didn't."
+
+"Then how did you know the brooch was in my pocket?" asked Paul.
+
+"I was a-dodgin' round the shorp," snapped Tray, "and I 'eard Mr. Norman
+an' Mr. Beecot a-talkin' of the brooch; Mr. Beecot said as he 'ad the
+brooch in 'is pocket--"
+
+"Yes, I certainly did," said Paul, remembering the conversation.
+
+"Well, when the smash come, I dodged in and prigged it. T'wos easy
+'nough," grinned Tray, "for I felt it in 'is bres' poket and collared
+it. I wanted to guv it t' th' ole man, thinkin' he'd pay fur it, as he
+said he would. But arter the smash I went 'ome t' m' grann' and hid the
+brooch. W'en I wos a-lookin' at it at night, I sawr 'er a-lookin' at it,
+and she grabbed it. I cut away with m'own property, not wishin' to be
+robbed by the ole gal."
+
+"What did you do then?"
+
+Tray wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "I 'eard that Mr.
+Norman wos dead--"
+
+"Yes, and you told Jessop so in the office. How did you know?"
+
+"'Cause I went to the shorp in th' mornin' to sell the brooch to th' ole
+man. He was a goner, so I cut to Mr. Pash, as wos his lawyer, and said
+I'd sell 'im the brooch."
+
+"What?" cried Hurd, rising. "You gave the brooch to Mr. Pash?"
+
+"Yuss. He said he'd 'ave me up for stealin', and wouldn't guv me even a
+bob fur it. But he said I'd be his noo orfice boy. I thought I'd be
+respectable, so I went. And now," ended Master Clump in a sullen manner,
+"you knows all, and I ain't done nothin', so I'm orf."
+
+Deborah caught him by the tail of his jacket as he made a dart at the
+door and swung him into the middle of the room. Hurd laid hands on him.
+"You come along with me," he said. "I'll confront you with Pash."
+
+Tray gave a howl of terror. "He'll kill me," he shouted, "as he killed
+the old cove. Yuss. _He_ did it. Pash did it," and he howled again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+WHAT PASH SAID
+
+
+In a smoking compartment, which the three had to themselves, Hurd
+resumed his examination of Tray. They were now on their way to Liverpool
+Street and thence the detective intended to convey the boy to Pash's
+office in Chancery Lane. Paul sat in one corner much excited over the
+turn events had taken. He began to think that the assassin of Aaron
+Norman would be found after all. More, he believed that Sylvia would yet
+inherit the five thousand a year she was entitled to, morally, if not
+legally. Hurd, in another corner, pulled Tray roughly towards him, and
+shook his finger in the lad's face. The boy was sulky and defiant, yet
+there was a trace of fear in his eyes, and the reason of this Hurd
+wished to learn.
+
+"You're a young liar," said Hurd, emphatically, "and not a clever one
+either. Do you think to play the fool with me?"
+
+"I've tole you all straight," grumbled Tray.
+
+"No, you haven't. Anyone can see that you've made a mistake. I leave it
+to Mr. Beecot yonder."
+
+"I was about to draw your attention to the mistake," said Paul; "you
+mean the discrepancy in time."
+
+Master Clump started and became more sulky than ever. He cast down his
+cunning eyes and shuffled with his feet while Hurd lectured him. "You
+know well enough," said the detective, sharply, "that the brooch was
+boned by you on the very evening when the murder took place. It was
+then that Mr. Beecot met with his accident. Therefore, you could not
+have given the brooch to Mr. Pash the _next_ morning, as it had been
+used on the previous night."
+
+"Sha'n't say anythin' more," retorted Tray, defiantly.
+
+"Oh, won't you?" cried Hurd, ironically, "we'll see about that. You told
+that lie about the time to account for your knowing of the murder before
+anyone else did."
+
+"No," said Tray, decidedly, "I did go to the shorp in th' mornin'."
+
+"That you may have done, but not to sell the brooch. Mr. Pash had taken
+it from you on the previous night."
+
+"He didn't," denied the boy.
+
+"Then in that case you've told a lie. Pash never had the brooch, and has
+nothing to do with the murder."
+
+"He _did_ prig the brooch from me, and he _did_ kill the ole cove."
+
+"Well, we'll see what Mr. Pash will say when you accuse him," said Hurd;
+"but I don't believe one word of it. It's my opinion that you gave that
+brooch to a third party on the same evening as you stole it. Now, then,
+who did you give it to?"
+
+"Mr. Pash," persisted Tray.
+
+"On the same evening?"
+
+There was no reply to this. Tray set his lips firmly and refused to
+speak. Hurd shook an admonitory finger again. "You can't play fast and
+loose with me, my lad," he said grimly; "if you didn't part with that
+brooch, you must be mixed up in the crime yourself. Perhaps you pinned
+the poor wretch's mouth together. It's just the sort of cruel thing a
+young Cain like you would do."
+
+"I didn't," said Master Clump, doggedly; "you take me to master, and
+I'll tell him what I tells you. He's the one."
+
+Hurd shook the boy to make him talk more, but Tray simply threw himself
+on the floor of the carriage and howled. The detective therefore picked
+him up and flung him into a corner. "You stop there, you little
+ruffian," he said, seriously annoyed at the boy's recalcitrants; "we'll
+speak again when we are in Mr. Pash's office." So Tray curled up on the
+cushion, looked savagely at the detective and held his tongue.
+
+"What do you think will be the end of all this?" asked Paul, when Master
+Clump was thus disposed of.
+
+"Lord knows," replied Hurd, wiping his face. "I never had a harder case
+to deal with. I thought Hay had a hand in it, but it seems he hadn't,
+bad lot as he is, asking your pardon, Mr. Beecot, since you're his
+friend."
+
+"That I am not," disclaimed Beecot, emphatically; "there's a young
+lawyer I know, Ford is his name. I went to see him as to what chances
+Sylvia had of getting the money. He was at school with me, and
+remembered Hay. He said that Hay was dismissed from Torrington School
+for stealing."
+
+"Didn't you know that yourself."
+
+"No, I had left the school--I was ill at home with scarlet fever. But
+Hay apparently always has been a bad lot. He and that Krill pair are
+well matched, for I believe the mother is bad, even if the daughter Maud
+isn't. By the way her age--?"
+
+Hurd nodded. "I believe she was fifteen at the time of the death of Lady
+Rachel. If so, she can't be legitimate or may not be the daughter of
+Aaron Norman. However, I've asked my sister to look up Mrs. Krill's past
+life in Stowley, where she comes from."
+
+"But she wasn't married to Krill at Stowley?"
+
+"No. But she lived there as Anne Tyler. From the certificate she was
+married to Krill at a small parish church twenty miles from Stowley, so
+Aurora will go there. But I want her to stop at Stowley first and learn
+all she can about Anne Tyler."
+
+"Beechill's the name of the parish in which she was married to Krill
+before she came to Christchurch," said Paul, musingly, "so I expect they
+lived there. Miss Qian might search also for the certificate of Maud
+Krill's birth."
+
+"I told her to, and, failing that, she's to search in Christchurch. We
+must get the certificate of birth somehow."
+
+"Hurd," said Paul, rather diffidently, "I hope you won't be annoyed, but
+I have already asked my friend Ford to give notice to Pash to produce
+the certificate."
+
+"Well," replied the detective, "you might have told me; but no great
+harm is done. What does Pash say?"
+
+"I don't know. Ford has not let me know yet. Here we are."
+
+This remark was caused by the stopping of the train at Liverpool Street
+Station. A number of people were returning from their employment in the
+city to the country, and the platforms were crowded. Hurd grasped Master
+Clump by the arm and marched him along. But in the confusion of finding
+his ticket at the barrier, he happened to let go, almost without
+thinking. In a moment Tray had darted through the barrier and was lost
+in the crowd. Hurd sprang after him, and left Paul to explain. He
+hurriedly did so, and then went out to see if the detective had caught
+the boy.
+
+Hurd was nowhere to be seen, neither was Tray. The crowd was increasing
+thick, and Beecot was at a loss what to do. After waiting for an hour
+without finding the pair, he thought he would go to Pash's office. It
+might be that Hurd, having caught Tray, would take him there at once,
+leaving Beecot to follow. So Paul got on to the metropolitan railway and
+alighted at the Temple Station. Thence he walked up to the office in
+Chancery Lane.
+
+"Where's Tray?" asked Paul, of the one clerk in the outer room, who was
+writing for dear life.
+
+"I don't know, sir," said the clerk; "he went out this morning and
+hasn't been back all day. Mr. Pash is very angry with him."
+
+Apparently Hurd had not caught the boy yet, or if he had, did not intend
+to bring him to the office. "Can I see Mr. Pash?" asked Paul, thinking
+he might as well make some use of his time.
+
+The clerk inquired if the solicitor would see Beecot, and presently
+ushered him into the inner room, where Pash sat looking more like a
+monkey than ever. He did not appear at all pleased to see the young man,
+and sucked in his cheek with a crabbed air.
+
+"Well, Mr. Beecot, what can I do for you?" he snarled.
+
+"You might be civil in the first place," said Paul quietly, taking a
+chair. "You haven't behaved over well to Miss Norman and me."
+
+"Oh," said Pash, coolly, "have you come to reproach me with that?"
+
+"I never waste time," rejoined Paul, equally coolly. "I'll leave you to
+your conscience."
+
+Pash shrugged his shoulders and put his feet on the rungs of his chair.
+"I think my conscience can stand that," he said; "it's business, Mr.
+Beecot, business. By the way, I have received a request from Mr. Ford of
+Cheapside to produce the certificate of birth of Miss Krill. What is the
+meaning of that?"
+
+"I think you know very well, Mr. Pash."
+
+"I profess my ignorance," said Pash, ironically, although he looked
+uneasy, and was apparently lying.
+
+"In that case you had better wait till you hear from Mr. Ford."
+
+"Are you employing Mr. Ford, may I ask?"
+
+Paul nodded. "On behalf of Miss Norman," said he, coldly.
+
+"Ah," sneered the monkey, "you think you'll get the money."
+
+"Wait till you hear from Mr. Ford," retorted Paul again, and enjoyed the
+baffled expression on Mr. Pash's wrinkled face. "By the way, sir, why
+did you not tell Hurd that Tray gave you the opal brooch?"
+
+Pash turned all the colors of the rainbow. "Does that brat I took into
+my office out of charity dare to say that he did."
+
+"He does, and what is more, Mr. Hurd is bringing him here to make the
+statement, face to face with you. I am determined to get to the bottom
+of this case, sir, for Miss Norman's sake. And the possession of the
+brooch forms an important link."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"The person who had that brooch on the evening of the sixth of July
+murdered Norman," said Paul, calmly.
+
+Pash jumped up and chattered like a baboon in a rage. "Do you mean to
+accuse me?" he demanded. "Take care--take care."
+
+"I don't accuse you. Tray does."
+
+"It's a lie--a lie--"
+
+"Don't excite yourself, Mr. Pash. You'll need all your wits to convince
+Hurd. Tray accuses you, and Hurd suspects you. I have nothing to do with
+the matter."
+
+"You put Hurd up to this," foamed Pash, hardly able to speak.
+
+"Pardon me. Hurd is working for the reward offered by your client. Don't
+you think it was rather foolish of her to offer such a large reward,
+Mr. Pash, even though she did so to avert suspicion?"
+
+The solicitor changed color again. "I don't understand you."
+
+Paul shrugged his shoulders and rose to go. "Perhaps Mr. Hurd will
+explain," he said, and made for the door.
+
+Pash, with his monkey face much perplexed, sat hunched in his chair,
+biting his fingers. As Paul laid his hand on the knob, he called him
+back. "I can explain," he said nervously.
+
+"Not to me," said Paul, coldly.
+
+"I prefer to do so to you," said the lawyer, hurriedly.
+
+"Why to me particularly."
+
+"Because I don't think I have acted very well towards Miss Norman, and,
+as you are to marry her, you may be able to arrange--"
+
+"To make peace I suppose you mean," burst out Beecot; "no, Mr. Pash, you
+have acted like a scoundrel. You left that poor girl in the lurch as
+soon as you found that Miss Krill was--as you thought--legally entitled
+to the money."
+
+"What do you mean by hinting she isn't?"
+
+"Because you know very well what her age is," retorted Paul. "This
+matter will be shifted to the bottom, Mr. Pash, by my friend Ford, and
+if things are as I think they are, Miss Krill won't keep that money. You
+know very well--"
+
+"Miss Norman won't get the money either," snarled Pash, "I know that
+very well. Leastways," he added, "without my assistance."
+
+"More of your crooked ways," said Paul, indignantly. "Tell what you like
+to Hurd. I refuse to listen."
+
+As he spoke he opened the door and found himself facing Hurd who was red
+and hot. The detective stepped into the office, and as he passed Paul,
+whispered, "Hold your tongue about the boy," then he turned to Mr. Pash.
+"Well, sir," he puffed, "I have had a job catching up Mr. Beecot. No
+doubt you know why I have come?"
+
+"No," said Pash, dryly; "I don't see Tray."
+
+"Tray will keep. I've got him safe under lock and key. Before bringing
+you face to face with him I thought it best to give you an opportunity
+of clearing yourself."
+
+"Of what?" asked Pash, in a brazen manner.
+
+Hurd looked at Beecot who spoke. "Mr. Pash knows very well that Tray
+accuses him of the crime," he said. "I told him so, and he professed his
+readiness to explain to you."
+
+"Ah," said Hurd, "shut the door, Mr. Beecot. No need to let all London
+know the truth."
+
+"_I_ don't know it," said Pash, as Paul closed the door and returned to
+his seat.
+
+"Very good," rejoined the detective, calmly, "we'll assume for the sake
+of argument that you did not strangle Norman."
+
+"That I certainly did not."
+
+"Then you know who did. Come, sir," Hurd became stern; "this boy Tray
+says he gave the opal brooch to you. And I believe he did. You would not
+have taken him into your office--a boy off the streets, and with a bad
+character at that--unless you wanted to bribe him to hold his tongue."
+
+"I had no need to bribe," said Pash, gnawing his finger nails and rather
+cowed by this direct attack. "The boy _did_ show me the opal brooch, and
+I took it from him to return to Norman."
+
+"When did you receive it?" asked Hurd, pulling out his book. "Be
+careful, Mr. Pash, I'll take down what you say."
+
+"I have nothing to conceal," said Pash, in quite an unnecessarily
+injured manner. "I had employed the boy on several errands, and he knew
+I was Norman's lawyer. On the evening of the sixth of July--"
+
+"And the evening of the murder," said Hurd; "are you sure?"
+
+"I'll take my oath on it. The boy told me that Mr. Beecot had met with
+an accident and that a blue velvet case containing a brooch had fallen
+out of his pocket."
+
+"It was stolen," said Beecot, hastily.
+
+"Tray was not such a fool as to tell me that," replied the lawyer,
+dryly; "he said that he picked the case up out of the mud, and took it
+home to his garret. His grandmother, who is a notorious thief, wanted to
+get it, and pawn it for drink, but Tray ran away with it and came to me
+about five o'clock. He gave me the brooch and asked me to take charge of
+it, as he expected to get money for it from Aaron Norman who wanted it."
+
+"Tray overheard my conversation with Norman," said Paul, angrily, "and
+knew the brooch was mine--so did you, Mr. Pash."
+
+"Well," said the solicitor, coolly, "what of that? Norman was my client
+and wanted the brooch. I intended to keep it and then see you, so that a
+sale might be arranged. Norman spoke to me about the brooch several
+times and wanted it for reasons you may not know."
+
+"Oh, yes, we know," said Hurd, sardonically; "we know much more than you
+give us credit for, Mr. Pash. Well, you saw Norman about the jewel later
+that evening. I suppose you intend to tell us you gave him the brooch
+then."
+
+"I intend to tell nothing of the sort," retorted Pash, after a few
+moments' thought. "I see that things are coming to a crisis, and I would
+like to see Miss Norman reinstated in her rights."
+
+"Oh," said Paul, indignantly, "and you did your best to give the money
+to Maud Krill!"
+
+"Because I believed she was legally entitled to it," explained Pash,
+lamely; "but since--no," he broke off, "I'll say nothing just now. I
+alone can put the matter right, and I refuse to do so unless I have Miss
+Norman's promise that I shall keep the business."
+
+Paul would have refused then and there, but Hurd, more astute,
+interrupted his angry speech. "We'll see about that later, Mr. Pash," he
+said, soothingly; "meanwhile, what did you do with the brooch?"
+
+"I laid it on the table there. The case was open, as I had been looking
+at it. I sent Tray out of the room and attended to my usual business.
+Several clients came and went, and I forgot about the opal serpent. Then
+I went to see my clerk outside about a deed. I was with him for some
+minutes. When I recollected the brooch before I went home--for I
+intended to take it with me--"
+
+"Stop," interrupted Hurd, "you were here till Aaron Norman came along
+with the jewels, so you must have missed the brooch before he came or he
+would have taken it, seeing it was exposed on the table."
+
+"My esteemed client did not come till seven," said Pash, annoyed at
+being detected in trickery. "He walked about with the bags of jewels for
+some time, not being able to make up his mind to give them to me, which
+he did for safe keeping."
+
+"Then he expected a visit from his wife?"
+
+"I can't say," said the solicitor, with an air of fatigue. "He certainly
+hinted that he wanted the jewels placed away safely in case someone
+connected with the opal brooch should come."
+
+"Perhaps Captain Jessop, who did come," said Paul, suddenly.
+
+"He didn't mention the name of Jessop," snapped Pash. "Had he hinted at
+a sailor I would have known who my nautical visitor was."
+
+"We know all about that," said Hurd, waving his hand; "But if Norman
+came to you at seven, how did you manage to prevent him meeting his wife
+in this office?"
+
+"Oh, she was--What do you mean?" asked Pash, breaking off, and conscious
+that he was letting slip something he had rather had not been known.
+
+Hurd saw the slip and Pash's confusion and at once made every use of the
+opportunity. In fact, he played a game of bluff. Shaking his finger he
+approached the little lawyer. "Do you think I come here unprepared?" he
+asked, solemnly; "do you think I have not been to 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch and learned that Mrs. Krill knew of her husband's
+whereabouts, through Hay, long before the day she came to you with the
+lying story about the hand-bills? Hay has confessed his share in the
+business of a false introduction to throw Mr. Beecot off the scent,
+seeing that he was defending Miss Norman's interests. Do you think I
+don't know that this woman Krill came to see you, through Hay, whose
+lawyer you are? She was here on that fatal evening," said Hurd, making a
+bold shot, "how did you prevent her seeing Norman?"
+
+Pash was completely thrown off his balance by this volley of language
+and presumption of knowledge. "Mrs. Krill left at six," he gasped,
+backing to the wall.
+
+"And carried off the brooch?"
+
+"I'm not sure--I can't say--I _did_ miss the brooch--"
+
+"After Mrs. Krill left?"
+
+"No, when Norman came. I intended to show him the brooch and found it
+gone."
+
+"Mrs. Krill left at six. Between six and seven did any other client come
+into the office?"
+
+"Yes--no--I can't say. Well," Pash broke down in despair seeing that his
+lies were not believed, "I think Mrs. Krill did steal the brooch."
+
+"Quite so, and murdered her husband!" Hurd went to the door and took
+Beecot's arm. "I only hope you won't be brought up as an accessory
+before the fact, Mr. Pash," and disregarding the lawyer's exclamations
+he dragged Paul outside. In Chancery Lane he spoke. "I've bluffed him
+fine," he said, "that boy is lost. Can't see him anywhere. But we're
+getting at the truth at last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+MRS. KRILL AT BAY
+
+
+Next day Hurd did not go to see Mrs. Krill as he had intended, but spent
+his time in hunting for the missing boy. Tray, however, was not to be
+found. Being a guttersnipe and accustomed to dealing with the police he
+was thoroughly well able to look after himself, and doubtless had
+concealed himself in some low den where the officers of the law would
+not think of searching for him. However, the fact remained that, in
+spite of the detective's search, he could not be caught, and the
+authorities were much vexed. To unravel the case completely Tray was a
+necessary witness, especially as, even when examined at Jubileetown,
+Hurd shrewdly suspected he had not confessed all the truth. However,
+what could be done was done, and several plain-clothes detectives were
+set to search for the missing boy.
+
+Pash remained quiet for, at all events, the next four-and-twenty hours.
+Whether he saw Mrs. Krill or not during that time Hurd did not know and,
+truth to say, he cared very little. The lawyer had undoubtedly acted
+dishonestly, and if the matter were made public, there would be every
+chance that he would be struck off the rolls. To prevent this Pash was
+quite ready to sell Mrs. Krill and anyone else connected with the
+mystery. Also, he wished to keep the business of Miss Norman, supposing
+the money--as he hinted might be the case through his assistance--came
+back to her; and this might be used as a means to make him speak out.
+Hurd was now pretty sure that Mrs. Krill was the guilty person.
+
+"She knew Pash through Hay," argued the detective, while thinking over
+the case, "and undoubtedly came to see him before Norman's death, so
+that Pash might suggest ways and means of getting the better of the old
+man by means of the bigamy business. Mrs. Krill was in the Chancery Lane
+office when the brooch left by Tray was on the table, and Mrs. Krill,
+anxious to get it, no doubt slipped it into her pocket when Pash was
+talking to his clerk in the outer room. Then I expect she decided to
+punish her husband by fastening his lips together as he had done those
+of her daughter twenty and more years ago. I can't exactly see why she
+strangled him," mused Hurd, "as she could have got the money without
+proceeding to such an extreme measure. But the man's dead, and she
+killed him sure enough. Now, I'll get a warrant out and arrest her
+straight away. There's quite enough evidence to justify her being taken
+in charge. Hum! I wonder if she made use of that young devil of a Tray
+in any way? Well," he rose and stretched himself, "I may force her to
+speak now that she is in a corner."
+
+Having made up his mind Hurd went to work at once, and the next day,
+late in the afternoon, he was driving in a cab to No. 32A Hunter Street,
+Kensington, with the warrant in his pocket. He also had with him a
+letter which he had received from Miss Qian, and written from Beechill
+in Buckinghamshire. Aurora had made good use of her time and had learned
+a number of facts connected with Mrs. Krill's early life which Hurd
+thought would prove of interest to the woman. In one way and another the
+case was becoming plain and clear, and the detective made sure that he
+would gain the reward. The irony of the thing was, that Mrs. Krill,
+with a view to throwing dust in the eyes of the law, had offered a bribe
+of one thousand pounds for the discovery of the assassin. She little
+thought when doing so that she was weaving a rope for her own neck.
+
+Hurd had brought a plain-clothes policeman with him, and this man
+remained outside in a hansom while Hurd rang the bell. In a few minutes
+the door was opened and the detective sent up his card. Mrs. Krill
+proved to be at home and consented to receive him, so, shortly, the man
+found himself in an elegantly-furnished drawing-room bowing before the
+silent and sedate daughter.
+
+"You wish to see my mother," said Maud, with her eternal smile. "She
+will be down in a few minutes."
+
+"I await her convenience," said Hurd, admiring the handsome looks of the
+young woman, although he plainly saw that she was--as he phrased it--"no
+chicken."
+
+After a few words Miss Krill rang the bell. "I want these things taken
+away," she said, pointing to a workbasket and some millinery with which
+she had been engaged when Hurd was announced, "then I shall leave you to
+speak to my mother."
+
+The detective wondered if she was too fine a lady to remove these things
+herself, but his surprise ceased when the door opened and no less a
+person than Matilda Junk appeared. He guessed at once that the landlady
+of "The Red Pig" had come up to see her sister and had related details
+about her visitor. Probably Mrs. Krill guessed that Hurd had been asking
+questions, and Matilda had been introduced to see if he was the man. He
+became certain of this when Miss Junk threw up her hands. "The
+commercial gent," she exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, no," said Maud, smiling smoothly. "This is Mr. Hurd, the detective,
+who is searching for the assassin of my dear father."
+
+"Lor,'" said Matilda, growing red. "And he's the man as came to ask
+questions at the 'otel. I do call it bold of you, Mister Policeman."
+
+"Well," said Hurd, swinging his hat lazily, and looking from one to the
+other, quite taking in the situation, "you answered very few of my
+questions, so that is all right."
+
+"Why did you go down to Christchurch?" asked Miss Krill.
+
+"If I have to find out who killed your father," said Hurd, with an
+accent on the word "father," "it was necessary that I should learn about
+his past life as Lemuel Krill."
+
+"My mother could have informed you, sir."
+
+"I guessed as much, and, as Miss Junk would not speak, I have come to
+question Mrs. Krill. Ah, here she is." Hurd rose and bowed. "I am glad
+to see you, madam."
+
+Mrs. Krill, who was as plump and smiling and smooth-faced and severe as
+ever, bowed and rubbed her white hands together. At a sign from Maud,
+Matilda gathered up the fancy work and went out of the room with many
+backward glances. These were mostly indignant, for she was angry at
+Hurd's deception. "Do you wish my daughter to stay?" asked Mrs. Krill,
+smoothly.
+
+"That is as she pleases," said the detective.
+
+"No, thank you, mother," said Maud, shuddering, "I have heard quite
+enough of my poor father's terrible death," and she swept out of the
+drawing-room with a gracious smile.
+
+"The poor child is so sensitive," sighed Mrs. Krill, taking a seat with
+her back to the window. Whether this was done to conceal her age, or the
+expression of her face during a conversation which could not fail to
+prove trying, Hurd was unable to determine. "I trust, Mr. Hurd, you have
+come with good news," said the widow.
+
+"What would you call good news?" asked the detective, dryly.
+
+"That you had traced the assassin," she replied coolly.
+
+Hurd was amazed at this brazen assurance, and thought that Mrs. Krill
+must be quite convinced that she had covered up every trail likely to
+lead to the discovery of her connection with the murder.
+
+"I'll leave you to judge whether I have been successful," he said
+calmly.
+
+"I shall be pleased to hear," was the equally calm reply. But as Mrs.
+Krill spoke she glanced towards a gorgeous tapestry curtain at the end
+of the room, and Hurd fancied he saw it shake. It suddenly occurred to
+him that Maud was behind. Why she should choose this secret way of
+listening when she could have remained it was difficult to say, and he
+half thought he was mistaken. However, listening openly or secretly, did
+not matter so far as the daughter was concerned, so Hurd addressed
+himself to Mrs. Krill in a loud and cheerful voice. She composed herself
+to listen with a bland smile, and apparently was quite ignorant that
+there was anything wrong.
+
+"I was lately down at Christchurch, madam--"
+
+"So my servant, Matilda Junk, said."
+
+"It was necessary that I should go there to search out your husband's
+past life. In that past I fancied, might be found the motive for the
+commission of the crime."
+
+"I could have saved you the journey," said Mrs. Krill, shrugging her
+plump shoulders. "I can tell you what you wish to know."
+
+"In that case I will relate all that I have learned, and perhaps you
+will correct me if I am wrong."
+
+Mrs. Krill bowed but did not commit herself to speech. For the sake of
+effect the detective took out a sheaf of notes, but in reality he had
+the various points of the case at his finger tips. "You will excuse me
+if I talk on very private matters," he said, apologetically, "but as we
+are alone," again Mrs. Krill glanced at the curtain and thereby
+confirmed Hurd's suspicions of an unseen listener, "you will not mind my
+being, perhaps, personal."
+
+"Personal," echoed Mrs. Krill, a keen look coming into her hard eyes,
+and she stopped rubbing her hands together.
+
+"Well, yes," admitted Hurd, with affected reluctance. "I had to look
+into your past as well as into that of your husband's."
+
+Mrs. Krill's eyes grew harder than ever. She scented danger. "My past is
+a most uninteresting one," she said, coldly. "I was born at Stowley, in
+Buckinghamshire, and married Mr. Krill at Beechill, which is a few miles
+from that town. He was a traveller in jewellery, but as I did not like
+his being away from me, I induced him to rent 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch, to which we removed. Then he left me--"
+
+"On account of Lady Rachel Sandal's murder?"
+
+Mrs. Krill controlled herself excellently, although she was startled by
+this speech, as was evident from the expression of her eyes. "That poor
+lady committed suicide," she said deliberately. "The jury at the inquest
+brought in a verdict of suicide--"
+
+"By a majority of one," added Hurd, quickly. "There seemed to be a
+considerable amount of doubt as to the cause of the death."
+
+"The death was caused by strangulation," said Mrs. Krill, in hard tones.
+"Since you know all about the matter, you must be aware that I and my
+daughter had retired after seeing Lady Rachel safe and sound for the
+night. The death was discovered by a boon companion of my husband's,
+with whom he was drinking at the time."
+
+"I know that. Also that you came down with your daughter when the alarm
+was given. I also know that Krill fastened your daughter's lips together
+with the opal brooch which was found in the parlor."
+
+"Who told you that?" asked Mrs. Krill, agitated.
+
+"Jessop--the boon companion you speak of."
+
+"Yes," she said, suppressing her agitation with a powerful effort.
+"Matilda said you had him to dine with you. What else did he say?" she
+asked with some hesitation.
+
+"Much less than I should have liked to know," retorted Hurd, prepared to
+throw off the mask; "but he told me a great deal which interested me
+very much. Amongst other things that Grexon Hay had been engaged to your
+daughter for two years."
+
+"Well?" asked Mrs. Krill, coolly, "what of that?"
+
+"Nothing particular," rejoined Hurd, just as coolly, "only I wonder you
+took the trouble to pretend that you met Hay at Pash's office for the
+first time."
+
+"That was some romantic rubbish of my daughter's. There was no reason
+why we should not have acknowledged Mr. Hay as an old acquaintance."
+
+"None in the world that I can see," said Hurd, smoothly. "He told you
+that Aaron Norman was your husband."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Krill, decidedly, "I first heard of my husband by seeing
+a chance hand-bill--"
+
+"Not at all," answered Hurd, just as decidedly, "Hay has confessed."
+
+"There was nothing to confess," cried Mrs. Krill, loudly and with
+emphasis.
+
+"Oh, I think so," said the detective, noting that she was losing her
+temper. "You didn't want it known that you were aware of Norman's
+identity before his death. Do you deny that?"
+
+"I deny everything," gasped Mrs. Krill, her hands trembling.
+
+"That's a pity, as I want you to corroborate certain facts connected
+with Anne Tyler. Do you know the name?"
+
+"My maiden name," said the widow, and a look of fear crept into her
+hard, staring eyes. "How did you come to know of it?"
+
+"From the marriage certificate supplied by Pash."
+
+"He had no right to give it to you."
+
+"He didn't. I possess only a copy. But that copy I sent down in charge
+of a certain person to Beechill. This person found that you were married
+as Anne Tyler to Lemuel Krill in the parish church, twenty miles from
+your birthplace."
+
+Mrs. Krill drew a long breath of relief. "Well?" she demanded defiantly,
+"is there anything wrong about that?"
+
+"No. But this person also made inquiries at Stowley about you. You are
+the daughter of a farmer."
+
+"I mentioned that fact myself."
+
+"Yes. But you didn't mention that your mother had been hanged for
+poisoning your father."
+
+Mrs. Krill turned ghastly pale. "No," she said in a suffocating voice,
+"such is the case; but can you wonder that I forebore to mention that
+fact? My daughter knows nothing of that--nor did my husband--"
+
+"Which husband do you mean, Krill or Jessop?" asked Hurd.
+
+Mrs. Krill gasped and rose, swaying. "What do you mean, man?"
+
+"This," said the detective, on his feet at once; "this person hunted out
+the early life of Anne Tyler at Stowley. It was discovered that Anne was
+the daughter of a woman who had been hanged, and of a man who had been
+murdered. Also this person found that Anne Tyler married a sailor called
+Jarvey Jessop some years before she committed bigamy with Lemuel Krill
+in Beechill Church--"
+
+"It's a lie!" screamed Mrs. Krill, losing her self-control. "How dare
+you come here with these falsehoods?"
+
+"They are not falsehoods, Anne Tyler, _alias_ Anne Jessop, _alias_ Anne
+Krill, etc.," retorted Hurd, speaking rapidly and emphasizing his
+remarks with his finger in his usual fashion when in deadly earnest.
+"You were married to Jessop in Stowley Church; you bore him a daughter
+who was christened Maud Jessop in Stowley Church. The person I mentioned
+sent me copies of the marriage and birth certificates. So your marriage
+with Lemuel Krill was false, and his second marriage with Lillian Garner
+is a good one in law. Which means, Mrs. Jessop," Hurd hurled the word at
+her and she shrank, "that Sylvia Norman or Sylvia Krill, as she
+rightfully is, owns that money which you wrongfully withhold from her.
+The will gave the five thousand a year to 'my daughter,' and Sylvia is
+the only daughter and only child--the legitimate child, mark you--of
+Lemuel Krill."
+
+"Lies--lies--lies!" raged Mrs. Krill, as she may still be called, though
+rightfully Jessop, "I'll defend the case on my daughter's behalf."
+
+"_Your_ daughter, certainly," said Hurd, "but not Krill's."
+
+"I say yes."
+
+"And I say no. She was fifteen when Lady Rachel was murdered, as Jessop,
+her father, admitted. I knew the man was keeping something back, but I
+was far from suspecting that it was this early marriage. No wonder the
+man came to you and had free quarters at 'The Red Pig.' He could have
+prosecuted you for bigamy, just as you would have prosecuted Krill, had
+you not murdered him."
+
+Mrs. Krill gave a yell and her eyes blazed. "You hound!" she shouted,
+"do you accuse me of that?"
+
+"I do more than accuse you, I arrest you." Hurd produced the warrant. "A
+man is waiting in the cab. We'll get a four-wheeler, and you'll come
+along with me to gaol, Mrs. Jessop."
+
+"You can't prove it--you can't prove it," she panted, "and I sha'n't
+go--I sha'n't--I sha'n't!" and her eyes sought the tapestry.
+
+"Miss Jessop can come out," said Hurd, coolly, "and, as to your not
+coming, a few policemen will soon put that right."
+
+"How dare you insult me and my daughter?"
+
+"Come, come," said the detective, sternly, "I've had quite enough of
+this. You offered me one thousand pounds to learn who killed your
+so-called husband, Krill. I have earned the reward--"
+
+"Not one shilling shall you have."
+
+"Oh, I think so. Miss Sylvia will pay it to me, and you--"
+
+"I am innocent. I never touched the man."
+
+"A jury will decide that, Mrs. Jessop."
+
+"Krill--my name is Krill."
+
+Hurd laughed and turned towards the tapestry.
+
+"What do you say, Miss Jessop?" he asked.
+
+Seeing that further concealment was at an end, Maud lifted the tapestry,
+which concealed a small door, through which she had silently stolen to
+listen. She advanced calmly. "I have heard all your conversation with my
+mother," she declared with flashing eyes, "and not one word of it is
+true. I am the daughter of Lemuel Krill."
+
+"You'll find that hard to prove in the face of your birth certificate
+and your mother's marriage to Captain Jessop, your father."
+
+"It will all be put right."
+
+"Quite so, and Miss Norman will get the money."
+
+"That girl--never!" cried Maud, fiercely. She looked very like her
+mother at the moment, but the more angry she grew the calmer became Mrs.
+Krill, who kept darting anxious glances at her daughter. "And you
+sha'n't take my mother away," she cried threateningly.
+
+"I don't want to make a scandal in the neighborhood," said Hurd, taking
+a small whistle from his pocket, "but if I blow this my man out there
+will call the nearest policeman, and then--"
+
+"There is no need," interrupted Mrs. Krill, who had recovered her
+self-control. "Maud, come over beside me. On what grounds, Mr. Hurd, do
+you accuse me of the crime? I was not in town on--"
+
+"Oh, yes, you were, Mrs. Jessop. Pash can prove that you were in his
+office and took the brooch left by Tray from the table. I don't know
+where you stopped on that night--"
+
+"At Judson's Hotel, Strand," cried Maud, placing herself beside her
+mother, "and anyone there can prove that my mother and myself were
+within doors after we came from Terry's Theatre, where we spent the
+evening. As my father--for Krill _was_ my father--was killed after
+twelve, and we were both in bed in one room before then, your accusation
+falls to the ground. My mother was with me, and she did not leave the
+whole evening. Next day we went to Christchurch."
+
+Hurd was rather staggered by the positive way in which the young woman
+spoke. But the facts were too plain for him to hesitate. "I must trouble
+you to come along with me," he said. "No, don't go!"
+
+"To put on my cloak and hat?" urged Mrs. Krill. "I'll come quietly
+enough. I don't want a scandal. I am sure when the magistrate hears what
+I have to say he will let me go free."
+
+"I trust so. But you must not leave the room. Matilda will, no doubt,
+bring your things."
+
+Mrs. Krill touched the electric button of the bell, while Maud walked up
+and down, deathly white and fuming. "Mr. Hay shall see to this," she
+said in a cold rage.
+
+"Mr. Hay will have quite enough to do to look after himself," said the
+detective, coolly; "you had better let your mother go quietly, and I
+won't say anything to Matilda Junk."
+
+"Yes, do, Maud," urged the mother, placing an imploring hand on her tall
+daughter's shoulder; "it's better so. Everything will be put right when
+the magistrate hears my story."
+
+"What will you tell him, mother?" asked Maud.
+
+"That I am innocent, and that I am, as you are, ignorant of who killed
+your unfortunate father."
+
+Matilda entered the room and heard that Mrs. Krill had to go out on
+business with Mr. Hurd. On receiving her orders she departed, and
+presently returned with the cloak and hat. Mrs. Krill, who was now quite
+cool, put these on. Hurd could not but admire the brave way in which she
+faced the terrible situation. Maud seemed to be far more upset, and Hurd
+wondered if the young woman knew the truth. Mrs. Krill kept soothing
+her. "It will be all right, my love. Don't excite yourself. It will be
+all right," she said several times.
+
+Miss Junk departed, and Mrs. Krill said that she was ready to depart.
+Hurd offered her his arm, which she rejected, and walked to the door
+with a firm step, although her face was rather white. At the door she
+caught her daughter round the neck and kissed her several times, after
+which she whispered earnestly in her ear, and then went down the stairs
+with the detective in attendance. Maud, with white lips and cheeks, but
+with dry eyes, followed. When her mother was safely in the cab, the
+plain-clothes policeman alighted, so that Hurd might take his place.
+Maud came quietly down the steps and seized the detective by the arm.
+
+"You have ruined my mother," she said in a cold, hard tone; "you have
+robbed me of my money and of the chance of marrying the man I love. I
+can't hurt you; but that girl, Sylvia--she shall never get one
+penny--so, remember!"
+
+Hurd shook her off, and, stepping into the cab, drove away. Mrs. Krill
+looked apprehensively at him. "What did Maud say?" she asked. Hurd told
+her, and Mrs. Krill closed her lips firmly. "Maud is quite right," she
+said with a strange smile. "Sylvia will never get the money."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+A CRUEL WOMAN
+
+
+"Jus' say your meanin', my pretty queen," said Mrs. Tawsey, as she stood
+at the sitting-room door, and watched Sylvia reading an ill-written
+letter. "It's twelve now, and I kin be back by five, arter a long, and
+enjiable tork with Matilder."
+
+"You certainly must go," replied Sylvia, handing back the letter. "I am
+sure your sister will be glad to see you, Debby."
+
+Deborah sniffed and scratched her elbow. "Relatives ain't friends in our
+family," she said, shaking her head, "whatever you may say, my
+deary-sweet. Father knocked mother int' lunatics arter she'd nagged 'im
+to drunk an' police-cells. Three brothers I 'ad, and all of 'em that
+'andy with their fistises as they couldn't a-bear to live in 'armony
+without black eyes and swolled bumps all over them. As to Matilder, she
+an' me never did, what you might call, hit it orf, by reason of 'er not
+givin' way to me, as she should ha' done, me bein' the youngest and what
+you might call the baby of the lot. We ain't seen each other fur years,
+and the meetin' will be cold. She'll not have much forgiveness fur me
+bein' a bride, when she's but a lone cross-patch, drat her."
+
+"Don't quarrel with her, Debby. She has written you a very nice letter,
+asking you to go down to Mrs. Krill's house in Kensington, and she
+really wants to see you before she goes back to Christchurch to-night."
+
+"Well, I'll go," said Deborah, suddenly; "but I don't like leavin' you
+all by your own very self, my sunflower."
+
+"I'll be all right, Debby. Paul comes at four o'clock, and you'll be
+back at five."
+
+"Sooner, if me an' Matilder don't hit if orf, or if we hit each other,
+which, knowin' 'er 'abits, I do expects. But Bart's out till six, and
+there won't be anyone to look arter them as washes--four of 'em," added
+Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose, "and as idle as porkpines."
+
+"Mrs. Purr can look after them."
+
+"Look arter gin more like," said Deborah, contemptuously. "She's allays
+suckin', sly-like, tryin' to purtend as it's water, as if the smell
+didn't give it away, whatever the color may be. An' here she is, idling
+as usual. An' may I arsk, Mrs. Purr ma'am," demanded Deborah with great
+politeness, "wot I pays you fur in the way of ironin'?"
+
+But Mrs. Purr was too excited to reply. She brushed past her indignant
+mistress and faced Sylvia, waving a dirty piece of paper. "Lor', miss,"
+she almost screamed, "you do say as you want t'know where that limb Tray
+'ave got to--"
+
+"Yes--yes," said Sylvia, rising, "he escaped from Mr. Hurd, and we want
+to find him very much."
+
+"It's a letter from 'im," said Mrs. Purr, thrusting the paper into
+Sylvia's hand; "tho' 'ow he writes, not 'avin' bin to a board school, I
+dunno. He's in a ken at Lambith, and ill at that. Want's me t'go an' see
+'im. But I can't leave the ironin'."
+
+"Yuss y' can," said Deborah, suddenly; "this erringd is ness'ary, Mrs.
+Purr ma'am, so jes' put on your bunnet, an' go to Mr. Hurd as 'as 'is
+orfice at Scotlan' Yard, and take 'im with you."
+
+"Oh! but I couldn't--"
+
+"You go," advised Mrs. Tawsey. "There's five pounds offered for the
+brat's bein' found."
+
+"Five pun!" gasped Mrs. Purr, trembling. "Lor', and me 'avin' a chanct
+of gittin' it. I'll go--I'll go. I knows the Yard, 'avin' 'ad summat to
+do with them dirty perlice in my time. Miss Sylvia--"
+
+"Yes, go, Mrs. Purr, and see Mr. Hurd. He'll give you the five pounds if
+you take him to Tray." Sylvia handed back the paper. "Tray seems to be
+ill."
+
+"Ill or well, he sha'n't lose me five pun, if I 'ave to drag 'im to the
+lock-up m'self," said Mrs. Purr, resolutely. "Where's my bunnet--my
+shawl--oh lor'--five pun! Them is as good allays gits rewards," and she
+hurried out, hardly able to walk for excitement.
+
+"There's a nice ole party fur you, Miss Sylvia?"
+
+"Debby," said the girl, thoughtfully. "You take her to the Yard to see
+Mr. Hurd, and then go to Kensington to speak with your sister."
+
+"Well, I'll go, as importance it is," said Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose
+harder than ever. "But I 'opes you won't be lone, my poppet-dovey."
+
+"Oh, no," said Sylvia, kissing her, and pushing her towards the door.
+"I'll look after those four women in the wash-house, and read this new
+book I have. Then I must get tea ready for Paul, who comes at four. The
+afternoon will pass quite quickly."
+
+"I'll be back at five if I can, and earlier if Matilder ain't what she
+oughter be," said Mrs. Tawsey, yielding. "So make yourself 'appy, honey,
+till you sees me smilin' again."
+
+In another quarter of an hour Mrs. Tawsey, dressed in her bridal gown
+and bonnet so as to crush Matilda with the sight of her splendor, walked
+down the garden path attended by Mrs. Purr in a snuffy black shawl, and
+a kind of cobweb on her head which she called a "bunnet." As Deborah was
+tall and in white and Mrs. Purr small and in black, they looked a
+strange pair. Sylvia waved her hand out of the window to Debby, as that
+faithful creature turned her head for a final look at the young mistress
+she idolized. The large, rough woman was dog-like in her fidelity.
+
+Sylvia, left alone, proceeded to arrange matters. She went to the
+wash-house, which was detached from the cottage, and saw that the four
+women, who worked under Deborah, were busy. She found them all
+chattering and washing in a cheerful way, so, after a word or two of
+commendation, she returned to the sitting-room. Here she played a game
+of patience, arranged the tea-things although it was yet early, and
+finally settled down to one of Mrs. Henry Wood's interesting novels. She
+was quite alone and enjoyed the solitude. The wash-house was so far
+away, at the end of the yard, that the loud voices of the workers could
+not be heard. The road before Rose Cottage was not a popular
+thoroughfare, and it was rarely that anyone passed. Out of the window
+Sylvia could see a line of raw, red-brick villas, and sometimes a spurt
+of steam, denoting the presence of the railway station. Also, she saw
+the green fields and the sere hedges with the red berries, giving
+promise of a hard winter. The day was sunny but cold, and there was a
+feeling of autumnal dampness in the air. Deborah had lighted a fire
+before she went, that her mistress might be comfortable, so Sylvia sat
+down before this and read for an hour, frequently stopping to think of
+Paul, and wonder if he would come at the appointed hour of four or
+earlier. What with the warmth, and the reading, and the dreaming, she
+fell into a kind of doze, from which she was awakened by a sharp and
+peremptory knock. Wondering if her lover had unexpectedly arrived,
+though she did not think he would rap in so decided a manner, Sylvia
+rubbed the sleep out of her pretty eyes and hurried to the door. On the
+step she came face to face with Miss Maud Krill.
+
+"Do you know me, Miss Norman?" asked Maud, who was smiling and suave,
+though rather white in the face.
+
+"Yes. You came with your mother to Gwynne Street," replied Sylvia,
+wondering why she had been honored with a visit.
+
+"Quite so. May I have a few minutes' conversation with you?"
+
+"Certainly." Sylvia saw no reason to deny this request, although she did
+not like Miss Krill. But it struck her that something might be learned
+from that young woman relative to the murder, and thought she would have
+something to tell Paul about when he arrived. "Will you walk in,
+please," and she threw open the sitting-room door.
+
+"Are you quite alone?" asked Maud, entering, and seating herself in the
+chair near the fire.
+
+"Quite," answered Sylvia, stiffly, and wondering why the question was
+asked; "that is, the four washerwomen are in the place at the back. But
+Mrs. Tawsey went to your house to see her sister."
+
+"She arrived before I left," said Maud, coolly. "I saw them quarrelling
+in a most friendly way. Where is Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I expect him later."
+
+"And Bart Tawsey who married your nurse?"
+
+"He is absent on his rounds. May I ask why you question me in this way,
+Miss Krill?" asked Sylvia, coldly.
+
+"Because I have much to say to you which no one else must hear," was the
+calm reply. "Dear me, how hot this fire is!" and she moved her chair so
+that it blocked Sylvia's way to the door. Also, Miss Krill cast a glance
+at the window. It was not snibbed, and she made a movement as if to go
+to it; but, restraining herself, she turned her calm, cold face to the
+girl. "I have much to say to you," she repeated.
+
+"Indeed," replied Sylvia, politely, "I don't think you have treated me
+so well that you should trouble to converse with me. Will you please to
+be brief. Mr. Beecot is coming at four, and he will not be at all
+pleased to see you."
+
+Maud glanced at the clock. "We have an hour," she said coldly; "it is
+just a few minutes after three. My business will not take long," she
+added, with an unpleasant smile.
+
+"What is your business?" asked Sylvia, uneasily, for she did not like
+the smile.
+
+"If you will sit down, I'll tell you."
+
+Miss Norman took a chair near the wall, and as far from her visitor as
+was possible in so small a room. Maud took from her neck a black silk
+handkerchief which she wore, evidently as a protection against the cold,
+and folding it lengthways, laid it across her lap. Then she looked at
+Sylvia, in a cold, critical way. "You are very pretty, my dear," she
+said insolently.
+
+"Did you come to tell me that?" asked the girl, firing up at the tone.
+
+"No. I came to tell you that my mother was arrested last night for the
+murder of _our_ father."
+
+"Oh," Sylvia gasped and lay back on her chair, "she killed him, that
+cruel woman."
+
+"She did not," cried Maud, passionately, "my mother is perfectly
+innocent. That blackguard Hurd arrested her wrongfully. I overheard all
+the conversation he had with her, and know that he told a pack of lies.
+My mother did _not_ kill our father."
+
+"My father, not yours," said Sylvia, firmly.
+
+"How dare you. Lemuel Krill was my father."
+
+"No," insisted Sylvia. "I don't know who your father was. But from your
+age, I know that you are not--"
+
+"Leave my age alone," cried the other sharply, and with an uneasy
+movement of her hands; "we won't discuss that, or the question of my
+father. We have more interesting things to talk about."
+
+"I won't talk to you at all," said Sylvia, rising.
+
+"Sit down and listen. You _shall_ hear me. I am not going to let my
+mother suffer for a deed she never committed, nor am I going to let you
+have the money."
+
+"It is mine."
+
+"It is not, and you shall not get it."
+
+"Paul--Mr. Beecot will assert my rights."
+
+"Will he indeed," said the other, with a glance at the clock; "we'll see
+about that. There's no time to be lost. I have much to say--"
+
+"Nothing that can interest me."
+
+"Oh, yes. I think you will find our conversation very interesting. I am
+going to be open with you, for what I tell you will never be told by you
+to any living soul."
+
+"If I see fit it shall," cried Sylvia in a rage; "how dare you dictate
+to me."
+
+"Because I am driven into a corner. I wish to save my mother--how it is
+to be done I don't know. And I wish to stop you getting the five
+thousand a year. I know how _that_ is to be done," ended Miss Krill,
+with a cruel smile and a flash of her white, hungry-looking teeth; "you
+rat of a girl--"
+
+"Leave the room."
+
+"When I please, not before. You listen to me. I'm going to tell you
+about the murder--"
+
+"Oh," said Sylvia, turning pale, "what do you mean?"
+
+"Listen," said the other, with a taunting laugh, "you'll be white enough
+before I've done with you. Do you see this," and she laid her finger on
+her lips; "do you see this scar? Krill did that." Sylvia noticed that
+she did not speak of Krill as her father this time; "he pinned my lips
+together when I was a child with that opal serpent."
+
+"I know," replied Sylvia, shuddering, "it was cruel. I heard about it
+from the detective and--"
+
+"I don't wish for your sympathy. I was a girl of fifteen when that was
+done, and I will carry the scar to my grave. Child as I was then, I
+vowed revenge--"
+
+"On your father," said Sylvia, contemptuously.
+
+"Krill is not my father," said Maud, changing front all at once; "he is
+yours, but not mine. My father is Captain Jessop. I have known this for
+years. Captain Jessop told me I was his daughter. My mother thought that
+my father was drowned at sea, and so married Krill, who was a traveller
+in jewellery. He and my mother rented 'The Red Pig' at Christchurch, and
+for years they led an unhappy life."
+
+"Oh," gasped Sylvia, "you confess. I'll tell Paul."
+
+"You'll tell no one," retorted the other woman sharply. "Do you think I
+would speak so openly in order that you might tell all the world with
+your gabbling tongue? Yes, and I'll speak more openly still before I
+leave. Lady Rachel Sandal did not commit suicide as my mother said. She
+was strangled, and by me."
+
+Sylvia clapped her hands to her face with a scream. "By you?"
+
+"Yes. She had a beautiful brooch. I wanted it. I was put to bed by my
+mother, and kept thinking of the brooch. My mother was down the stairs
+attending to your drunken father. I stole to Lady Rachel's room and
+found her asleep. I tried to take the brooch from her breast. She woke
+and caught at my hand. But I tore away the brooch and before Lady Rachel
+could scream, I twisted the silk handkerchief she wore, which was
+already round her throat, tighter. I am strong--I was always strong,
+even as a girl of fifteen. She was weak from exhaustion, so she soon
+died. My mother came into the room and saw what I had done. She was
+terrified, and made me go back to bed. Then she tied Lady Rachel by the
+silk handkerchief to the bedpost, so that it might be thought she had
+committed suicide. My mother then came back to me and took the brooch,
+telling me I might be hanged, if it was found on me. I was afraid, being
+only a girl, and gave up the brooch. Then Captain Jessop raised the
+alarm. I and my mother went downstairs, and my mother dropped the brooch
+on the floor, so that it might be supposed Lady Rachel had lost it
+there. Captain Jessop ran out. I wanted to give the alarm, and tell the
+neighbors that Krill had done it--for I knew then he was not my father,
+and I saw, moreover, how unhappy he made my mother. He caught me," said
+Maud, with a fierce look, "and bound a handkerchief across my mouth. I
+got free and screamed. Then he bound me hand and foot, and pinned my
+lips together with the brooch which he picked off the floor. My mother
+fought for me, but he knocked her down. Then he fled, and after a long
+time Jessop came in. He removed the brooch from my mouth and unbound me.
+I was put to bed, and Jessop revived my mother. Then came the inquest,
+and it was thought that Lady Rachel had committed suicide. But she did
+not," cried Maud, exultingly, and with a cruel light in her eyes, "I
+killed her--I--"
+
+"Oh," moaned Sylvia, backing against the wall with widely open eyes;
+"don't tell me more--what horrors!"
+
+"Bah, you kitten," sneered Maud, contemptuously, "I have not half done
+yet. You have yet to hear how I killed Krill."
+
+Sylvia shrieked, and sank back in her chair, staring with horrified eyes
+at the cruel face before her.
+
+"Yes," cried Maud, exultingly, "I killed him. My mother suspected me,
+but she never knew for certain. Listen. When Hay told me that Krill was
+hiding as Norman in Gwynne Street I determined to punish him for his
+cruelty to me. I did not say this, but I made Hay promise to get me the
+brooch from Beecot--on no other condition would I marry him. I wanted
+the brooch to pin Krill's lips together as he had pinned mine, when I
+was a helpless child. But your fool of a lover would not part with the
+brooch. Tray, the boy, took it from Beecot's pocket when he met with
+that accident--"
+
+"How do you know Tray?"
+
+"Because I met him at Pash's office several times when I was up. He ran
+errands for Pash before he became regularly employed. I saw that Tray
+was a devil, of whom I could make use. Oh, I know Tray, and I know also
+Hokar the Indian, who placed the sugar on the counter. He went to the
+shop to kill your father at my request. I wanted revenge and the money.
+Hokar was saved from starvation by my good mother. He came of the race
+of Thugs, if you know anything about them--"
+
+"Oh," moaned Sylvia, covering her face again.
+
+"Ah, you do. So much the better. It will save my explaining, as there is
+not much time left before your fool arrives. Hokar saw that I loved to
+hurt living creatures, and he taught me how to strangle cats and dogs
+and things. No one knew but Hokar that I killed them, and it was thought
+he ate them. But he didn't. I strangled them because I loved to see them
+suffer, and because I wished to learn how to strangle in the way the
+Thugs did."
+
+Sylvia was sick with fear and disgust. "For God's sake, don't tell me
+any more," she said imploringly.
+
+But she might as well have spoken to a granite rock. "You shall hear
+everything," said Maud, relentlessly. "I asked Hokar to strangle Krill.
+He went to the shop, but, when he saw that Krill had only one eye, he
+could not offer him to the goddess Bhowanee. He came to me at Judson's
+hotel, after he left the sugar on the counter, and told me the goddess
+would not accept the offering of a maimed man. I did not know what to
+do. I went with my mother to Pash's office, when she was arranging to
+prosecute Krill for bigamy. I met Tray there. He told me he had given
+the brooch to Pash, and that it was in the inner office. My mother was
+talking to Pash within and I chatted to Tray outside. I told Tray I
+wanted to kill Krill, and that if he would help me, I would give him a
+lot of money. He agreed, for he was a boy such as I was when a girl,
+fond of seeing things suffer. You can't wonder at it in me," went on
+Miss Krill, coolly; "my grandmother was hanged for poisoning my
+grandfather, and I expect I inherit the love of murder from her--"
+
+"I won't listen," cried Sylvia, shuddering.
+
+"Oh, yes, you will. I'll soon be done," went on her persecutor, cruelly.
+"Well, then, when I found Tray was like myself I determined to get the
+brooch and hurt Krill--hurt him as he hurt me," she cried vehemently.
+"Tray told me of the cellar and of the side passage. When my mother and
+Pash came out of the inner office and went to the door, I ran in and
+took the brooch. It was hidden under some papers and had escaped my
+mother's eye. But I searched till I got it. Then I made an appointment
+with Tray for eleven o'clock at the corner of Gwynne Street. I went back
+to Judson's hotel, and my mother and I went to the theatre. We had
+supper and retired to bed. That is, my mother did. We had left the
+theatre early, as my mother had a headache, and I had plenty of time.
+Mother fell asleep almost immediately. I went downstairs veiled, and in
+dark clothes. I slipped past the night porter and met Tray. We went by
+the side passage to the cellar. Thinking we were customers Krill let us
+in. Tray locked the door, and I threw myself on Krill. He had not been
+drinking much or I might not have mastered him. As it was, he was too
+terrified when he recognized me to struggle. In fact he fainted. With
+Tray's assistance I bound his hands behind his back, and then we enjoyed
+ourselves," she rubbed her hands together, looking more like a fiend
+than a woman.
+
+Sylvia rose and staggered to the door. "No more--no more."
+
+Maud pushed her back into her chair. "Stop where you are, you whimpering
+fool!" she snarled exultingly, "I have you safe." Then she continued
+quickly and with another glance at the clock, the long hand of which now
+pointed to a quarter to four, "with Tray's assistance I carried Krill up
+to the shop. Tray found an auger and bored a hole in the floor. Then I
+picked up a coil of copper wire, which was being used in packing things
+for Krill to make his escape. I took it up. We laid Krill's neck over
+the hole, and passed the wire round his neck and through the hole. Tray
+went down and tied a cross stick on the end of the wire, so that he
+could put his weight on it when we strangled--"
+
+"Oh--great heaven," moaned Sylvia, stopping her ears.
+
+Maud bent over her and pulled her hands away. "You _shall_ hear you
+little beast," she snarled. "All the time Krill was sensible. He
+recovered his senses after he was bound. I prolonged his agony as much
+as possible. When Tray went down to see after the wire, I knelt beside
+Krill and told him that I knew I was not his daughter, that I intended
+to strangle him as I had strangled Lady Rachel. He shrieked with horror.
+That was the cry you heard, you cat, and which brought you downstairs. I
+never expected that," cried Maud, clapping her hands; "that was a treat
+for Krill I never intended. I stopped his crying any more for assistance
+by pinning his mouth together, as he had done mine over twenty years
+before. Then I sat beside him and taunted him. I heard the policeman
+pass, and the church clock strike the quarter. Then I heard footsteps,
+and guessed you were coming. It occurred to me to give you a treat by
+strangling the man before your eyes, and punish him more severely, since
+the brooch stopped him calling out--as it stopped me--me," she cried,
+striking her breast.
+
+"Oh, how could you--how could--"
+
+"You feeble thing," said Maud, contemptuously, and patting the girl's
+cheek, "you would not have done it I know. But I loved it--I loved it!
+That was living indeed. I went down to the cellar and fastened the door
+behind me. Tray was already pressing on the cross stick at the end of
+the wire, and laughed as he pressed. But I stopped him. I heard you and
+that woman enter the shop, and heard what you said. I prolonged Krill's
+agony, and then I pressed the wire down myself for such a time as I
+thought it would take to squeeze the life out of the beast. Then with
+Tray I locked the cellar door and left by the side passage. We dodged
+all the police and got into the Strand. I did not return to the hotel,
+but walked about with Tray all the night talking with--joy," cried Maud,
+clapping her hands, "with joy, do you hear. When it was eight I went to
+Judson's. The porter thought I had been out for an early walk. My
+mother--"
+
+Here Maud broke off, for Sylvia, who was staring over her shoulder out
+of the window saw a form she knew well at the gate. "Paul--Paul," she
+shrieked, "come--come!"
+
+Maud whipped the black silk handkerchief round the girl's neck. "You
+shall never get that money," she whispered cruelly, "you shall never
+tell anyone what I have told you. Now I'll show you how Hokar taught
+me," she jerked the handkerchief tight. But Sylvia got her hand under
+the cruel bandage and shrieked aloud in despair. At once she heard an
+answering shriek. It was the voice of Deborah.
+
+Maud darted to the door and locked it. Then she returned and, flinging
+Sylvia down, tried again to tighten the handkerchief, her face white and
+fierce and her eyes glittering like a demon's.
+
+"Help--help!" cried Sylvia, and her voice grew weaker. But she struggled
+and kept her hands between the handkerchief and her throat. Maud tried
+to drag them away fiercely. Deborah was battering frantically at the
+door. Paul ran round to the window. It was not locked, and Maud,
+struggling with Sylvia had no time to close it. With a cry of alarm Paul
+threw up the window and jumped into the room. At the same moment
+Deborah, putting her sturdy shoulder to the frail door, burst it open.
+Beecot flung himself on the woman and dragged her back. But she clung
+like a leech to Sylvia with the black handkerchief in her grip. Deborah,
+silent and fierce, grabbed at the handkerchief, and tore it from Maud's
+grasp. Sylvia, half-strangled, fell back in a faint, white as a corpse,
+while Paul struggled with the savage and baffled woman.
+
+"You've killed her," shouted Deborah, and laid her strong hands on Maud,
+"you devil!" She shook her fiercely. "I'll kill you," and she shook her
+again.
+
+Paul threw himself on his knees beside the insensible form of Sylvia and
+left Deborah to deal with Maud. That creature was gasping as Mrs. Tawsey
+swung her to and fro. Then she began to fight, and the two women crashed
+round the little room, upsetting the furniture. Paul took Sylvia in his
+arms, and shrank against the wall to protect her.
+
+A new person suddenly appeared. No less a woman than Matilda. When she
+saw Maud in Deborah's grip she flew at her sister like a tigress and
+dragged her off. Maud was free for a moment. Seeing her chance she
+scrambled out of the window, and ran through the garden down the road
+towards the station. Perhaps she had a vague idea of escape. Deborah,
+exerting her great strength, threw Matilda aside, and without a cry ran
+out of the house and after the assassin who had tried to strangle
+Sylvia. Matilda, true to her salt, ran also, to help Maud Krill, and the
+two women sped in the wake of the insane creature who was swiftly
+running in the direction of the station. People began to look round, a
+crowd gathered like magic, and in a few moments Maud was being chased by
+quite a mob of people. She ran like a hare. Heaven only knows if she
+hoped to escape after her failure to kill Sylvia, but she ran on
+blindly. Into the new street of Jubileetown she sped with the roaring
+mob at her heels. She darted down a side thoroughfare, but Deborah
+gained on her silently and with a savage look in her eyes. Several
+policemen joined in the chase, though no one knew what the flying woman
+had done. Maud turned suddenly up the slope that led to the station. She
+gained the door, darted through it, upset the man at the barrier and
+with clenched fists stood at bay, her back to the rails. Deborah darted
+forward--Maud gave a wild scream and sprang aside: then she reeled and
+fell over the platform. The next moment a train came slowing into the
+station, and immediately the wretched woman was under the cruel wheels.
+When she was picked up she was dead and almost cut to pieces. Lady
+Rachel and Lemuel Krill were revenged.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+A FINAL EXPLANATION
+
+
+Sylvia was ill for a long time after that terrible hour. Although Maud
+had not succeeded in strangling her, yet the black silk handkerchief
+left marks on her neck. Then the struggle, the shock and the remembrance
+of the horrors related by the miserable woman, threw her into a nervous
+fever, and it was many weeks before she recovered sufficiently to enjoy
+life. Deborah never forgave herself for having left Sylvia alone, and
+nursed her with a fierce tenderness which was the result of remorse.
+
+"If that wretch 'ad killed my pretty," she said to Paul, "I'd ha' killed
+her, if I wos hanged fur it five times over."
+
+"God has punished the woman," said Paul, solemnly. "And a terrible death
+she met with, being mutilated by the wheels of the train."
+
+"Serve 'er right," rejoined Deborah, heartlessly. "What kin you expect
+fur good folk if wicked ones, as go strangulating people, don't git the
+Lord down on 'em. Oh, Mr. Beecot," Deborah broke down into noisy tears,
+"the 'orrors that my lovely one 'ave tole me. I tried to stop her, but
+she would tork, and was what you might call delirous-like. Sich murders
+and gory assassins as wos never 'eard of."
+
+"I gathered something of this from what Sylvia let drop when we came
+back from the station," said Beecot, anxiously. "Tell me exactly what
+she said, Deborah."
+
+"Why that thing as is dead, an' may she rest in a peace, she don't
+deserve, tole 'ow she murdered Lady Rachel Sandal an' my ole master."
+
+"Deborah," cried Beecot, amazed. "You must be mistaken."
+
+"No, I ain't, sir. That thing guv my lily-queen the 'orrors. Jes you
+'ear, Mr. Beecot, and creeps will go up your back. Lor' 'ave mercy on us
+as don't know the wickedness of the world."
+
+"I think we have learned something of it lately, Mrs. Tawsey," was
+Paul's grim reply. "But tell me--"
+
+"Wot my pore angel sunbeam said? I will, and if it gives you nightmares
+don't blame me," and Mrs. Tawsey, in her own vigorous, ungrammatical
+way, related what she had heard from Sylvia. Paul was struck with horror
+and wanted to see Sylvia. But this Deborah would not allow. "She's
+sleepin' like a pretty daisy," said Mrs. Tawsey, "so don't you go
+a-disturbin' of her nohow, though acrost my corp you may make a try, say
+what you like."
+
+But Paul thought better of it, thinking Sylvia had best be left in the
+rough, kindly hands of her old nurse. He went off to find Hurd, and
+related all that had taken place. The detective was equally horrified
+along with Beecot when he heard of Sylvia's danger, and set to work to
+prove the truth of what Maud had told the girl. He succeeded so well
+that within a comparatively short space of time, the whole matter was
+made clear. Mrs. Jessop, _alias_ Mrs. Krill, was examined, Tray was
+found and questioned, Matilda was made to speak out, and both Jessop and
+Hokar had to make clean breasts of it. The evidence thus procured proved
+the truth of the terrible confession made by Maud Jessop to the girl she
+thought to strangle. Hurd was amazed at the revelation.
+
+"Never call me a detective again," he said to Paul. "For I am an ass. I
+thought Jessop might be guilty, or that Hokar might have done it. I
+could have taken my Bible oath that Mrs. Krill strangled the man; but I
+never for one moment suspected that smiling young woman."
+
+"Oh," Paul shrugged his shoulders, "she was mad."
+
+"She must have been," ruminated the detective, "else she wouldn't have
+given herself away so completely. Whatever made her tell Miss Norman
+what she had done?"
+
+"Because she never thought that Sylvia would live to tell anyone else.
+That was why she spoke, and thought to torture Sylvia--as she did--in
+the same way as she tortured that wretched man Lemuel. If I hadn't come
+earlier to Rose Cottage than usual, and if Deborah had not met me
+unexpectedly at the station, Sylvia would certainly have been killed.
+And then Maud might have escaped. She laid her plans well. It was she
+who induced Matilda to get her sister to come to Kensington for a chat."
+
+"But Matilda didn't know what Maud was up to?"
+
+"No. Matilda never guessed that Maud was guilty of two murders or
+designed to strangle Sylvia. But Maud made use of her to get Deborah out
+of the house, and it was Maud who made Tray send the letter asking Mrs.
+Purr to come to him, so that she also might be out of the way. In fact
+Maud arranged so that everyone should be away and Sylvia alone. If she
+hadn't wasted time in telling her fearful story, she might have killed
+my poor love. Sylvia was quite exhausted with the struggle."
+
+"Well," said Hurd. "I went with the old woman to the address given in
+that letter which Tray got written for him. He wasn't there, however, so
+I might have guessed it was a do."
+
+"But you have caught him?"
+
+"Yes, in Hunter Street. He was loafing about there at night waiting for
+Maud, and quite ignorant of her death. I made him tell me everything of
+his connection with the matter. He's as bad a lot as that girl, but she
+had some excuse, seeing her grandmother was a murderess; Tray is nothing
+but a wicked little imp."
+
+"Will he be hanged?"
+
+"No, I think not. His youth will be in his favor, though I'd hang him
+myself had I the chance, and so put him beyond the reach of hurting
+anyone. But I expect he'll get a long sentence."
+
+"And Mrs. Krill?"
+
+"Mrs. Jessop you mean. Hum! I don't know. She apparently was ignorant
+that Maud killed Krill, though she might have guessed it, after the way
+in which Lady Rachel was murdered. I daresay she'll get off. I'm going
+to see her shortly and tell her of the terrible death of her daughter."
+
+Paul did not pursue the conversation. He was sick with the horror of the
+business, and, moreover, was too anxious about Sylvia's health to take
+much interest in the winding up of the case. That he left in the hands
+of Hurd, and assured him that the thousand pounds reward, which Mrs.
+Krill had offered, would be paid to him by Miss Norman.
+
+Of course, Pash had known for some time that Maud was too old to have
+been born of Mrs. Jessop's second marriage with Krill; but he never knew
+that the widow had committed bigamy. He counted on keeping her under his
+thumb by threatening to prove that Maud was not legally entitled to the
+money. But when the discovery was made at Beechill and Stowley Churches
+by Miss Qian, the monkey-faced lawyer could do nothing. Beecot could
+have exposed him, and for his malpractices have got him struck off the
+rolls; but he simply punished him by taking away Sylvia's business and
+giving it to Ford. That enterprising young solicitor speedily placed
+the monetary affairs on a proper basis and saw that Sylvia was properly
+reinstated in her rights. Seeing that she was the only child and legal
+heiress of Krill, this was not difficult. The two women who had
+illegally secured possession of the money had spent a great deal in a
+very wasteful manner, but the dead man's investments were so excellent
+and judicious that Sylvia lost comparatively little, and became
+possessed of nearly five thousand a year, with a prospect of her income
+increasing. But she was too ill to appreciate this good fortune. The
+case got into the papers, and everyone was astonished at the strange
+sequel to the Gwynne Street mystery. Beecot senior, reading the papers,
+learned that Sylvia was once more an heiress, and forthwith held out an
+olive branch to Paul. Moreover, the frantic old gentleman, as Deborah
+called him, really began to feel his years, and to feel also that he had
+treated his only son rather harshly. So he magnanimously offered to
+forgive Paul on no conditions whatsoever. For the sake of his mother,
+the young man buried the past and went down to be received in a stately
+manner by his father, and with joyful tears by his mother. Also he was
+most anxious to hear details of the case which had not been made public.
+Paul told him everything, and Beecot senior snorted with rage. The
+recital proved too much for Mrs. Beecot, who retired as usual to bed and
+fortified herself with sal volatile; but Paul and his respected parent
+sat up till late discussing the matter.
+
+"And now, sir," said Beecot senior, grasping the stem of his wine glass,
+as though he intended to hurl it at his son, "let us gather up the
+threads of this infamous case. This atrocious woman who tried to
+strangle your future wife?"
+
+"She has been buried quietly. Her mother was at the funeral and so was
+the father."
+
+"A pretty pair," gobbled the turkey-cock, growing red. "I suppose the
+Government will hang the pair?"
+
+"No. Captain Jessop can't be touched as he had nothing to do with the
+murder, and Sylvia and myself are not going to prosecute him for his
+attempt to get the jewels from Pash."
+
+"Then you ought to. It's a duty you owe to society."
+
+Paul shook his head. "I think it best to leave things as they are,
+father," he said mildly, "especially as Mrs. Jessop, much broken in
+health because of her daughter's terrible end, has gone back with her
+husband to live at his house in Stowley."
+
+"What," shouted Beecot senior, "is that she-devil to go free, too?"
+
+"I don't think she was so bad as we thought," said Paul. "I fancied she
+was a thoroughly bad woman, but she really was not. She certainly
+committed bigamy, but then she thought Jessop was drowned. When he came
+to life she preferred to live with Krill, as he had more money than
+Jessop."
+
+"And, therefore, Jessop, as you say, had free quarters at 'The Red Pig.'
+A most immoral woman, sir--most immoral. She ought to be ducked."
+
+"Poor wretch," said Paul, "her mind has nearly given way under the shock
+of her daughter's death. She loved that child and shielded her from the
+consequences of killing Lady Rachel. The Sandal family don't want the
+case revived, especially as Maud is dead, so Mrs. Jessop--as she is
+now--can end her days in peace. The Government decided to let her go
+under the circumstances."
+
+"Tush," said Beecot senior, "sugar-coated pills and idiocy. Nothing will
+ever be done properly until this Government goes out. And it will,"
+striking the table with his fist, "if I have anything to do with the
+matter. So Mrs. Krill or Jessop is free to murder, and--"
+
+"She murdered no one," interposed Paul, quickly; "she knew that her
+daughter had killed Lady Rachel, and shielded her. But she was never
+sure if Maud had strangled Krill, as she feared to ask her. But as the
+girl was out all night at the time of the murder, Mrs. Jessop, I think,
+knows more than she choses to admit. However, the Treasury won't
+prosecute her, and her mind is now weak. Let the poor creature end her
+days with Jessop, father. Is there anything else you wish to know?"
+
+"That boy Tray?"
+
+"He was tried for being an accessory before the crime, but his counsel
+put forward the plea of his age, and that he had been under the
+influence of Maud. He has been sent to a reformatory for a good number
+of years. He may improve."
+
+"Huh!" grunted the old gentleman, "and silk purses may be made out of
+sow's ears; but not in our time, my boy. We'll hear more of that
+juvenile scoundrel yet. Now that, that blackguard, Hay?"
+
+"He has gone abroad, and is likely to remain abroad. Sandal and Tempest
+kept their word, but I think Hurd put it about that Hay was a cheat and
+a scoundrel. Poor Hay," sighed Paul, "he has ruined his career."
+
+"Bah! he never had one. If you pity scoundrels, Paul, what are you to
+think of good people?"
+
+"Such as Deborah who is nursing my darling? I think she's the best woman
+in the world."
+
+"Except your mother?"
+
+Paul nearly fell from his seat on hearing this remark. Beecot senior
+certainly might have been in earnest, but his good opinion did not
+prevent him still continuing to worry Mrs. Beecot, which he did to the
+end of her life.
+
+"I suppose that Matilda Junk creature had nothing to do with the
+murder?" asked Beecot, after an embarrassing pause--on his son's part.
+
+"No. She knew absolutely nothing, and only attacked Deborah because she
+fancied Deborah was attacking Maud. However, the two sisters have made
+it up, and Matilda has gone back to 'The Red Pig.' She's as decent a
+creature as Deborah, in another way, and was absolutely ignorant of
+Maud's wickedness. Hurd guessed that when she spoke to him so freely at
+Christchurch."
+
+"And the Thug?"
+
+"Hokar? Oh, he is not really a Thug, but the descendant of one. However,
+they can't prove that he strangled anything beyond a few cats and dogs
+when he showed Maud how to use the roomal--that's the handkerchief with
+which the Thugs strangled their victims."
+
+"I'm not absolutely ignorant," growled his father. "I know that. So this
+Hokar goes free?"
+
+"Yes. He would not strangle Aaron Norman because he had but one eye, and
+Bhowanee won't accept maimed persons. Failing him, Maud had to attend to
+the job herself, with the assistance of Tray."
+
+"And this detective?"
+
+"Oh, Ford, with Sylvia's sanction, has paid him the thousand pounds,
+which he shares with his sister, Aurora Qian. But for her searching at
+Stowley and Beechill, we should never have known about the marriage, you
+know."
+
+"No, I don't know. They're far too highly paid. The marriage would have
+come to light in another way. However, waste your own money if you like;
+it isn't mine."
+
+"Nor mine either, father," said Paul, sharply. "Sylvia will keep her own
+fortune. I am not a man to live on my wife. I intend to take a house in
+town when we are married, and then I'll still continue to write."
+
+"Without the spur of poverty you'll never make a hit," grinned the old
+gentleman. "However, you can live where you please. It's no business of
+mine but I demand, as your indulgent father, that you'll bring Sylvia
+down here at least three times a year. Whenever she is well I want to
+see her."
+
+"I'll bring her next week," said Paul, thinking of his mother. "But
+Deborah must come too. She won't leave Sylvia."
+
+"The house is big enough. Bring Mrs. Tawsey also--I'm rather anxious to
+see her. And Sylvia will be a good companion for your mother."
+
+So matters were arranged in this way, and when Paul returned to town he
+went at once to tell Sylvia of the reconciliation. He found her, propped
+up with pillows, seated by the fire, looking much better, although she
+was still thin and rather haggard. Deborah hovered round her and spoke
+in a cautious whisper, which was more annoying than a loud voice would
+have been. Sylvia flushed with joy when she saw Paul, and flushed still
+more when she heard the good news.
+
+"I am so glad, darling," she said, holding Paul's hand in her thin ones.
+"I should not have liked our marriage to have kept you from your
+father."
+
+Mrs. Tawsey snorted. "His frantic par," she said, "ah, well, when I meet
+'im, if he dares to say a word agin my pretty--"
+
+"My father is quite ready to welcome her as a daughter," said Paul,
+quickly.
+
+"An' no poor one either," cried Deborah, triumphantly. "Five thousand a
+year, as that nice young man Mr. Ford have told us is right. Lor'! my
+lovely queen, you'll drive in your chariot and forget Debby."
+
+"You foolish old thing," said the girl, fondly, "you held to me in my
+troubles and you shall share in my joy."
+
+"Allays purvidin' I don't 'ave to leave the laundry in charge of Bart
+an' Mrs. Purr, both bein' infants of silliness, one with gin and t'other
+with weakness of brain. It's well I made Bart promise to love, honor and
+obey me, Mr. Beecot, the same as you must do to my own lily flower
+there."
+
+"No, _I_ am to love, honor and obey Paul," cried Sylvia.
+
+"When?" he asked, taking her in his arms.
+
+"As soon as I can stand at the altar," she replied, blushing, whereat
+Deborah clapped her hands.
+
+"Weddin's an' weddin's an' weddin's agin," cried Mrs. Tawsey, "which my
+sister Matilder being weary of 'er spinstering 'ome 'ave made up 'er
+mind to marry the fust as offers. An' won't she lead 'im a dance
+neither--oh, no, not at all."
+
+"Well, Deborah," said Beecot, "we have much to be thankful for, all of
+us. Let us try and show our gratitude in our lives."
+
+"Ah, well, you may say that," sighed Mrs. Tawsey, in a devout manner.
+"Who'd ha' thought things would have turned out so 'appy-like indeed.
+But you go on with your billin', my lovely ones, and I'll git th'
+mutting broth to put color int' my pretty's cheeks," and she bustled
+out.
+
+Sylvia's heart was too full to say anything. She lay in Paul's strong
+arms, her cheek against his. There she would remain for the rest of her
+life, protected from storm and tempest. And as they sat in silence, the
+chimes of an ancient grandfather's clock, Deborah's chief treasure, rang
+out twice, thrice and again. Paul laughed softly.
+
+"It's like wedding-bells," he whispered, and his future wife sighed a
+sigh of heart-felt joy.
+
+
+                                  THE END
+
+
+
+
+THE BEST NOVELS BY FERGUS HUME
+
+The Mystery of a Hansom Cab                                     $1.25
+
+The Sealed Message                                               1.25
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+Claude Duval of Ninety-five                                      1.25
+
+The Rainbow Feather                                              1.25
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+The Pagan's Cup                                                  1.25
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+A Coin of Edward VII                                             1.25
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+The Yellow Holly                                                 1.25
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+The Red Window                                                   1.25
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+The Secret Passage                                               1.25
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+The Opal Serpent                                                 1.25
+
+Lady Jim of Curzon Street                                        1.50
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+The advert ("The Best Novels by Fergus Hume") was originally at the
+front of the book, but has been moved to the end.
+
+The following typographical corrections have been made:
+
+(page 8) "furthur" changed to "further"
+(page 11) "Notebook" changed to "Note-book"
+(page 33) "lookout" changed to "look-out"
+(page 49) "eyeglass" changed to "eye-glass"
+(page 59) "hand-bag" changed to "handbag"
+(pages 71, 85) "agoin'" changed to "a-goin'"
+(page 71) "It" changed to "If" in "If we come to"
+(page 84) quotation mark added after "look--look--"
+(page 109) "Deborrah" changed to "Deborah"
+(page 111) quotation mark added before "How dare you"
+(page 113) "pou" changed to "you" ("before you became an heiress")
+(page 132) "is" changed to "it" ("that is was picked up")
+(page 140) "mid-night" changed to "midnight"
+(page 163) "schoolfellow" changed to "school-fellow"
+(page 173) "non-plussed" changed to "nonplussed"
+(page 180) "handbills" changed to "hand-bills"
+(page 188) "beliving" changed to "believing"
+(pages 203, 204) "bed-post" changed to "bedpost"
+(page 214) "sipte" changed to "spite"
+(page 211) used single quotation marks for the inscription
+(page 225) quotation mark added before "On no condition"
+(page 243) quotation mark added after "seem to win,"
+(page 264) quotation mark added before "for I"
+(page 269) quotation mark added after "certificate."
+(page 276) question mark added after "lawyer you are"
+(page 303) "pining" changed to "pinning"
+(page 315) "slience" changed to "silence"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Opal Serpent, by Fergus Hume
+
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+by Fergus Hume.</title>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Opal Serpent, by Fergus Hume
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Opal Serpent
+
+Author: Fergus Hume
+
+Release Date: March 6, 2008 [EBook #24769]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OPAL SERPENT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Andrew Wainwright, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>The Opal Serpent</h1>
+
+<h3>By</h3>
+
+<h2>Fergus Hume</h2>
+
+<p class="center smaller">AUTHOR OF</p>
+
+<p class="center smaller caption">"THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," "THE RAINBOW FEATHER,"<br />
+"A COIN OF EDWARD VII.," "THE PAGAN'S CUP,"<br />
+"THE SECRET PASSAGE," "THE RED WINDOW,"<br />
+"THE MANDARIN'S FAN," ETC.</p>
+
+<table summary="Publishers G. W. Dillingham">
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="left spacey">G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left smallish">PUBLISHERS</td><td class="right smallish smspacey">NEW YORK</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1905 by</span><br />
+G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Issued July, 1905.</i></p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 405px;">
+<img src="images/sucosp.jpg" width="405" height="478" alt="Cover" title="Cover" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/sutp300.jpg" width="300" height="478" alt="Title Page" title="Title Page" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 497px;">
+<img src="images/sufrontis01.jpg" width="497" height="750" alt="Frontispiece" title="Frontispiece" />
+<span class="caption">"LOOK! LOOK!" CRIED SYLVIA,
+GASPING&mdash;"THE MOUTH!"&mdash;<a href="#Page_80"><i>Page
+80.</i></a></span>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">DON QUIXOTE IN LONDON</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">DEBORAH JUNK, DUENNA</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">DULCINEA OF GWYNNE STREET</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">THE UNFORESEEN</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">TROUBLE</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">A NOISE IN THE NIGHT</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">A TERRIBLE NIGHT</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">THE VERDICT OF THE JURY</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CASTLES IN THE AIR</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">A BOLT FROM THE BLUE</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">A CUCKOO IN THE NEST</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">THE NEW LIFE</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">THE DETECTIVE'S VIEWS</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">MR. HAY'S LITTLE DINNER</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">A NEW CLUE</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XVI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">SYLVIA'S THEORY</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>XVII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">HURD'S INFORMATION</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XVIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">AT CHRISTCHURCH, HANTS</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XIX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CAPTAIN JESSOP</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">PART OF THE TRUTH</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XXI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">MISS QIAN'S PARTY</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XXII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">FURTHER EVIDENCE</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XXIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">WHAT PASH SAID</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XXIV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">MRS. KRILL AT BAY</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XXV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">A CRUEL WOMAN</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XXVI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">A FINAL EXPLANATION</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h1>The Opal Serpent</h1>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">DON QUIXOTE IN LONDON</p>
+
+<p>Simon Beecot was a country gentleman with a small income, a small estate
+and a mind considerably smaller than either. He dwelt at Wargrove in
+Essex and spent his idle hours&mdash;of which he possessed a daily and
+nightly twenty-four&mdash;in snarling at his faded wife and in snapping
+between whiles at his son. Mrs. Beecot, having been bullied into old age
+long before her time, accepted sour looks and hard words as necessary to
+God's providence, but Paul, a fiery youth, resented useless nagging. He
+owned more brain-power than his progenitor, and to this favoring of
+Nature paterfamilias naturally objected. Paul also desired fame, which
+was likewise a crime in the fire-side tyrant's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>As there were no other children Paul was heir to the Beecot acres,
+therefore their present proprietor suggested that his son should wait
+with idle hands for the falling in of the heritage. In plain words, Mr.
+Beecot, coming of a long line of middle-class loafers, wished his son to
+be a loafer also. Again, when Mrs. Beecot retired to a tearful rest, her
+bully found Paul a useful person on whom to expend his spleen. Should
+this whipping-boy leave, Mr. Beecot would have to forego this enjoyment,
+as servants object to being sworn at without cause. For
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
+years Mr. Beecot indulged in bouts of bad temper, till Paul, finding
+twenty-five too dignified an age to tolerate abuse, announced his
+intention of storming London as a scribbler.</p>
+
+<p>The parents objected in detail. Mrs. Beecot, after her kind, dissolved
+in tears, and made reference to young birds leaving the nest, while her
+husband, puffed out like a frog, and redder than the wattles of a
+turkey-cock, exhausted himself in well-chosen expressions. Paul
+increased the use of these by fixing a day for his departure. The female
+Beecot retired to bed with the assistance of a maid, burnt feathers and
+sal volatile, and the male, as a last and clinching argument,
+figuratively buttoned up his pockets.</p>
+
+<p>"Not one shilling will you get from me," said Beecot senior, with the
+graceful addition of vigorous adjectives.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't ask for money," said Paul, keeping his temper, for after all
+the turkey-cock was his father. "I have saved fifty pounds. Not out of
+my pocket-money," he added hastily, seeing further objections on the
+way. "I earned it by writing short stories."</p>
+
+<p>"The confounded mercantile instinct," snorted paterfamilias, only he
+used stronger words. "Your mother's uncle was in trade. Thank Heaven
+none of my people ever used hands or brains. The Beecots lived like
+gentlemen."</p>
+
+<p>"I should say like cabbages from your description, father."</p>
+
+<p>"No insolence, sir. How dare you disgrace your family? Writing tales
+indeed! Rubbish I expect" (here several adjectives). "And you took money
+I'll be bound, eh! eh!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have just informed you that I took all I could get," said Beecot
+junior, quietly. "I'll live in Town on my savings. When I make a name
+and a fortune I'll return."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Never! never!" gobbled the turkey-cock. "If you descend to the gutter
+you can wallow there. I'll cut you out of my will."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir, that's settled. Let us change the subject."</p>
+
+<p>But the old gentleman was too high-spirited to leave well alone. He
+demanded to know if Paul knew to whom he was talking, inquired if he had
+read the Bible touching the duties of children to their parents,
+instanced the fact that Paul's dear mother would probably pine away and
+die, and ended with a pathetic reference to losing the prop of his old
+age. Paul listened respectfully and held to his own opinion. In defence
+of the same he replied in detail,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I am aware that I talk to my father, sir," said he, with spirit; "you
+never allow me to forget that fact. If another man spoke to me as you do
+I should probably break his head. I <i>have</i> read the Bible, and find
+therein that parents owe a duty to their children, which certainly does
+not include being abused like a pick-pocket. My mother will not pine
+away if you will leave her alone for at least three hours a day. And as
+to my being the prop of your old age, your vigor of language assures me
+that you are strong enough to stand alone."</p>
+
+<p>Paterfamilias, never bearded before, hastily drank a glass of port&mdash;the
+two were enjoying the usual pleasant family meal when the conversation
+took place&mdash;and said&mdash;but it is useless to detail his remarks. They were
+all sound and no sense. In justice to himself, and out of pity for his
+father, Paul cut short the scene by leaving the room with his
+determination unchanged. Mr. Beecot thereupon retired to bed, and
+lectured his wife on the enormity of having brought a parricide into the
+world. Having been countered for once in his life with common-sense, he
+felt that he could not put the matter too
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
+strongly to a woman, who was too weak to resent his bullying.</p>
+
+<p>Early next day the cause of the commotion, not having swerved a
+hair's-breadth from the path he had marked out, took leave of his
+mother, and a formal farewell of the gentleman who described himself as
+the best of fathers. Beecot senior, turkey-cock and tyrant, was more
+subdued now that he found bluster would not carry his point. But the
+wave of common-sense came too late. Paul departed bag and baggage, and
+his sire swore to the empty air. Even Mrs. Beecot was not available, as
+she had fainted.</p>
+
+<p>Once Paul was fairly out of the house paterfamilias announced that the
+glory of Israel had departed, removed his son's photograph from the
+drawing-room, and considered which of the relatives he had quarrelled
+with he should adopt. Privately, he thought he had been a trifle hard on
+the lad, and but for his obstinacy&mdash;which he called firmness&mdash;he would
+have recalled the prodigal. But that enterprising adventurer was beyond
+hearing, and had left no address behind him. Beecot, the bully, was not
+a bad old boy if only he had been firmly dealt with, so he acknowledged
+that Paul had a fine spirit of his own, inherited from himself, and
+prophesied incorrectly. "He'll come back when the fifty pounds is
+exhausted," said he in a kind of dejected rage, "and when he does&mdash;" A
+clenched fist shaken at nothing terminated the speech and showed that
+the leopard could not change his spots.</p>
+
+<p>So Paul Beecot repaired to London, and after the orthodox fashion began
+to cultivate the Muses on a little oatmeal by renting a Bloomsbury
+garret. There he wrote reams on all subjects and in all styles, and for
+six months assiduously haunted publishers' doors with varying fortunes.
+Sometimes he came away with a cheque, but more often with a bulky
+manuscript bulging his pocket. When tired
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
+of setting down imaginary woes he had time to think of his own; but
+being a cheerful youth, with an indomitable spirit, he banished trouble
+by interesting himself in the cheap world. By this is meant the world
+which costs no money to view&mdash;the world of the street. Here he
+witnessed the drama of humanity from morning till night, and from sunset
+till dawn, and on the whole witnessed very good acting. The poorer parts
+in the human comedy were particularly well played, and starving folks
+were quite dramatic in their demands for food. Note-book in hand, Paul
+witnessed spectacular shows in the West End, grotesque farces in the
+Strand, melodrama in Whitechapel and tragedy on Waterloo Bridge at
+midnight. Indeed, he quite spoiled the effect of a sensation scene by
+tugging at the skirts of a starving heroine who wished to take a river
+journey into the next world. But for the most part, he remained a
+spectator and plagiarised from real life.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly, the great manager of the Universal Theatre enlisted Paul as an
+actor, and he assumed the double <i>r&ocirc;le</i> of an unappreciated author and a
+sighing lover. In the first capacity he had in his desk ten short
+stories, a couple of novels, three dramas and a sheaf of doubtful
+verses. These failed to appeal to editor, manager or publisher, and
+their author found himself reduced to his last five-pound note. Then the
+foolish, ardent lad must needs fall in love. Who his divinity was, what
+she was, and why she should be divinised, can be gathered from a
+conversation her worshipper held with an old school-fellow.</p>
+
+<p>It was in Oxford Street at five o'clock on a June afternoon that Paul
+met Grexon Hay. Turning the corner of the street leading to his
+Bloomsbury attic, the author was tapped on the shoulder by a resplendent
+Bond Street being. That is, the said
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
+being wore a perfectly-fitting frock-coat, a silk hat, trousers with the
+regulation fold back and front, an orchid buttonhole, grey gloves, boots
+that glittered, and carried a gold-topped cane. The fact that Paul
+wheeled without wincing showed that he was not yet in debt. Your Grub
+Street old-time author would have leaped his own length at the touch.
+But Paul, with a clean conscience, turned slowly, and gazed without
+recognition into the clean-shaven, calm, cold face that confronted his
+inquiring eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Beecot!" said the newcomer, taking rapid stock of Paul's shabby serge
+suit and worn looks. "I thought I was right."</p>
+
+<p>The voice, if not the face, awoke old memories.</p>
+
+<p>"Hay&mdash;Grexon Hay!" cried the struggling genius. "Well, I am glad to see
+you," and he shook hands with the frank grip of an honest man.</p>
+
+<p>"And I you." Hay drew his friend up the side street and out of the human
+tide which deluged the pavement. "But you seem&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a long story," interrupted Paul flushing. "Come to my castle and
+I'll tell you all about it, old boy. You'll stay to supper, won't you?
+See here"&mdash;Paul displayed a parcel&mdash;"a pound of sausages. You loved 'em
+at school, and I'm a superfine cook."</p>
+
+<p>Grexon Hay always used expression and word to hide his feelings. But
+with Paul&mdash;whom he had always considered a generous ass at Torrington
+school&mdash;a trifle of self-betrayal didn't matter much. Beecot was too
+dense, and, it may be added, too honest to turn any opportunity to
+advantage. "It's a most surprising thing," said Hay, in his calm way,
+"really a most surprising thing, that a Torrington public school boy, my
+friend, and the son of wealthy parents, should be buying sausages."</p>
+
+<p>"Come now," said Paul, with great spirit and towing Hay homeward, "I
+haven't asked you for money."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
+
+<p>"If you do you shall have it," said Hay, but the offer was not so
+generous a one as would appear. That was Hay all over. He always said
+what he did not mean, and knew well that Beecot's uneasy pride shied at
+loans however small.</p>
+
+<p>Paul, the unsophisticated, took the shadow of generosity for its
+substance, and his dark face lighted up. "You're a brick, Hay," he
+declared, "but I don't want money. No!"&mdash;this in reply to an eloquent
+glance from the well-to-do&mdash;"I have sufficient for my needs, and
+besides," with a look at the resplendent dress of the fashion-plate
+dandy, "I don't glitter in the West End."</p>
+
+<p>"Which hints that those who do, are rich," said Grexon, with an arctic
+smile. "Wrong, Beecot. I'm poor. Only paupers can afford to dress well."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case I must be a millionaire," laughed Beecot, glancing
+downward at his well-worn garb. "But mount these stairs; we have much to
+say to one another."</p>
+
+<p>"Much that is pleasant," said the courtly Grexon.</p>
+
+<p>Paul shrugged his square shoulders and stepped heavenward. "On your
+part, I hope," he sang back; "certainly not on mine. Come to Poverty
+Castle," and the fashionable visitor found his host lighting the fire in
+an apartment such as he had read about but had never seen.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite the proper garret for starving genius&mdash;small, bleak, bare,
+but scrupulously clean. The floor was partially covered with scraps of
+old carpet, faded and worn; the walls were entirely papered with
+pictures from illustrated journals. One window, revealing endless rows
+of dingy chimney-pots, was draped with shabby rep curtains of a dull
+red. In one corner, behind an Indian screen, stood a narrow camp
+bedstead, covered with a gaudy Eastern shawl, and also a large tin bath,
+with a can of water beside
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
+it. Against the wall leaned a clumsy deal bookcase filled with volumes
+well-thumbed and in old bindings. On one side of the tiny fireplace was
+a horse-hair sofa, rendered less slippery by an expensive fur rug thrown
+over its bareness; on the other was a cupboard, whence Beecot rapidly
+produced crockery, knives, forks, a cruet, napkins and other table
+accessories, all of the cheapest description. A deal table in the centre
+of the room, an antique mahogany desk, heaped high with papers, under
+the window, completed the furnishing of Poverty Castle. And it was up
+four flights of stairs like that celebrated attic in Thackeray's poem.</p>
+
+<p>"As near heaven as I am likely to get," rattled on Beecot, deftly frying
+the sausages, after placing his visitor on the sofa. "The grub will soon
+be ready. I'm a first-class cook, bless you, old chap. Housemaid too.
+Clean, eh?" He waved the fork proudly round the ill-furnished room. "I'd
+dismiss myself if it wasn't."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but," stammered Hay, much amazed, and surveying things through an
+eye-glass. "What are you doing here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Trying to get my foot on the first rung of Fame's ladder."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't quite see&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Read Balzac's life and you will. His people gave him an attic and a
+starvation allowance in the hope of disgusting him. Bar the allowance,
+my pater has done the same. Here's the attic, and here's my
+starvation"&mdash;Paul gaily popped the frizzling sausages on a chipped hot
+plate&mdash;"and here's your aspiring servant hoping to be novelist,
+dramatist, and what not&mdash;to say nothing of why not? Mustard, there you
+are. Wait a bit. I'll brew you tea or cocoa."</p>
+
+<p>"I never take those things with meals, Beecot."</p>
+
+<p>"Your kit assures me of that. Champagne's more
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
+in your line. I say, Grexon, what are you doing now?"</p>
+
+<p>"What other West-End men do," said Grexon, attacking a sausage.</p>
+
+<p>"That means nothing. Well, you never did work at Torrington, so how can
+I expect the leopard to change his saucy spots."</p>
+
+<p>Hay laughed, and, during the meal, explained his position. "On leaving
+school I was adopted by a rich uncle," he said. "When he went the way of
+all flesh he left me a thousand a year, which is enough to live on with
+strict economy. I have rooms in Alexander Street, Camden Hill, a circle
+of friends, and a good appetite, as you will perceive. With these I get
+through life very comfortably."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" said Paul, darting a keen glance at his visitor, "you have the
+strong digestion necessary to happiness. Have you the hard heart also?
+If I remember at school&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hang school!" said Grexon, flushing all over his cold face. "I
+never think of school. I was glad when I got away from it. But we were
+great friends at school, Paul."</p>
+
+<p>"Something after the style of Steerforth and David Copperfield," was
+Paul's reply as he pushed back his plate; "you were my hero, and I was
+your slave. But the other boys&mdash;" He looked again.</p>
+
+<p>"They hated me, because they did not understand me, as you did."</p>
+
+<p>"If that is so, Grexon, why did you let me slip out of your life? It is
+ten years since we parted. I was fifteen and you twenty."</p>
+
+<p>"Which now makes us twenty-five and thirty respectively," said Hay,
+dryly; "you left school before I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I had scarlet fever, and was taken home to be nursed. I never went
+back, and since then I have never met an old Torrington boy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Have you not?" asked Hay, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"No. My parents took me abroad, and I sampled a German university. I
+returned to idle about my father's place, till I grew sick of doing
+nothing, and, having ambitions, I came to try my luck in town." He
+looked round and laughed. "You see my luck."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Hay, lighting a dainty cigarette produced from a gold case,
+"my uncle, who died, sent me to Oxford and then I travelled. I am now on
+my own, as I told you, and haven't a relative in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you marry?" asked Paul, with a flush.</p>
+
+<p>Hay, wary man-about-town as he was, noted the flush, and guessed its
+cause. He could put two and two together as well as most people.</p>
+
+<p>"I might ask you the same question," said he.</p>
+
+<p>The two friends looked at one another, and each thought of the
+difference in his companion since the old school-days. Hay was
+clean-shaven, fair-haired, and calm, almost icy, in manner. His eyes
+were blue and cold. No one could tell what was passing in his mind from
+the expression of his face. As a matter of fact he usually wore a mask,
+but at the present moment, better feelings having the upper hand, the
+mask had slipped a trifle. But as a rule he kept command of expression,
+and words, and actions. An admirable example of self-control was Grexon
+Hay.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, Beecot was slight, tall and dark, with an eager
+manner and a face which revealed his thoughts. His complexion was swart;
+he had large black eyes, a sensitive mouth, and a small moustache
+smartly twisted upward. He carried his head well, and looked rather
+military in appearance, probably because many of his forebears had been
+Army men. While Hay was smartly dressed in a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
+Bond Street kit, Paul wore a well-cut, shabby blue serge. He looked
+perfectly well-bred, but his clothes were woefully threadbare.</p>
+
+<p>From these and the garret and the lean meal of sausages Hay drew his
+conclusions and put them into words.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father has cut you off," said he, calmly, "and yet you propose to
+marry."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know both things?"</p>
+
+<p>"I keep my eyes open, Paul. I see this attic and your clothes. I saw
+also the flush on your face when you asked me why I did not marry. You
+are in love?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am," said Beecot, becoming scarlet, and throwing back his head. "It
+is clever of you to guess it. Prophesy more."</p>
+
+<p>Hay smiled in a cold way. "I prophesy that if you marry on nothing you
+will be miserable. But of course," he looked sharply at his open-faced
+friend, "the lady may be rich."</p>
+
+<p>"She is the daughter of a second-hand bookseller called Norman, and I
+believe he combines selling books with pawnbroking."</p>
+
+<p>"Hum," said Hay, "he might make money out of the last occupation. Is he
+a Jew by any chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He is a miserable-looking, one-eyed Christian, with the manner of a
+frightened rabbit."</p>
+
+<p>"One-eyed and frightened," repeated Hay, musingly, but without change of
+expression; "desirable father-in-law. And the daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sylvia. She is an angel, a white lily, a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Grexon, cutting short these rhapsodies. "And what do
+you intend to marry on?"</p>
+
+<p>Beecot fished a shabby blue velvet case out of his pocket. "On my last
+five pounds and this," he said, opening the case.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
+
+<p>Hay looked at the contents of the case, and saw a rather large brooch
+made in the form of a jewelled serpent. "Opals, diamonds and gold," he
+said slowly, then looked up eagerly. "Sell it to me."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">DEBORAH JUNK, DUENNA</p>
+
+
+<p>Number forty-five Gwynne Street was a second-hand bookshop, and much of
+the stock was almost as old as the building itself. A weather-stained
+board of faded blue bore in tarnished gold lettering the name of its
+owner, and under this were two broad windows divided by a squat door,
+open on week-days from eight in the morning until eight at night. Within
+the shop was dark and had a musty odor.</p>
+
+<p>On either side of the quaint old house was a butcher's and a baker's,
+flaunting places of business, raw in their newness. Between the
+first-named establishment and the bookshop a low, narrow passage led to
+a small backyard and to a flight of slimy steps, down which clients who
+did not wish to be seen could arrive at a kind of cellar to transact
+business with Mr. Norman.</p>
+
+<p>This individual combined two distinct trades. On the ground floor he
+sold second-hand books; in the cellar he bought jewels and gave money on
+the same to needy people. In the shop, pale youths, untidy, abstracted
+old men, spectacled girls, and all varieties of the pundit caste were to
+be seen poring over ancient volumes or exchanging words with the
+proprietor. But to the cellar came fast young men, aged spendthrifts,
+women of no reputation and some who were very respectable indeed. These
+usually came at night, and in the cellar transactions would take
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
+place which involved much money exchanging hands. In the daytime Mr.
+Norman was an innocent bookseller, but after seven he retired to the
+cellar and became as genuine a pawnbroker as could be found in London.
+Touching books he was easy enough to deal with, but a Shylock as regards
+jewels and money lent. With his bookish clients he passed for a dull
+shopkeeper who knew little about literature; but in the underground
+establishment he was spoken of, by those who came to pawn, as a usurer
+of the worst. In an underhand way he did a deal of business.</p>
+
+<p>Aaron Norman&mdash;such was the name over the shop&mdash;looked like a man with a
+past&mdash;a miserable past, for in his one melancholy eye and twitching,
+nervous mouth could be read sorrow and apprehension. His face was pale,
+and he had an odd habit of glancing over his left shoulder, as though he
+expected to be tapped thereon by a police officer. Sixty years had
+rounded his shoulders and weakened his back, so that his one eye was
+almost constantly on the ground. Suffering had scored marks on his
+forehead and weary lines round his thin-lipped mouth. When he spoke he
+did so in a low, hesitating voice, and when he looked up, which was
+seldom, his eye revealed a hunted look like that of a wearied beast
+fearful lest it should be dragged from its lair.</p>
+
+<p>It was this strange-looking man that Paul Beecot encountered in the
+doorway of the Gwynne Street shop the day after his meeting with Hay.
+Many a visit had Paul paid to that shop, and not always to buy books.
+Norman knew him very well, and, recognizing him in a fleeting look as he
+passed through the doorway, smiled weakly. Behind the counter stood Bart
+Tawsey, the lean underling, who was much sharper with buyers than was
+his master, but after a disappointed glance in his direction Paul
+addressed himself to the bookseller.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
+"I wish to see you particularly," he said, with his eager air.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going out on important business," said Norman, "but if you will
+not be very long&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's about a brooch I wish to pawn."</p>
+
+<p>The old man's mouth became hard and his eyes sharper. "I can't attend to
+that now, Mr. Beecot," he said, and his voice rang out louder than
+usual. "After seven."</p>
+
+<p>"It's only six now," said Paul, looking over his shoulder at a church
+clock which could be seen clearly in the pale summer twilight. "I can't
+wait."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, as you are an old customer&mdash;of books," said Aaron, with
+emphasis, "I'll stretch a point. You can go below at a quarter to seven,
+and I'll come round through the outside passage to see you. Meantime, I
+must go about my business," and he went away with his head hanging and
+his solitary eye searching the ground as usual.</p>
+
+<p>Paul, in spite of his supposed hurry, was not ill-pleased that Aaron had
+gone out and that there was an idle hour before him. He stepped lightly
+into the shop, and, under the flaring gas&mdash;which was lighted, so dark
+was the interior of the shop in spite of the luminous gloaming&mdash;he
+encountered the smile of Barty. Paul, who was sensitive and proudly
+reticent, grew red. He knew well enough that his apparent admiration of
+Sylvia Norman had attracted the notice of Bart and of the red-armed
+wench, Deborah Junk, who was the factotum of the household. Not that he
+minded, for both these servants were devoted to Sylvia, and knowing that
+she returned the feelings of Paul said nothing about the position to
+Aaron. Beecot could not afford to make enemies of the pair, and had no
+wish to do so. They were coarse-grained and common, but loyal and kindly
+of heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Got any new books, Bart?" asked Beecot, coming
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+forward with roving eyes, for he hoped to see Sylvia glide out of the
+darkness to bless his hungry eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. We never get new books," replied Bart, smartly. "Leastways
+there's a batch of second-hand novels published last year. But bless
+you, Mr. Beecot, there ain't nothing new about them 'cept the bindings."</p>
+
+<p>"You are severe, Bart. I hope to be a novelist myself."</p>
+
+<p>"We need one, sir. For the most part them as write now ain't novelists,
+if that means telling anything as is new. But I must go upstairs, sir.
+Miss Sylvia said I was to tell her when you came."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;that is&mdash;she wants to see a photograph of my old home.
+I promised to show it to her." Paul took a parcel out of his pocket.
+"Can't I go up?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. 'Twouldn't be wise. The old man may come back, and if he knew
+as you'd been in his house," Bart jerked his head towards the ceiling,
+"he'd take a fit."</p>
+
+<p>"Why? He doesn't think I'm after the silver?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lor' bless you no, sir. It ain't that. What's valuable&mdash;silver and gold
+and jewels and such like&mdash;is down there." Bart nodded towards the floor.
+"But Mr. Norman don't like people coming into his private rooms. He's
+never let in anyone for years."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he fears to lose the fairest jewel he has."</p>
+
+<p>Bart was what the Scotch call "quick in the uptake." "He don't think so
+much of her as he ought to, sir," said he, gloomily. "But I know he
+loves her, and wants to make her a great heiress. When he goes to the
+worms Miss Sylvia will have a pretty penny. I only hope," added Bart,
+looking slyly at Paul, "that he who has her to wife won't squander what
+the old man has worked for."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot colored still more at this direct hint, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
+would have replied, but at this moment a large, red-faced, ponderous
+woman dashed into the shop from a side door. "There," said she, clapping
+her hands in a childish way, "I know'd his vice, an' I ses to Miss
+Sylvia, as is sittin' doing needlework, which she do do lovely, I ses
+'That's him,' and she ses, with a lovely color, 'Oh, Deborah, jus' see,
+fur m'eart's abeating too loud for me t'ear 'is vice.' So I ses&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here she became breathless and clapped her hands again, so as to prevent
+interruption. But Paul did interrupt her, knowing from experience that
+when once set going Deborah would go on until pulled up. "Can't I go up
+to Miss Norman?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You may murder me, and slay me, and trample on my corp," said Deborah,
+solemnly, "but go up you can't. Master would send me to walk the streets
+if I dared to let you, innocent as you are, go up them stairs."</p>
+
+<p>Paul knew long ago how prejudiced the old man was in this respect.
+During all the six months he had known Sylvia he had never been
+permitted to mount the stairs in question. It was strange that Aaron
+should be so particular on this point, but connecting it with his
+downcast eye and frightened air, Paul concluded, though without much
+reason, that the old man had something to conceal. More, that he was
+frightened of someone. However, he did not argue the point, but
+suggested a meeting-place. "Can't I see her in the cellar?" he asked.
+"Mr. Norman said I could go down to wait for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," said Deborah, plunging forward a step, like a stumbling 'bus
+horse, "don't tell me as you want to pawn."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do," replied Paul, softly, "but you needn't tell everyone."</p>
+
+<p>"It's only Bart," cried Deborah, casting a fierce
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
+look in the direction of the slim, sharp-faced young man, "and if he was
+to talk I'd take his tongue out. That I would. I'm a-training him to be
+my husband, as I don't hold with the ready-made article, and married he
+shall be, by parsing and clark if he's a good boy and don't talk of what
+don't matter to him."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't goin' to chatter," said Bart, with a wink. "Lor' bless you,
+sir, I've seen gentlemen as noble as yourself pawning things down
+there"&mdash;he nodded again towards the floor&mdash;"ah, and ladies too, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue," cried Deborah, pitching herself across the floor
+like a ship in distress. "Your a-talking now of what you ain't a right
+to be a-talkin' of, drat you. Come this way, Mr. Beecot, to the place
+where old Nick have his home, for that he is when seven strikes."</p>
+
+<p>"You shouldn't speak of your master in that way," protested Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, shouldn't I," snorted the maid, with a snort surprisingly loud.
+"And who have a better right, sir? I've been here twenty year as servant
+and nuss and friend and 'umble well-wisher to Miss Sylvia, coming a slip
+of a girl at ten, which makes me thirty, I don't deny; not that it's too
+old to marry Bart, though he's but twenty, and makes up in wickedness
+for twice that age. I know master, and when the sun's up there ain't a
+better man living, but turn on the gas and he's an old Nick. Bart,
+attend to your business and don't open them long ears of yours too wide.
+I won't have a listening husband, I can tell you. This way, sir. Mind
+the steps."</p>
+
+<p>By this time Deborah had convoyed Paul to a dark corner behind the
+counter and jerked back a trap door. Here he saw a flight of wooden
+steps which led downwards into darkness. But Miss Junk snatched up a
+lantern on the top step, and having lighted it dropped down, holding it
+above her red and touzelled
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
+head. Far below her voice was heard crying to Beecot to "Come on";
+therefore he followed as quickly as he could, and soon found himself in
+the cellar. All around was dark, but Deborah lighted a couple of flaring
+gas-jets, and then turned, with her arms akimbo, on the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Now then, sir, you and me must have a talk, confidential like," said
+she in her breathless way. "It's pawning is it? By which I knows that
+you ain't brought that overbearing pa of yours to his knees."</p>
+
+<p>Paul sat down in a clumsy mahogany chair, which stood near a plain deal
+table, and stared at the handmaiden. "I never told you about my father,"
+he said, exhibiting surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, of course not"&mdash;Miss Junk tossed her head&mdash;"me being a babe an'
+a suckling, not fit to be told anything. But you told Miss Sylvia and
+she told me, as she tells everything to her Debby, God bless her for a
+pretty flower!" She pointed a coarse, red finger at Paul. "If you were a
+gay deceiver, Mr. Beecot, I'd trample on your corp this very minute if I
+was to die at Old Bailey for the doing of it."</p>
+
+<p>Seeing Deborah was breathless again, Paul seized his chance. "There is
+no reason you shouldn't know all about me, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed, I should think not, begging your pardon, sir. But when you
+comes here six months back, I ses to Miss Sylvia, I ses, 'He's making
+eyes at you, my lily,' and she ses to me, she says, 'Oh, Debby, I love
+him, that I do.' And then I ses, ses I, 'My pretty, he looks a gent born
+and bred, but that's the wust kind, so we'll find out if he's a liar
+before you loses your dear heart to him.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm not a liar&mdash;" began Paul, only to be cut short again.</p>
+
+<p>"As well I knows," burst out Miss Junk, her arms akimbo again. "Do you
+think, sir, as I'd ha'
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
+let you come loving my pretty one and me not knowing if you was Judas or
+Jezebel? Not me, if I never drank my nightly drop of beer again. What
+you told Miss Sylvia of your frantic pa and your loving ma she told me.
+Pumping <i>you</i> may call it," shouted Deborah, emphasising again with the
+red finger, "but everything you told in your lover way she told her old
+silly Debby. I ses to Bart, if you loves me, Bart, go down to Wargrove,
+wherever it may be&mdash;if in England, which I doubt&mdash;and if
+he&mdash;meaning you&mdash;don't tell the truth, out he goes if I have
+the chucking of him myself and a police-court summings over it. So Bart
+goes to Wargrove, and he find out that you speaks true, which means that
+you're a gent, sir, if ever there was one, in spite of your frantic pa,
+so I hopes as you'll marry my flower, and make her happy&mdash;bless
+you," and Deborah spread a large pair of mottled arms over Paul's head.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all true," said he, good-naturedly; "my father and I don't get on
+well together, and I came to make a name in London. But for all you
+know, Deborah, I may be a scamp."</p>
+
+<p>"That you are not," she burst out. "Why, Bart's been follerin' you
+everywhere, and he and me, which is to be his lawful wife and master,
+knows all about you and that there place in Bloomsbury, and where you go
+and where you don't go. And let me tell you, sir," again she lifted her
+finger threateningly, "if you wasn't what you oughter be, never would
+you see my pretty one again. No, not if I had to wash the floor in your
+blue blood&mdash;for blue it is, if what Bart learned was true of them stone
+figgers in the church," and she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was silent for a few minutes, looking at the floor. He wondered
+that he had not guessed all this. Often it had seemed strange to him
+that so faithful and devoted a couple of retainers as Bart and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+Deborah Junk should favor his wooing of Sylvia and keep it from their
+master, seeing that they knew nothing about him. But from the woman's
+story&mdash;which he saw no reason to disbelieve&mdash;the two had not
+rested until they had been convinced of his respectability and of the
+truth of his story. Thus they had permitted the wooing to continue, and
+Paul privately applauded them for their tact in so making sure of him
+without committing themselves to open speech. "All the same," he said
+aloud, and following his own thoughts, "it's strange that you should
+wish her to marry me."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Junk made a queer answer. "I'm glad enough to see her marry anyone
+respectable, let alone a gent, as you truly are, with stone figgers in
+churches and a handsome face, though rather dark for my liking. Mr.
+Beecot, twenty year ago, a slip of ten, I come to nuss the baby as was
+my loving angel upstairs, and her ma had just passed away to jine them
+as lives overhead playing harps. All these years I've never heard a
+young step on them stairs, save Miss Sylvia's and Bart's, him having
+come five years ago, and a brat he was. And would you believe it, Mr.
+Beecot, I know no more of the old man than you do. He's queer, and he's
+wrong altogether, and that frightened of being alone in the dark as you
+could make him a corp with a turnip lantern."</p>
+
+<p>"What is he afraid of?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Deborah, significantly, "what indeed? It may be police and it
+may be ghosts, but, ghosts or police, he never ses what he oughter say
+if he's a respectable man, which I sadly fear he ain't."</p>
+
+<p>"He may have his reasons to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Junk tossed her head and snorted again loudly. "Oh, yes&mdash;he has his
+reasons," she admitted, "and Old Bailey ones they are, I dessay. But
+there's somethin' 'anging over his head. Don't ask
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>
+me what it is, fur never shall you know, by reason of my being ignorant.
+But whatever it is, Mr. Beecot, it's something wicked, and shall I see
+my own pretty in trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know there will be trouble?" interrupted Paul, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I've heard him pray," said Miss Junk, mysteriously&mdash;"yes, you may look,
+for there ain't no prayer in the crafty eye of him&mdash;but pray he do, and
+asks to be kept from danger&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Danger?"</p>
+
+<p>"Danger's the word, for I won't deceive you, no, not if you paid me
+better wages than the old man do give and he's as near as the paring of
+an inion. So I ses to Bart, if there's danger and trouble and Old
+Baileys about, the sooner Miss Sylvia have some dear man to give her a
+decent name and pertect her the more happy old Deborah will be. So I
+looked and looked for what you might call a fairy prince as I've heard
+tell of in pantomimes, and when you comes she loses her heart to you. So
+I ses, find out, Bart, what he is, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I see. Well, Deborah, you can depend upon my looking after
+your pretty mistress. If I were only reconciled with my father I would
+speak to Mr. Norman."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, sir&mdash;don't!" cried the woman, fiercely, and making a clutch at
+Paul's arm; "he'll turn you out, he will, not being anxious fur anyone
+to have my flower, though love her as he oughter do, he don't, no,"
+cried Deborah, "nor her ma before her, who died with a starvin' 'eart.
+But you run away with my sweetest and make her your own, though her pa
+swears thunderbolts as you may say. Take her from this place of
+wickedness and police-courts." And Deborah looked round the cellar with
+a shudder. Suddenly she started and held up her finger, nodding towards
+a narrow door at the side of the cellar.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>
+"Master's footstep," she said in a harsh whisper. "I'd know it in a
+thousand&mdash;just like a thief's, ain't it?&mdash;stealing as you
+might say. Don't tell him you've seen me."</p>
+
+<p>"But Sylvia," cried Paul, catching her dress as she passed him.</p>
+
+<p>"Her you'll see, if I die for it," said Deborah, and whirled up the
+wooden steps in a silent manner surprising in so noisy a woman. Paul
+heard the trap-door drop with a stealthy creak.</p>
+
+<p>As a key grated in the lock of the outside door he glanced round the
+place to which he had penetrated for the first time. It was of the same
+size as the shop overhead, but the walls were of stone, green with slime
+and feathery with a kind of ghastly white fungus. Overhead, from the
+wooden roof, which formed the floor of the shop, hung innumerable
+spider's webs thick with dust. The floor was of large flags cracked in
+many places, and between the chinks in moist corners sprouted sparse,
+colorless grass. In the centre was a deal table, scored with queer marks
+and splotched with ink. Over this flared two gas-jets, which whistled
+shrilly. Against the wall, which was below the street, were three green
+painted safes fast locked: but the opposite wall had in it the narrow
+door aforesaid, and a wide grated window, the bars of which were rusty,
+though strong. The atmosphere of the place was cold and musty and
+suggestive of a charnel house. Certainly a strange place in which to
+transact business, but everything about Aaron Norman was strange.</p>
+
+<p>And he looked strange himself as he stepped in at the open door. Beyond,
+Paul could see the shallow flight of damp steps leading to the yard and
+the passage which gave admission from the street. Norman locked the door
+and came forward. He was as white as a sheet, and his face was thickly
+beaded with perspiration. His mouth twitched more
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+than usual, and his hands moved nervously. Twice as he advanced towards
+Paul, who rose to receive him, did he cast the odd look over his
+shoulder. Beecot fancifully saw in him a man who had committed some
+crime and was fearful lest it should be discovered, or lest the avenger
+should suddenly appear. Deborah's confidential talk had not been without
+its effects on the young man, and Paul beheld in Aaron a being of
+mystery. How such a man came to have such a daughter as Sylvia, Paul
+could not guess.</p>
+
+<p>"Here you are, Mr. Beecot," said Aaron, rubbing his hands as though the
+cold of the cellar struck to his bones. "Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to pawn a brooch," said Beecot, slipping his hand into his
+breast pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait," said Norman, throwing up his lean hand. "Let me tell you that I
+have taken a fancy to you, and I have watched you all the many times you
+have been here. Didn't you guess?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Paul, wondering if he was about to speak of Sylvia, and
+concluding that he guessed what was in the wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, I have," said the pawnbroker, "and I think it's a pity a
+young man should pawn anything. Have you no money?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Paul reddened. "Very little," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Little as it may be, live on that and don't pawn," said Aaron. "I speak
+against my own interests, but I like you, and perhaps I can lend you a
+few shillings."</p>
+
+<p>"I take money from no one, thank you all the same," said Beecot,
+throwing back his head, "but if you can lend me something on this
+brooch," and he pulled out the case from his pocket. "A friend of mine
+would have bought it, but as it belongs to my mother I prefer to pawn it
+so that I may get it again when I am rich."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said Aaron, abruptly, and resuming
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
+his downcast looks, "I shall do what I can. Let me see it."</p>
+
+<p>He stretched out his hand and took the case. Slowly opening it under the
+gas, he inspected its contents. Suddenly he gave a cry of alarm, and the
+case fell to the floor. "The Opal Serpent!&mdash;The Opal Serpent!" he cried,
+growing purple in the face, "keep off!&mdash;keep off!" He beat the air with
+his lean hands. "Oh&mdash;the Opal!" and he fell face downward on the slimy
+floor in a fit or a faint, but certainly unconscious.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">DULCINEA OF GWYNNE STREET</p>
+
+
+<p>Near the Temple Station of the Metropolitan Railway is a small garden
+which contains a certain number of fairly-sized trees, a round
+band-stand, and a few flower-beds intersected by asphalt paths. Here
+those who are engaged in various offices round about come to enjoy <i>rus
+in urbes</i>, to listen to the gay music, and, in many cases, to eat a
+scanty mid-day meal. Old women come to sun themselves, loafers sit on
+the seats to rest, workmen smoke and children play. On a bright day the
+place is pretty, and those who frequent it feel as though they were
+enjoying a country holiday though but a stone's throw from the Thames.
+And lovers meet here also, so it was quite in keeping that Paul Beecot
+should wait by the bronze statues of the Herculaneum wrestlers for the
+coming of Sylvia.</p>
+
+<p>On the previous day he had departed hastily, after committing the old
+man to Deborah's care. At first he had lingered to see Aaron revive, but
+when the unconscious man came to his senses and opened his eyes he
+fainted again when his gaze fell on Paul. Deborah, therefore, in her
+rough, practical way, suggested that as Beecot was "upsetting him" he
+had better go. It was in a state of perplexity that Paul had gone away,
+but he was cheered on his homeward way by a hasty assurance given by
+Miss Junk that Sylvia would meet him in the gardens, "near them niggers
+without clothes," said Deborah.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
+
+<p>It was strange that the sight of the brooch should have produced such an
+effect on Aaron, and his fainting confirmed Paul's suspicions that the
+old man had not a clean conscience. But what the serpent brooch had to
+do with the matter Beecot could not conjecture. It was certainly an odd
+piece of jewellery, and not particularly pretty, but that the merest
+glimpse of it should make Norman faint was puzzling in the extreme.</p>
+
+<p>"Apparently it is associated with something disagreeable in the man's
+mind," soliloquised Paul, pacing the pavement and keeping a sharp
+look-out for Sylvia, "perhaps with death, else the effect would scarcely
+have been so powerful as to produce a fainting fit. Yet Aaron can't know
+my mother. Hum! I wonder what it means."</p>
+
+<p>While he was trying to solve the mystery a light touch on his arm made
+him wheel round, and he beheld Sylvia smiling at him. While he was
+looking along the Embankment for her coming she had slipped down Norfolk
+Street and through the gardens, to where the wrestlers clutched at empty
+air. In her low voice, which was the sweetest of all sounds to Paul, she
+explained this, looking into his dark eyes meanwhile. "But I can't stay
+long," finished Sylvia. "My father is still ill, and he wants me to
+return and nurse him."</p>
+
+<p>"Has he explained why he fainted?" asked Paul, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"No; he refuses to speak on the matter. Why did he faint, Paul?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man looked puzzled. "Upon my word I don't know," he said.
+"Just as I was showing him a brooch I wished to pawn he went off."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of a brooch?" asked the girl, also perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>Paul took the case out of his breast pocket, where it had been since the
+previous day. "My mother
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
+sent it to me," he explained; "you see she guesses that I am hard up,
+and, thanks to my father, she can't send me money. This piece of
+jewellery she has had for many years, but as it is rather old-fashioned
+she never wears it. So she sent it to me, hoping that I might get ten
+pounds or so on it. A friend of mine wished to buy it, but I was anxious
+to get it back again, so that I might return it to my mother. Therefore
+I thought your father might lend me money on it."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia examined the brooch with great attention. It was evidently of
+Indian workmanship, delicately chased, and thickly set with jewels. The
+serpent, which was apparently wriggling across the stout gold pin of the
+brooch, had its broad back studded with opals, large in the centre of
+the body and small at head and tail. These were set round with tiny
+diamonds, and the head was of chased gold with a ruby tongue. Sylvia
+admired the workmanship and the jewels, and turned the brooch over. On
+the flat smooth gold underneath she found the initial "R" scratched with
+a pin. This she showed to Paul. "I expect your mother made this mark to
+identify the brooch," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother's name is Anne," replied Paul, looking more puzzled than
+ever, "Anne Beecot. Why should she mark this with an initial which has
+nothing to do with her name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it is a present," suggested Sylvia.</p>
+
+<p>Paul snapped the case to, and replaced it in his pocket. "Perhaps it
+is," he said. "However, when I next write to my mother I'll ask her
+where she got the brooch. She has had it for many years," he added
+musingly, "for I remember playing with it when a small boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tell your mother that my father fainted."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Does it matter?"</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia folded her slender hands and looked straight
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+in front of her. For some time they had been seated on a bench in a
+retired part of the gardens, and the laughter of playing children, the
+music of the band playing the merriest airs from the last musical
+comedy, came faintly to their ears. "I think it does matter," said the
+girl, seriously; "for some reason my father wants to keep himself as
+quiet as possible. He talks of going away."</p>
+
+<p>"Going away. Oh, Sylvia, and you never told me."</p>
+
+<p>"He only spoke of going away when I came to see how he was this
+morning," she replied. "I wonder if his fainting has anything to do with
+this determination. He never talked of going away before."</p>
+
+<p>Paul wondered also. It seemed strange that after so unusual an event the
+old man should turn restless and wish to leave a place where he had
+lived for over twenty years. "I'll come and have an explanation," said
+Paul, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"I think that will be best, dear. Father said that he would like to see
+you again, and told Bart to bring you in if he saw you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll call to-day&mdash;this afternoon, and perhaps your father will explain.
+And now, Sylvia, that is enough about other people and other things. Let
+us talk of ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia turned her face with a fond smile. She was a delicate and dainty
+little lady, with large grey eyes and soft brown hair. Her complexion
+was transparent, and she had little color in her cheeks. With her oval
+face, her thin nose and charming mouth she looked very pretty and sweet.
+But it was her expression that Paul loved. That was a trifle sad, but
+when she smiled her looks changed as an overcast sky changes when the
+sun bursts through the clouds. Her figure was perfect, her hands and
+feet showed marks of breeding, and although her
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
+grey dress was as demure as any worn by a Quakeress, she looked bright
+and merry in the sunshine of her lover's presence. Everything about
+Sylvia was dainty and neat and exquisitely clean: but she was hopelessly
+out of the fashion. It was this odd independence in her dress which
+constituted another charm in Paul's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The place was too public to indulge in love-making, and it was very
+tantalising to sit near this vision of beauty without gaining the
+delight of a kiss. Paul feasted his eyes, and held Sylvia's grey-gloved
+hand under cover of her dress. Further he could not go.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you put up your sunshade," he suggested artfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Paul!" That was all Sylvia said, but it suggested a whole volume of
+rebuke. Brought up in seclusion, like the princess in an enchanted
+castle, the girl was exceedingly shy. Paul's ardent looks and eager
+wooing startled her at times, and he thought disconsolately that his
+chivalrous love-making was coarse and common when he gazed on the
+delicate, dainty, shrinking maid he adored.</p>
+
+<p>"You should not have stepped out of your missal, Sylvia," he said sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever do you mean, dearest?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that you are a saint&mdash;an angel&mdash;a thing to be adored and
+worshipped. You are exactly like one of those lovely creations one sees
+in mass-books of the Middle Ages. I fear, Sylvia," Paul sighed, "that
+you are too dainty and holy for this work-a-day world."</p>
+
+<p>"What nonsense, Paul! I'm a poor girl without position or friends,
+living in a poor street. You are the first person who ever thought me
+pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not pretty," said the ardent Beecot, "you are divine&mdash;you are
+Beatrice&mdash;you are Elizabeth of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
+Thuringia&mdash;you are everything that is lovely and adorable."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are a silly boy," replied Sylvia, blushing, but loving this
+poetic talk all the same. "Do you want to put me in a glass case when we
+marry? If you do, I sha'n't become Mrs. Beecot. I want to see the world
+and to enjoy myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Then other men will admire you and I shall grow jealous."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you be jealous&mdash;Paul?"</p>
+
+<p>"Horribly! You don't know half my bad qualities. I am poor and needy,
+and ambitious and jealous, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There&mdash;there. I won't hear you run yourself down. You are the best boy
+in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor world, if I am that," he laughed, and squeezed the little hand.
+"Oh, my love, do you really think of me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Always! Always! You know I do. Why, ever since I saw you enter the shop
+six months ago I have always loved you. I told Debby, and Debby said
+that I could."</p>
+
+<p>"Supposing Debby had said that you couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she would never have said that. Why, Paul, she saw you."</p>
+
+<p>The young man laughed and colored. "Do I carry my character in my face?"
+he asked. "Sylvia, don't think too well of me."</p>
+
+<p>"That is impossible," she declared. "You are my fairy prince."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I certainly have found an enchanted princess sleeping in a
+jealously-guarded castle. What would your father say did he know?"</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia looked startled. "I am afraid of my father," she replied,
+indirectly. "Yes&mdash;he is so strange. Sometimes he seems to love me, and
+at other times to hate me. We have nothing in common. I love books and
+art, and gaiety and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
+dresses. But father only cares for jewels. He has a lot down in the
+cellar. I have never seen them, you know," added Sylvia, looking at her
+lover, "nor have Deborah or Bart. But they are there. Bart and Deborah
+say so."</p>
+
+<p>"Has your father ever said so?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He won't speak of his business in the cellar. When the shop is
+closed at seven he sends Bart away home and locks Deborah and I in the
+house. That is," she explained anxiously, lest Paul should think her
+father a tyrant, "he locks the door which leads to the shop. We can walk
+over all the house. But there we stop till next morning, when father
+unlocks the door at seven and Bart takes down the shutters. We have
+lived like that for years. On Sunday evenings, however, father does not
+go to the cellar, but takes me to church. He has supper with me
+upstairs, and then locks the door at ten."</p>
+
+<p>"But he sleeps upstairs?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He sleeps in the cellar."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible. There is no accommodation for sleeping there."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia explained. "There is another cellar&mdash;a smaller one&mdash;off the large
+place he has the safes in. The door is in a dark corner almost under the
+street line. This smaller cellar is fitted up as a bedroom, and my
+father has slept there all his life. I suppose he is afraid of his
+jewels being stolen. I don't think it is good for his health," added the
+girl, wisely, "for often in the morning he looks ill and his hands
+shake."</p>
+
+<p>"Sylvia, does your father drink alcohol?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, Paul! He is a teetotaller, and is very angry at those who drink
+to excess. Why, once Bart came to the shop a little drunk, and father
+would have discharged him but for Deborah."</p>
+
+<p>Paul said nothing, but thought the more. Often
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
+it had struck him that Norman was a drunkard, though his face showed no
+signs of indulgence, for it always preserved its paleness. But the man's
+hands shook, and his skin often was drawn and tight, with that shiny
+look suggestive of indulgence. "He either drinks or smokes opium,"
+thought Paul on hearing Sylvia's denial. But he said nothing to her of
+this.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go home now," she said, rising.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, not yet," he implored.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, I'll stay for a few minutes longer, because I have
+something to say," she remarked, and sat down again. "Paul, do you think
+it is quite honorable for you and I to be engaged without the consent of
+my father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," hesitated Beecot, "I don't think it is as it should be. Were I
+well off I should not fear to tell your father everything; but as I am a
+pauper he would forbid my seeing you did he learn that I had raised my
+eyes to you. But if you like I'll speak, though it may mean our parting
+for ever."</p>
+
+<p>"Paul," she laid a firm, small hand on his arm, "not all the fathers in
+the world will keep me from you. Often I have intended to tell all, but
+my father is so strange. Sometimes he goes whole days without speaking
+to me, and at times he speaks harshly, though I do nothing to deserve
+rebuke. I am afraid of my father," said the girl, with a shiver. "I said
+so before, and I say so again. He is a strange man, and I don't
+understand him at all. I wish I could marry you and go away altogether."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let us marry if you like, though we will be poor."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Sylvia, sorrowfully; "after all, strange and harsh though my
+father is, he is still my father, and at times he is kind. I must stay
+with him to the end."</p>
+
+<p>"What end?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+
+<p>Sylvia shook her head still more sorrowfully. "Who knows? Paul, my
+father is afraid of dying suddenly."</p>
+
+<p>"By violence?" asked Beecot, thinking of Deborah's talk.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say. But every day after six he goes to church and prays all
+alone. Deborah told me, as often she has seen him leave the church. Then
+he is afraid of every stranger who enters the shop. I don't understand
+it," cried the girl, passionately. "I don't like it. I wish you would
+marry me and take me away, Paul; but, oh, how selfish I am!"</p>
+
+<p>"My own, I wish I could. But the money&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind the money. I must get away from that house. If it was
+not for Deborah I would be still more afraid. I often think my father is
+mad. But there," Sylvia rose and shook out her skirts, "I have no right
+to talk so, and only do so to you, that you may know what I feel. I'll
+speak to my father myself and say we are engaged. If he forbids our
+marriage I shall run away with you, Paul," said poor Sylvia, the tears
+in her eyes. "I am a bad girl to talk in this way. After all, he is my
+father."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot had an ardent desire to take her in his arms and kiss away those
+tears, but the publicity of the meeting-place denied him the power to
+console her in that efficacious fashion. All he could do was to assure
+her of his love, and then they walked out of the gardens towards the
+Strand. "I'll speak to your father myself," said Paul; "we must end this
+necessary silence. After all, I am a gentleman, and I see no reason why
+your father should object."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you are everything that is good and true," said Sylvia, drying
+her eyes. "If you were not Debby would not have let me become engaged to
+you," she finished childishly.</p>
+
+<p>"Debby made inquiries about me," said Paul, laughing, to cheer her.
+"Yes! she sent Bart to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
+Wargrove and found out all about me and my family and my respected
+father. She wished to be certain that I was a proper lover for her
+darling."</p>
+
+<p>"I am your darling now," whispered Sylvia, squeezing his arm, "and you
+are the most charming lover in the world."</p>
+
+<p>Paul was so enchanted with this speech that he would have defied public
+opinion by embracing her there and then, but Sylvia walked away rapidly
+down Gwynne Street and shook her head with a pursed-up mouth when Paul
+took a few steps after her. Recognizing that it would be wise not to
+follow her to the shop lest the suspicious old man should be looking
+out, Beecot went on his homeward way.</p>
+
+<p>When he drew near his Bloomsbury garret he met Grexon Hay, who was
+sauntering along swinging his cane. "I was just looking for you," he
+said, greeting Paul in his usual self-contained manner; "it worries me
+to think you are so hard-up, though I'm not a fellow given to sentiment
+as a rule. Let me lend you a fiver."</p>
+
+<p>Paul shook his head. "Thank you all the same."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, sell me the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot suddenly looked squarely at Hay, who met his gaze calmly. "Do you
+know anything of that brooch?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean? It is a brooch of Indian workmanship. That is all I
+know. I want to give a lady a present, and if you will sell it to me
+I'll take it, to help you, thus killing two birds at one shot."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to sell it," said Paul, looking round. His eyes fell on a
+respectable man across the road, who appeared to be a workman, as he had
+a bag of tools on his shoulder. He was looking into a shop window, but
+also&mdash;as Paul suddenly thought&mdash;seemed to be observing him and Hay.
+However, the incident was not worth noticing, so he continued
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
+his speech to Grexon. "I tried to pawn it with Aaron Norman," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what did you get on it?" asked Hay, with a yawn.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. The old man fainted when I showed him the brooch. That is why
+I asked you if you know anything strange about the article."</p>
+
+<p>Hay shook his head, but looked curiously at Beecot. "Do you know
+anything yourself?" he asked; "you seem to have something on your mind
+about that brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"There is something queer about it," said Paul. "Why should Aaron Norman
+faint when he saw it?"</p>
+
+<p>Hay yawned again. "You had better ask your one-eyed friend&mdash;I think you
+said he was one-eyed."</p>
+
+<p>"He is, and a frightened sort of man. But there's nothing about that
+opal serpent to make him faint."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he did so because it is in the shape of a serpent," suggested
+Grexon; "a constitutional failing, perhaps. Some people hate cats and
+other fluttering birds. Your one-eyed friend may have a loathing of
+snakes and can't bear to see the representation of one."</p>
+
+<p>"It might be that," said Beecot, after a pause. "Aaron is a strange sort
+of chap. A man with a past, I should say."</p>
+
+<p>"You make me curious," said Grexon, laughing in a bored manner. "I think
+I'll go to the shop myself and have a look at him."</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me when I next go," said Paul. "I had intended to call this
+afternoon; but I won't, until I hear from my mother."</p>
+
+<p>"What about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to learn how she came into possession of the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh, nonsense," said Hay, contemptuously, "you think too much about
+the thing. Who cares if a pawnbroker faints? Why I wish to go to the
+shop,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
+is, because I am anxious to see your lady-love. Well, when you do want
+me to go, send for me; you have my address. 'Day, old man," and the
+gorgeous being sauntered away, with apparently not a care in the world
+to render him anxious.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was anxious, however. The more he thought of the episode of the
+brooch the stranger it seemed, and Sylvia's talk of her father's queer
+habits did not make Paul wonder the less. However, he resolved to write
+to his mother, and was just mounting his stairs to do so when he heard a
+"Beg pardon, sir," and beheld the working man, bag of tools, pipe and
+all.</p>
+
+<p>"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, civilly, "but that gentleman you was
+a-talking to. Know his name, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil's that to you?" asked Paul, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, sir, only he owes me a little bill."</p>
+
+<p>"Go and ask him for it then."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know his address, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, be hanged!" Paul went on, when the man spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"He's what I call a man on the market, sir. Have a care," and he
+departed quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Paul stared. What did the working man mean, and was he a working man?</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">THE UNFORESEEN</p>
+
+
+<p>Paul did not go near the Gwynne Street shop for the next few days, much
+as he wanted to do so. Being deeply in love he could hardly bear to be
+away from Sylvia even for a few hours: but in spite of this he remained
+away for two reasons. The first of these was that he awaited a reply to
+his letter written to Mrs. Beecot, as he wished to be able to tell Aaron
+Norman where the brooch had been obtained. He thought by doing this to
+ingratiate himself with the old man, and perhaps, if thus confidential,
+might learn, for the satisfaction of his curiosity, why the sight of the
+brooch had produced such an effect on the pawnbroker.</p>
+
+<p>The other reason was that, not having been able to sell the brooch, or
+rather pawn it since he did not wish to lose it altogether, funds were
+running low, and now he had but a few shillings left. A call at the
+office of a penny weekly had resulted in the return of three stories as
+being too long and not the sort required. But the editor, in a hasty
+interview, admitted that he liked Paul's work and would give him three
+pounds for a tale written on certain lines likely to be popular with the
+public. Paul did not care to set forth another person's ideas,
+especially as these were old and very sensational; but as he required
+money he set to work and labored to produce what would bring him in the
+cash.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
+He made several attempts before he reached the editor's level, which was
+low rather than high, and succeeded in getting the tale accepted. With
+three golden pounds in his pocket and exultation in his heart&mdash;for
+every success seemed to bring him nearer to Sylvia&mdash;Paul returned
+to his aerial castle and found waiting for him the expected letter.</p>
+
+<p>It was written in a low-spirited sort of way, characteristic of Mrs.
+Beecot, but with a true motherly heart. After two pages of lamentation
+over his absence, and a description of how the head of the household
+managed to bear up against the affliction of his son's absence, Mrs.
+Beecot proceeded to explain about the brooch.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask me about the opal brooch, my dear boy?" wrote Mrs.
+Beecot in her scratchy handwriting. "All I know is that your father
+bought it out of a pawnbroker's shop in Stowley, which is some town in
+the Midlands. Your father was travelling there and saw the brooch by
+chance. As I always thought opals unlucky he was anxious to make me see
+the folly of such a superstition, so he bought the brooch and took it
+away with him. Afterwards, I believe, he received a letter from the
+pawnbroker, saying that his assistant had sold the brooch by mistake,
+that the time for redeeming it had not run out when your father bought
+it. The pawnbroker asked that the brooch might be returned, and wanted
+to pay back the money. But you know what your father is. He refused at
+once to give back the brooch, and insisted on my wearing it. I had a bad
+fall while wearing it, and then was thrown out of that high dog-cart
+your father would insist on driving. I am sure the brooch or the stones
+is unlucky, and, as after a time your father forgot all about it, I let
+it lie in my jewel-case. For years I had not worn it, and as I think it
+is unlucky, and as
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+you need money, my darling boy, I hope you will sell it. There is no
+need to pawn it as you say. I never want to see the brooch again. But
+regarding your health, etc., etc."</p>
+
+<p>So Mrs. Beecot wrote in her verbose style, and with some errors of
+grammar. Paul saw in her simple tale fresh evidence of his father's
+tyranny, since he made his wife wear gems she detested and was
+superstitiously set against possessing them. The dog-cart episode Paul
+remembered very well. Mr. Beecot, in his amiable way, had no patience
+with his wife's nerves, and never lost an opportunity of placing her in
+unpleasant positions, whereby she might be, what he called, hardened.
+Paul sighed to think of his mother's position as he folded up the
+letter. She had a bad time with the truculent husband she had married.
+"And I can't believe she became his wife of her own free will," thought
+Paul; "probably the governor bullied her into it in his own sweet way."</p>
+
+<p>However, there was nothing in the letter to explain Norman's faint. It
+was certainly strange that the pawnbroker, from whom the brooch had been
+originally purchased, should have demanded it back; and the excuse given
+seems rather a weak one. However, Paul did not waste time in thinking
+over this, but resolved to tell Aaron what his mother had said.</p>
+
+<p>He had received two letters from Sylvia, mentioning, amongst other
+things, that her father, now quite well, was asking after Paul, and
+urging him to come and see him. "My father appears to have a fancy for
+you," wrote Sylvia, "so if you are very nice&mdash;as nice as you can
+be&mdash;perhaps he won't be very angry if you tell him we are engaged."
+There was much more to the same effect, which Paul thought good advice,
+and he intended to adopt the same. It was necessary that he should tell
+Aaron of his love
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
+if things were to be conducted in a straightforward and honorable
+manner. And Paul had no desire to conduct them otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>Having made up his mind to see Aaron again, Paul bethought himself of
+Grexon Hay. That gentleman had never appeared again at the Bloomsbury
+garret, and had never even written. But Paul was anxious that Hay&mdash;whom
+he regarded as a clever man-of-the-world&mdash;should see the old man, and,
+as our trans-Atlantic cousins say, "size him up." Norman's manner and
+queer life puzzled Paul not a little, and not being very worldly himself
+he was anxious to have the advice of his old school friend, who seemed
+desirous of doing him a good turn, witness his desire to buy the brooch
+so that Paul might be supplied with money. So Beecot wrote to Grexon Hay
+at his Camden Hill chamber and told him he intended to go to Gwynne
+Street on a certain day at a certain time. To this Grexon responded by
+saying that he was at Paul's service and would come especially as he
+wanted to see Dulcinea of Gwynne Street.</p>
+
+<p>Paul laughed at the phrase. "I suppose Grexon thinks I am very
+Quixotic," he thought, "coming to London to tilt with the windmills of
+the Press. But Don Quixote was wise in spite of his apparent madness,
+and Grexon will recognize my wisdom when he sees my Dulcinea, bless her!
+Humph! I wonder if Hay could pacify my father and make him look more
+kindly on my ambitions. Grexon is a clever fellow, a thoroughly good
+chap, so&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here Paul paused to think. The incident of the working man and the
+warning he had given about Hay recurred to his mind. Also the phrase
+"Man on the Market" stuck in his memory. Why should Grexon Hay be called
+so, and what did the phrase mean? Paul had never heard it before.
+Moreover, from certain indications Beecot did not think that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
+the individual with the bag of tools was a working man. He rather
+appeared to be a person got up to play the part. The fellow watching
+them both and accosting Paul alone certainly seemed a doubtful
+character. Beecot regretted that he had been so short with the man, else
+he might have learned why he had acted in this way. The story of the
+little bill was absurd, for if Grexon owed the man money the man himself
+would certainly have known the name and address of his creditor.
+Altogether, the incident puzzled Paul almost as much as that of Aaron's
+fainting, and he resolved to question Grexon. But it never crossed his
+mind that Hay was anything else but what he appeared to be&mdash;a
+man-about-town with a sufficient income to live upon comfortably. Had
+Paul doubted he would never have asked Grexon to go with him to Gwynne
+Street. However, he had done so, and the appointment was made, so there
+was no more to be said.</p>
+
+<p>The man-about-town duly made his appearance to the very minute. "I
+always keep appointments," he explained when Paul congratulated him on
+his punctuality; "there's nothing annoys me so much as to be kept
+waiting, so I invariably practise what I preach. Well, Paul, and how is
+Dulcinea of Gwynne Street?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is very well," replied Paul, who was still a young enough lover to
+blush, "but I have not seen her since we last met. I waited for a letter
+from my mother about the brooch, so that I might explain to Aaron how
+she got it. The old man has been asking after me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, confound the brooch!" said Grexon in his cool manner. "I don't want
+to hear about it. Let us talk of Dulcinea."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather let us talk of yourself," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Not an interesting subject," replied Hay, rising as
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>
+Paul opened his garret door for departure, "you know all about me."</p>
+
+<p>"No! I don't know why you are called a man-on-the-market."</p>
+
+<p>Hay flushed and turned sharply. "What do you mean?" he asked in a
+particularly quiet tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what I <i>do</i> mean," said Paul. "Do you remember that
+working man with the bag of tools who was across the road when we last
+conversed?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Hay, staring, "I never notice creatures of that class. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he asked me who you were and where you lived. It seems you owe
+him some money."</p>
+
+<p>"That is very probable," said Hay, equably. "I owe most people money,
+and if this man has a debt against me he would certainly know all about
+me as to address and name."</p>
+
+<p>"So I thought," replied Paul, "but the queer thing is that he told me to
+take care, and called you a man-on-the-market. What does it mean? I
+never heard the phrase before."</p>
+
+<p>"I have," said Hay, proceeding calmly down the somewhat steep stairs; "a
+man-on-the-market means one who wants to marry and is eligible for any
+heiress who comes along with a sufficient rent-roll. But why should a
+fellow like that talk the shibboleth of Society?"</p>
+
+<p>Paul shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say. Perhaps the man guessed I
+intended to take you to see Sylvia, and warned me against you, as it
+seems from his phrase that you wish to marry."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Then your Dulcinea is an heiress?" said Hay, fixing his eye-glass
+carefully; "if so, you needn't fear me. I am almost engaged and won't be
+on the market any longer. What confounded cheek this fellow addressing
+you in that way and talking of me as he did. I suppose," he added with
+a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
+cold laugh, "it is not necessary for me to defend myself."</p>
+
+<p>"What rubbish," replied Beecot, good-naturedly. "All the same, it is
+strange the man should have spoken to me as he did. I told him to go to
+the devil."</p>
+
+<p>"And go to the devil he assuredly will if I meet him," was the dry
+reply. "I'll break his head for not minding his own business. I think I
+can explain, and will do so as soon as you take that telegram the lad is
+holding out for you."</p>
+
+<p>Grexon was quicker-sighted than Paul, for the moment they arrived at the
+bottom of the stairs and were about to emerge into the street he saw the
+messenger. "Do you know if any gent of that name lives here, guvnor?"
+asked the boy, holding out the buff-colored envelope.</p>
+
+<p>Beecot, to his surprise, saw his own name. "Who can be wiring to me?" he
+said, taking the telegram. "Wait, boy, there may be an answer," and he
+skimmed through the lines. "Don't sell the brooch, but send it back,"
+read Paul, puzzled, "your father angry.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Mother</span>." He paused, and looked
+at the boy. "Got a form?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The lad produced one and a stumpy pencil. With these materials Beecot
+wrote a reply saying the brooch would be returned on the morrow. When
+the boy went away with the answer Paul felt in his breast pocket and
+took out the old blue case. "I've a good mind to send it now," he said
+aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" asked Hay, who was yawning at the door. "No bad news I
+hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's about that brooch again."</p>
+
+<p>Hay laughed. "Upon my word it seems to you what the Monster was to
+Frankenstein," said he. "Send it back&mdash;to Mrs. Beecot, I presume&mdash;and
+have done with it." He cast a glance at the case. "I see you have it
+with you," he ended, lightly.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Paul, and replacing the case in his pocket went down the
+street with his friend. Then he determined to ask his opinion, and
+related the gist of Mrs. Beecot's letter. "And now the mater wires to
+have it back," he said. "I expect my father has found out that she has
+sent it to me, and is furious."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, send it back and have done with it," said Hay, impatiently; "you
+are in danger of becoming a bore with that brooch, Beecot. I'll lend you
+money if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks, I have three pounds honestly earned. However, we'll speak
+no more of the brooch. I'll send it back this very day. Tell me," he
+linked his arm within that of his friend, "tell me of that man."</p>
+
+<p>"That man&mdash;of the working creature," said Hay, absently. "Pooh, the man
+was no more a working man than I am."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I thought myself he was a bit of a fraud."</p>
+
+<p>"Detectives never do make up well," said Grexon, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Paul stopped as they turned into Oxford Street. "What? Was the man a
+detective?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so, from your description of his conversation. The fact is I'm
+in love with a lady who is married. We have behaved quite well, and no
+one can say a word against us. But her husband is a beast and wants a
+divorce. I have suspected for some time that he is having me watched.
+Thanks to you, Paul, I am now sure. So perhaps you will understand why
+the man warned you against me and talked of my being a
+man-on-the-market."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Paul, hesitating; "but don't get into trouble, Hay."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm all right. And I don't intend to do anything dishonorable, if
+that is what you mean. It's
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
+the husband's fault, not mine. By the way, can you describe the fellow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He had red hair and a red beard&mdash;rather a ruddy face, and walked
+with a limp."</p>
+
+<p>"All put on," said Hay, contemptuously; "probably the limp was affected,
+the beard false, the hair a wig, and the face rouged&mdash;very clumsy
+indeed. I daresay he'll appear pale and gentlemanly the next time he
+watches me. I know the tricks of these fellows."</p>
+
+<p>The two friends talked for some time about this episode, and then
+branched off into other subjects. Hay described the married lady he
+adored, and Paul rebuked him for entertaining such a passion. "It's not
+right, Hay," said he, positively; "you can't respect a woman who runs
+away from her husband."</p>
+
+<p>"She hasn't run away yet, Sir Galahad," laughed Grexon. "By Jove, you
+are an innocent!"</p>
+
+<p>"If that means respecting the institution of marriage and adoring women
+as angels I hope I'll remain an innocent."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, women are angels, of course," said Hay as they walked down Gwynne
+Street; "it's a stock phrase in love-making. But there are angels of two
+sorts. Dulcinea is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Here we are," interrupted Paul, quickly. Somehow it irritated him to
+hear this hardened sinner speak of Sylvia, and he began to think that
+Grexon Hay had deteriorated. Not that he was considered to be
+particularly good at Torrington school. In fact, Paul remembered that he
+had been thoroughly disliked. However, he had no time to go into the
+matter, for at this moment Aaron appeared at the door of the shop. He
+stepped out on to the pavement as Paul approached. "Come in," he said,
+"I want to see you&mdash;privately," he added, casting a frightened look at
+Hay.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case I'll leave you," said Grexon, disengaging his arm from
+Paul. "Dulcinea must wait
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
+for another occasion. Go in and do your business. I'll wait without."</p>
+
+<p>Paul thanked his friend by a look and went into the shop with the old
+man. "That brooch," said Aaron, in a timid whisper, "have you got it?
+Give it to me&mdash;quick&mdash;quick."</p>
+
+<p>There was no one in the shop as Bart had apparently gone out on an
+errand. The door leading to the stairs, down which Sylvia had so often
+descended, was closed, and no one was about to overhear their
+conversation. "I have the brooch," said Paul, "but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Give it to me&mdash;give it," panted Aaron. "I'll buy it&mdash;at a large price.
+Ask what you want."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you so eager to get it?" demanded Beecot, astonished.</p>
+
+<p>"That's my business," said Norman, in a suddenly imperious manner. "I
+want it. The stones take my fancy," he ended weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"Was that why you fainted?" asked Paul, suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"No." The man grew white and leaned against the counter, breathing
+heavily. "Where did you get the brooch?" he asked, trying to keep
+himself calm, but with a visible effort.</p>
+
+<p>"I got it from my mother, and she received it from my father&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Beecot&mdash;Beecot," said the old man, fingering his lips, much agitated.
+"I know no one of that name save yourself, and you are not a spy&mdash;a
+scoundrel&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;" He caught the eyes of Paul fixed on him in amazement,
+and suddenly changed his tone. "Excuse me, but the brooch reminds me of
+trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"You have seen it before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;that is no&mdash;don't ask me." He clutched at his throat as though he
+felt choked. "I can't talk of it. I daren't. How did your father get
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>More and more astonished, Paul explained. Aaron
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
+listened with his one eye very bright, and made uneasy motions with his
+lean hands as the young man spoke. When Beecot ended he bit his nails.
+"Yes, yes," he murmured to himself, "it would be asked for back. But it
+sha'n't go back. I want it. Sell it to me, Mr. Beecot."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry I can't," replied Paul, good-naturedly. "But my mother wired
+that it was to be returned. My father has discovered that she sent it to
+me and is not pleased."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you tell your mother you had shown it to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. There was no need."</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you!" breathed the man, pulling out a crimson handkerchief.
+"Of course there was no need," he tittered nervously. "It doesn't do to
+talk of pawning things&mdash;not respectable, eh&mdash;eh." He wiped his face and
+passed his tongue over his white lips. "Well, you won't sell it to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't. But I'll ask my mother if she will."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! Don't do that&mdash;say nothing&mdash;say nothing. I don't want the
+brooch. I never saw the brooch&mdash;what brooch&mdash;pooh&mdash;pooh, don't talk to
+me of the brooch," and so he babbled on.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Norman," said Beecot, gravely, "what is the story connected with
+the brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>Aaron flung up his hands and backed towards the counter. "No, no. Don't
+ask me. What do you mean? I know no story of a brooch&mdash;what brooch&mdash;I
+never saw one&mdash;I never&mdash;ah"&mdash;he broke off in relief as two pale-faced,
+spectacled girls entered the shop&mdash;"customers. What is it, ladies? How
+can I serve you?" And he bustled away behind the counter, giving all his
+attention to the customers, yet not without a sidelong look in the
+direction of the perplexed Paul.</p>
+
+<p>That young gentleman, finding it impossible to get further speech with
+Aaron, and suspecting from
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
+his manner that all was not right, left the shop. He determined to take
+the brooch to Wargrove himself, and to ask his mother about it. Then he
+could learn why she wanted it back&mdash;if not from her, then from his
+father. This knowledge might explain the mystery.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you sell the brooch?" asked Grexon as they walked up Gwynne Street.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I have to send it back to my mother, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on!" cried Hay, stumbling. "Orange-peel&mdash;ah&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His stumble knocked Paul into the middle of the road. A motor car was
+coming down swiftly. Before Hay could realize what had taken place Paul
+was under the wheels of the machine.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">TROUBLE</p>
+
+
+<p>"Oh, Debby," wept Sylvia, "he will die&mdash;he will die."</p>
+
+<p>"Not he, my precious pet," said the handmaiden, fondling the girl's soft
+hands within her own hard ones. "Them sort of young men have as many
+lives as tom cats. Bless you, my flower, he'll be up and ready, waiting
+at the altar, before the fashions change&mdash;and that's quick enough,"
+added Deborah, rubbing her snub nose. "For they're allays an-altering
+and a-turning and a-changing of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>The two were in the sitting-room over the bookshop. It was a
+low-ceilinged apartment, long and narrow, with windows back and front,
+as it extended the whole depth of the house. The back windows looked out
+on the dingy little yard, but these Norman had filled in with stained
+glass of a dark color, so that no one could see clearly out of them. Why
+he had done so was a mystery to Sylvia, though Deborah suspected the old
+man did not want anyone to see the many people who came to the back
+steps after seven. From the front windows could be seen the street and
+the opposite houses, and on the sills of the windows Sylvia cultivated a
+few cheap flowers, which were her delight. The room was furnished with
+all manner of odds and ends, flotsam and jetsam of innumerable sales
+attended by Aaron. There were Japanese screens, Empire sofas, mahogany
+chairs, Persian praying mats, Louis Quatorz tables,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
+Arabic tiles, Worcester china, an antique piano that might have come out
+of the ark, and many other things of epochs which had passed away.
+Sylvia herself bloomed like a fair flower amidst this wreckage of former
+times.</p>
+
+<p>But the flower drooped at this moment and seemed in danger of dying for
+lack of sunshine. That, indeed, had been taken away by the removal of
+the young lover. Bart, who had witnessed the accident, returned hastily
+to tell Sylvia, and so great had the shock of the dreadful news been,
+that she had fainted, whereupon the foolish shopman had been severely
+dealt with by Deborah. When Sylvia recovered, however, she insisted upon
+seeing Bart again, and then learned that Paul had been taken to Charing
+Cross Hospital.</p>
+
+<p>"They drawed him from under the wheels, miss, as white as a vellum
+binding as ain't bin used. That gent as he was a-walking arm-in-arm
+with, slipped and knocked Mr. Beecot spinning under the steam engine."
+So did Bart describe the latest triumph of civilisation. "He was that
+sorry, in a cold-blooded way, as I never saw. He helped to git Mr.
+Beecot into a cab and druve off. Then I come to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"And a nice way you've told it," grunted Deborah, driving him to the
+door. "Get back to the shop, you threadpaper of a man. My husband shall
+never be such a fool. The engagement's off."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Debby!" whimpered Bart, who, strange to say, was fondly attached to
+the stout servant. But that may have been habit.</p>
+
+<p>"Get along with you," she said, and banged the door in his face. "And
+don't tell master," she bawled after him, "else he'll be fainting again,
+drat him for a lily-livered duck!"</p>
+
+<p>So Aaron never knew that the man who possessed the brooch had been run
+over by a motor or was in the hospital. Sylvia and Deborah both tried
+to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
+look as cheerful as possible, and schemed how to see the lover who had
+thus been laid low. Deborah boldly announced that she was taking Sylvia
+to buy her a new dress&mdash;that is, to choose it, for the cost was to
+be paid out of the servant's wages&mdash;and went with her one afternoon
+to the hospital. They heard that Paul's arm was broken, and that he had
+been slightly hurt about the head. But there was no danger of his dying,
+and although they were not allowed to see him the two women returned
+greatly cheered. But Sylvia frequently gave way to low spirits, thinking
+that at any moment the good symptoms might give way to bad ones. Deborah
+always cheered her, and went daily to get news. Always she returned to
+say, "He's a-goin' on nicely, and has that color as he might be a
+sunset." So Sylvia was bright until her next fit of low spirits came.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, their attention was taken up by the odd behavior of Aaron.
+The old man suddenly announced that he was about to sell the shop and
+retire, and displayed a feverish haste in getting rid of his stock, even
+at a low price. Whether he sold the jewels so cheap as the books no one
+ever knew; but certainly the pundit caste did well out of the sale.
+Within the week the shop below was denuded, and there were nothing but
+bare shelves, much to the disgust of Bart, who, like Othello, found his
+occupation gone. The next day the furniture was to be sold, and when
+Deborah was comforting Sylvia at the week's end the fiat had already
+gone forth. Whither he intended to transfer his household the old man
+did not say, and this, in particular, was the cause of Sylvia's grief.
+She dreaded lest she should see her lover no more. This she said to
+Deborah.</p>
+
+<p>"See him you shall, and this very day," cried the maiden, cheerfully.
+"Why, there's that dress. I can't make up my mind whether to have
+magenter or liliac, both being suited to my complexion. Not that it's
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
+cream of the valley smother in rosebuds as yours is, my angel, but a
+dress I must have, and your pa can't deny my taking you to choose."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Debby, it seems wrong to deceive father in this way."</p>
+
+<p>"It do," admitted Debby, "and it is. We'll speak this very night&mdash;you
+and me in duets, as you might say, my pretty. He sha'n't say as we've
+gone to hide behind a hedge."</p>
+
+<p>"But we have, Debby, for six months," said Sylvia.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I'm a hardened and bold creature," said Deborah, fiercely, "so
+don't say it's you as held your tongue, for that you didn't, my
+honeycomb. Many and many a time have you said to me, ses you, 'Oh, do
+tell my par,' and many a time have I said to you, ses I, 'No, my
+precious, not for Joseph,' whoever he may be, drat him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Debby, you're taking all the blame on yourself!"</p>
+
+<p>"And who have the broader shoulders, you or me, my flower?" asked Debby,
+fondly. "I'm as wicked as Bart, and that's saying much, for the way he
+bolts his food is dreadful to think of. Never will I have a corkidile
+for a husband. But here," cried Deborah, beginning to bustle, "it's the
+dress I'm thinking of. Magenter or lilacs in full boom. What do you
+think, my honey-pot?"</p>
+
+<p>So the end of Deborah's shameless diplomacy was, that the two went, not
+to the inferior draper's where Debby bought her extraordinary
+garments&mdash;though they went there later in a Jesuitical manner&mdash;but to
+the hospital, where to her joy Sylvia was allowed to see Paul. He looked
+thin and pale, but was quite himself and very cheerful. "My darling," he
+said, kissing Sylvia's hand, while Debby sat bolt upright near the bed,
+with a large handbag, and played propriety by glaring. "Now I shall get
+well quickly. The sight of you is better than all medicine."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I should think so," sniffed Debby, graciously. "Where's your orchards,
+with sich a color."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean orchids, Debby," laughed Sylvia, who blushed a rosy red.</p>
+
+<p>"It's them things with lady slippers a size too large for your foot I'm
+a-thinking of, pet, and small it is enough for glarse boots as the fairy
+story do tell. But I'm a-taking up the precious time of billing and
+cooing, so I'll shut my mouth and my ears while you let loose your
+affections, my sweet ones, if you'll excuse the liberty, sir, me being
+as fond of my lovey there as you is your own self."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't admit that," said Paul, kissing Sylvia's hand again and
+holding it while he talked. "Darling, how good of you to come and see
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"It may be for the last time, Paul," said Sylvia, trying to keep back
+her tears, "but you'll give me your address, and I'll write."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Sylvia, what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"My father has sold the books and is selling the house. We are going
+away. Where to I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Tumbucktook would suit him," snapped Debby, suddenly; "he's trying to
+get into some rabbit-hole. Why, I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"I do," said Paul, lying back thoughtfully. He guessed that Aaron was
+moving because of the brooch, though why he should do so was a mystery.
+"Sylvia," he asked, "did your father see my accident?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Paul. He was busy in the shop. Bart saw it, but Debby said he
+wasn't to tell father."</p>
+
+<p>"Because of the fainting," explained Debby; "the man ain't strong,
+though Sampson he may think himself&mdash;ah, and Goliath, too, for all I
+care. But why ask, Mr. Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>Paul did not reply to her, but asked Sylvia another
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
+question. "Do you remember that opal brooch I showed you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The serpent. Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's lost."</p>
+
+<p>"Lost, Paul?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man nodded mournfully. "I'm very vexed about it," he said in a
+low tone; "my mother wanted it back. I was going to send it that very
+day, but when I met with the accident it got lost somehow. It wasn't in
+my pocket when my clothes were examined, though I asked for it as soon
+as I became conscious. My friend also couldn't tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"Him as caused the smashes," said Deborah, with several sniffs. "A nice
+pretty friend, I do say, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't his fault, Deborah. Mr. Hay stumbled on a piece of orange
+peel and jostled against me. I was taken by surprise, and fell into the
+middle of the road just as the motor came along. Mr. Hay was more than
+sorry and has come to see me every day with books and fruit and all
+manner of things."</p>
+
+<p>"The least he could do," snapped the servant, "knocking folks into
+orspitals with his fine gent airs. I sawr him out of the winder while
+you was in the shop, and there he spoke law-de-daw to a brat of a boy as
+ought to be in gaol, seeing he smoked a cigar stump an' him but a
+ten-year-old guttersnipe. Ses I, oh, a painted maypole you is, I ses,
+with a face as hard as bath bricks. A bad un you are, ses I."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Deborah, you are wrong. Mr. Hay is my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Never shall he be my pretty's friend," declared Debby, obstinately,
+"for if all the wickedness in him 'ud come out in his face, pimples
+would be as thick as smuts in a London fog. No, Mr. Beecot, call him not
+what you do call him, meaning friend, for Judas and Julius Cezar ain't
+in it with his Belzebubness."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot saw it was vain to stop this chatterer, so he turned to talk in
+whispers to Sylvia, while Debby
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
+murmured on like a brook, only she spoke loud enough at times to drown
+the whispering of the lovers.</p>
+
+<p>"Sylvia," said Paul, softly, "I want you to send your father to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Paul. Why do you wish to see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he must be told of our love. I don't think he will be so hard
+as you think, and I am ashamed of not having told him before. I like to
+act honorably, and I fear, Sylvia darling, we have not been quite fair
+to your father."</p>
+
+<p>"I think so, too, Paul, and I intended to speak when we went home. But
+give me your address, so that if we go away unexpectedly I'll be able to
+write to you."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot gave her his Bloomsbury address, and also that of his old home at
+Wargrove in Essex. "Write care of my mother," he said, "and then my
+father won't get the letter."</p>
+
+<p>"Would he be angry if he knew?" asked the girl, timidly.</p>
+
+<p>Paul laughed to himself at the thought of the turkey-cock's rage. "I
+think he would, dearest," said he, "but that does not matter. Be true to
+me and I'll be true to you."</p>
+
+<p>Here the nurse came to turn the visitors away on the plea that Paul had
+talked quite enough. Debby flared up, but became meek when Sylvia lifted
+a reproving finger. Then Paul asked Debby to seek his Bloomsbury
+lodgings and bring to him any letters that might be waiting for him. "I
+expect to hear from my mother, and must write and tell her of my
+accident," said he. "I don't want to trouble Mr. Hay, but you, Debby&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Bless you, Mr. Beecot, it ain't no trouble," said the servant,
+cheerfully, "and better me nor that 'aughty peacock, as ain't to be
+trusted, say what you will, seeing criminals is a-looking out of his
+eyes, hide
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>
+one though he may with a piece of glarse, and I ses&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You must go now, please," interposed the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, ma'am, but my own mistress, as is a lady, do I obey
+only."</p>
+
+<p>"Debby, Debby," murmured Sylvia, and after kissing Paul, a farewell
+which Debby strove to hide from the nurse by getting in front of her and
+blocking the view, the two departed. The nurse laughed as she arranged
+Paul's pillows.</p>
+
+<p>"What a strange woman, Mr. Beecot."</p>
+
+<p>"Very," assented Paul, "quite a character, and as true as the needle of
+the compass."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Debby, ignorant of this flattering description, conducted
+Sylvia to the draper's shop, and finally fixed on a hideous magenta
+gown, which she ordered to be made quite plain. "With none of your
+fal-de-lals," commanded Miss Junk, snorting. "Plain sewing and good
+stuff is all I arsk for. And if there's any left over you can send home
+a 'at of the same, which I can brighten with a cockes feather as my mar
+wore at her wedding. There, my own," added Debby, as they emerged from
+the shop and took a 'bus to Gwynne Street, "that's as you'll allways see
+me dressed&mdash;plain and 'omely, with no more trimmings than you'll see on
+a washing-day jint, as I know to my cost from my mar's ecomicals."</p>
+
+<p>"Economy, Debby."</p>
+
+<p>"It ain't fur me to be using fine words, Miss Sylvia; cockatoos'
+feathers on a goose they'd be in my mouth. The 'ole dixionary kin do for
+you my flower, but pothooks and 'angers never was my loves, me having
+been at the wash-tub when rising eight, and stout at that."</p>
+
+<p>In this way Debby discoursed all the way home. On arriving in the room
+over the shop they found themselves confronted by Aaron, who looked
+less
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
+timid than usual, and glowered at the pair angrily. "Where have you
+been, Sylvia?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The girl could not tell a direct lie, and looked at Debby. That
+handmaiden, less scrupulous, was about to blurt forth a garbled account,
+when Sylvia stopped her with a resolute expression on her pretty face.
+"No, Debby," she commanded, "let me speak. Father, I have been to see
+Mr. Beecot at the Charing Cross Hospital."</p>
+
+<p>"And you couldn't have my flower do less as a good Smart 'un," put in
+Debby, anxiously, so as to avert the storm. "Girls is girls whatever you
+may think, sir, of them being dolls and dummies and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue, woman," cried Norman, fiercely, "let me talk. Why is
+Mr. Beecot in the hospital?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was knocked down," said Sylvia, quietly, "and his arm is broken. A
+motor car ran over him in Gwynne Street. He wants to see you, to tell
+you that he lost something."</p>
+
+<p>Norman turned even whiter than he was by nature, and the perspiration
+suddenly beaded his bald forehead. "The opal serpent!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;the brooch he showed me."</p>
+
+<p>"He showed you!" cried Aaron, with a groan. "And what did he tell you
+about it?&mdash;what&mdash;what&mdash;what&mdash;the truth or&mdash;" He became passionate.</p>
+
+<p>Debby grasped Aaron's arm and whirled him into the middle of the room
+like a feather. Then she planted herself before Sylvia, with her arms
+akimbo, and glared like a lioness. "You can pinch me, sir, or gives me
+black eyes and red noses if you like, but no finger on my precious, if I
+die for it."</p>
+
+<p>Aaron was staggered by this defiance, and looked fierce for the moment.
+Then he became timid again and cast the odd, anxious look over his
+shoulder. "Leave the room, Deborah," he said in a mild voice.</p>
+
+<p>The faithful maid replied by sitting down and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
+folding her arms. "Get your wild horses, sir," she said, breathing
+heavily, "for only by them will I be tugged away." And she snorted so
+loudly that the room shook.</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw," said Norman, crossly, "Sylvia, don't be afraid of me." He wiped
+his face nervously. "I only want to know of the brooch. I like the
+opals&mdash;I wanted to buy it from Mr. Beecot. He is poor&mdash;he wants money. I
+can give it to him, for&mdash;the&mdash;the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>He brought out the last word with a gasp, and again glanced over his
+shoulder. Sylvia, not at all afraid, approached and took the old man's
+hand. The watchful Deborah moved her chair an inch nearer, so as to be
+ready for any emergency. "Dear father," said the girl, "Mr. Beecot
+doesn't know where the brooch is. It was stolen from him when the
+accident happened. If you will see him he can tell you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not where the brooch is," interrupted Aaron, trying to appear calm.
+"Well, well, it doesn't matter." He glanced anxiously at Sylvia. "You
+believe me, child, when I say it doesn't matter."</p>
+
+<p>A snort from Deborah plainly said that she had her doubts. Sylvia cast a
+reproving glance in her direction, whereupon she rose and committed
+perjury. "Of course it don't matter, sir," she said in a loud, hearty
+voice which made Aaron wince. "My precious believes you, though lie it
+might be. But folk so good as you, sir, who go to church when there
+ain't anyone to see, wouldn't tell lies without them a-choking of them
+in their blessed throats."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know I go to church?" asked Norman, with the snarl of a
+trapped animal.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless you, sir, I don't need glarses at my age, though not so young as
+I might be. Church you enjiy, say what you may, you being as regular as
+the taxes, which is saying much. Lor' save us all!"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
+
+<p>Deborah might well exclaim this. Her master flung himself forward with
+outstretched hands clawing the air, and with his lips lifted like those
+of an enraged dog. "You she-cat," he said in a painfully hissing voice,
+"you're a spy, are you? They've set you to watch&mdash;to drag me to the
+gallows&mdash;" he broke off with a shiver. His rage cooled as suddenly as it
+had heated, and staggering to the sofa he sat down with his face hidden.
+"Not that&mdash;not that&mdash;oh, the years of pain and terror! To come to
+this&mdash;to this&mdash;Deborah&mdash;don't sell me. Don't. I'll give you money&mdash;I am
+rich. But if the opal serpent&mdash;if the opal&mdash;" He rose and began to beat
+the air with his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia, who had never seen her father like this, shrank back in terror,
+but Deborah, with all her wits about her, though she was wildly
+astonished, seized a carafe of water from the table and dashed the
+contents in his face. The old man gasped, shuddered, and, dripping wet,
+sank again on the sofa. But the approaching fit was past, and when he
+looked up after a moment or so, his voice was as calm as his face.
+"What's all this?" he asked, feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, father," said Sylvia, kneeling beside him; "you must not doubt
+Debby, who is as true as steel."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you, Deborah?" asked Aaron, weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so," she declared, putting her arms round Sylvia, "so
+long, sir, as you don't hurt my flower."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to hurt her ..."</p>
+
+<p>"There's feelings as well as bones," said Deborah, hugging Sylvia so as
+to keep her from speaking, "and love you can't squash, try as you may,
+though, bless you, I'm not given to keeping company myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Love," said Aaron, vacantly. He seemed to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
+think more of his troubles than of Sylvia going to visit a young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Love and Mr. Beecot," said Deborah. "She wants to marry him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then," said Aaron, calmly, "she shall marry him."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia fell at his feet. "Oh, father&mdash;father, and I have kept it from
+you all these months. Forgive me&mdash;forgive me," and she wept.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," he said, gently raising her, "there is nothing to forgive."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">A NOISE IN THE NIGHT</p>
+
+
+<p>Both Deborah and Sylvia were astonished that Aaron should be so
+indifferent about their long concealment. They had expected and dreaded
+a storm, yet when the secret was told Mr. Norman appeared to take it as
+calmly as though he had known about the matter from the first. Indeed,
+he seemed perfectly indifferent, and when he raised Sylvia and made her
+sit beside him on the sofa he reverted to the brooch.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall certainly see Mr. Beecot," he said in a dreamy way. "Charing
+Cross Hospital&mdash;of course. I'll go to-morrow. I had intended to see
+about selling the furniture then, but I'll wait till the next day. I
+want the brooch first&mdash;yes&mdash;yes," and he opened and shut his hand in a
+strangely restless manner.</p>
+
+<p>The girl and the servant looked at one another in a perplexed way, for
+it was odd Norman should take the secret wooing of his daughter so
+quietly. He had never evinced much interest in Sylvia, who had been left
+mainly to the rough attentions of Miss Junk, but sometimes he had
+mentioned that Sylvia would be an heiress and fit to marry a poor peer.
+The love of Paul Beecot overthrew this scheme, if the man intended to
+carry it out, yet he did not seem to mind. Sylvia, thinking entirely of
+Paul, was glad, and the tense expression of her face relaxed; but
+Deborah sniffed, which was always an
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
+intimation that she intended to unburden her mind on an unpleasant
+subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," she said, folding her arms and scratching her elbow, "I do
+think as offspring ain't lumps of dirt to be trod on in this way. I
+arsk"&mdash;she flung out her hand towards Sylvia&mdash;"Is she your own or is she
+not?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is my daughter," said Aaron, mildly. "Why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause you don't take interest you should take in her marriage, which
+is made in heaven if ever marriage was."</p>
+
+<p>Norman raised his head like a war-horse at the sound of a trumpet-call.
+"Who talks of marriage?" he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear father," said Sylvia, gently, "did you not hear? I love Paul, and
+I want to marry him."</p>
+
+<p>Aaron stared at her. "He is not a good match for you," was his reply.</p>
+
+<p>"He is the man I love," cried Sylvia, tapping with her pretty foot.</p>
+
+<p>"Love," said Norman, with a melancholy smile, "there is no such thing,
+child. Talk of hate&mdash;for that exists," he clenched his hands again,
+"hate that is as cruel as the grave."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I'm sure, sir, and what 'ave hates to do with my beauty there? As
+to love, exist it do, for Bart's bin talked into filling his 'eart with
+the same, by me. I got it out of a <i>Family Herald</i>," explained Deborah,
+incoherently, "where gentry throw themselves on their knees to arsk
+'ands in marriage. Bart was down on his hunkers every night for two
+weeks before he proposed proper, and I ses, ses I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you hold your tongue?" interrupted Aaron, angrily; "you gabble
+gabble till you make my head ache. You confuse me."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to clear your 'ead," retorted Miss Junk,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
+"seeing you take no interest in my pretty's livings."</p>
+
+<p>Norman placed his fingers under Sylvia's chin, and tipped it up so that
+he could gaze into her eyes. "Child, do you love him?" he asked gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father!" whispered Sylvia, and said no more. The expression of her
+eyes was enough for Aaron, and he turned away with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"You know nothing about him," he said at length.</p>
+
+<p>"Begging pardon, sir, for being a gabbler," said Deborah, witheringly,
+"but know what he is we do&mdash;a fine young gent with long descents and
+stone figgers in churches, as Bart knows. Beecot's his par's name, as is
+fighting with Mr. Paul by reason of contrariness and 'igh living, him
+being as stout as stout."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you will explain, Sylvia," said Aaron, turning impatiently from
+the handmaiden.</p>
+
+<p>"I should have explained before," said the girl, quietly and very
+distinctly. "I loved Paul from the moment I saw him enter the shop six
+months ago. He came again and again, and we often talked. Then he told
+me of his love, and I confessed mine. Deborah wanted to know who he was,
+and if he was a good man. From what I learned of Paul's people he seemed
+to be all that was good and generous and high-minded and loving. Deborah
+sent Bart one holiday to Wargrove in Essex, where Paul's parents live,
+and Bart found that Paul had left home because he wanted to be an
+author. Paul is very popular in Wargrove, and everyone speaks well of
+him. So Deborah thought we might be engaged, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And have you a word to say against it, sir?" demanded Deborah,
+bristling.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Aaron, after a pause, "but you should have told me."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
+
+<p>"We should," admitted Sylvia, quickly, "but Paul and I feared lest you
+should say 'No.'"</p>
+
+<p>"My child," said the old man, gravely, "so long as you wed a kind and
+good man I have nothing to say. Sylvia, I have worked hard these many
+years and have made much money, which, by will, I have left to you. When
+I die you will be rich. He is poor."</p>
+
+<p>"Paul&mdash;yes, he is poor. But what of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Many fathers might think that an objection," went on Aaron without
+noticing her remark. "But I do not. You shall marry Paul before I go to
+America."</p>
+
+<p>"Lor'!" cried Deborah, "whatever are you a-goin' there for, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's my business," said Aaron, dryly, "but I go as soon as I can. I
+have sold the books; and the furniture of these rooms shall be disposed
+of before the end of the week. My gems I take to Amsterdam for sale, and
+I go abroad next week. When I return in a fortnight you can marry Mr.
+Beecot. He is a good young man. I quite approve of him."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah snorted. "Seems to me as though you was glad to get quit of my
+pretty," she murmured, but too low to be overheard.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father," cried Sylvia, putting her arms round Norman's neck, "how
+good you are! I <i>do</i> love him so."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope the love will continue," said her father, cynically, and
+removing the girl's arms, to the secret indignation of Deborah. "I shall
+call on Mr. Beecot to-morrow and speak to him myself about the matter.
+If we come to an arrangement, for I have a condition to make before I
+give my entire consent, I shall allow you a certain sum to live on. Then
+I shall go to America, and when I die you will inherit all my
+money&mdash;when I die," he added, casting the usual look over his shoulders.
+"But I won't die for many a long day,"
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+he said, with a determined air. "At least, I hope not."</p>
+
+<p>"You are healthy enough, father."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! Yes&mdash;but healthy people die in queer ways."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah intervened impatiently. "I'm glad you wish to make my lily-queen
+happy, sir," said she, nodding, "but change your mind you may if Mr.
+Beecot don't fall in."</p>
+
+<p>"Fall in?" queried Aaron.</p>
+
+<p>"With this arrangements&mdash;what is they?"</p>
+
+<p>Aaron looked undecided, then spoke impulsively, walking towards the door
+as he did so. "Let Mr. Beecot give me that opal serpent," he said, "and
+he shall have Sylvia and enough to live on."</p>
+
+<p>"But, father, it is lost," cried Sylvia, in dismay.</p>
+
+<p>She spoke to the empty air. Norman had hastily passed through the door
+and was descending the stairs quicker than usual. Sylvia, in her
+eagerness to explain, would have followed, but Deborah drew her back
+with rough gentleness. "Let him go, lily-queen," she said; "let sleeping
+dogs lie if you love me."</p>
+
+<p>"Deborah, what do you mean?" asked Sylvia, breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean anything that have a meaning," said Miss Junk,
+enigmatically, "but your par's willing to sell you for that dratted
+brooch, whatever he wants it for. And you to be put against a brooch my
+honey-pot. I'm biling&mdash;yes, biling hard," and Deborah snorted in proof
+of the extremity of her rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Debby. Father consents that I shall marry Paul, and will
+give us enough to live on. Then Paul will write great books, and his
+father will ask him home again. Oh&mdash;oh!" Sylvia danced round the room
+gaily, "how happy I am."</p>
+
+<p>"And happy you shall be if I die for it," shouted
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
+Deborah, screwing up her face, for she was not altogether satisfied,
+"though mysteries I don't hold with, are about. America&mdash;what's he
+going to America for? and with that brooch, and him locking us up every
+night to sleep in cellars. Police-courts and Old Baileys," said Miss
+Junk, frowning. "I don't like it, Sunbeam, and when you're married to
+Mr. Beecot I'll be that happy as never was."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia opened her grey eyes in wide surprise and a little alarm. "Oh,
+Debby, you don't think there's anything wrong with father?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Junk privately thought there was a good deal wrong, but she folded
+Sylvia in her stout arms and dismissed the question with a snort. "No,
+lovey, my own, there ain't. It's just my silly way of going on. Orange
+buds and brides the sun shines on, is your fortunes, Miss Sylvia, though
+how I'm going to call you Mrs. Beecot beats me," and Deborah rubbed her
+nose.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall always be Sylvia to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless you, lady-bird, but don't ask me to live with Mr. Beecot's
+frantic par, else there'll be scratchings if he don't do proper what he
+should do and don't. So there." Deborah swung her arms like a windmill.
+"My mind's easy and dinner's waiting, for, love or no love, eat you
+must, to keep your insides' clockwork."</p>
+
+<p>When Bart heard the joyful news he was glad, but expressed regret that
+Norman should go to America. He did not wish to lose his situation, and
+never thought the old man would take him to the States also. Deborah
+vowed that if Aaron did want to transport Bart&mdash;so she put it&mdash;she would
+object. Then she unfolded a scheme by which, with Bart's savings and her
+own, they could start a laundry. "And I knows a drying ground," said
+Deborah, while talking at supper to her proposed husband, "as is lovely
+and cheap. One of them suburbs on the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+line to Essex, where my pretty will live when her husband's frantic par
+makes it up. Jubileetown's the place, and Victoria Avenue the street.
+The sweetest cottage at twenty pun' a year as I ever set eyes on. And
+m'sister as is married to a bricklayer is near to help with the family."</p>
+
+<p>"The family?" echoed Bart, looking scared.</p>
+
+<p>"In course&mdash;they will come, though it's early to be thinking of names
+for 'em. I'll do the washing, Bart, and you'll take round the cart, so
+don't you think things 'ull be otherwise."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want 'em to," said Bart, affectionately. "I always loved you,
+Debby darling."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Miss Junk, luxuriously, "I've taught you to, in quite a
+genteel way. What a scrubby little brat you were, Bart!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yuss," said Mr. Tawsey, eating rapidly. "I saw myself to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"In a looking-glarse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lor', Debby&mdash;no. But there wos a brat all rags and dirty face and sauce
+as I was when you saw me fust. He come into the shop as bold as brass
+and arsked fur a book. I ses, 'What do you want with a book?' and he
+ses, looking at the shelves so empty, 'I sees your sellin' off,' he ses,
+so I jumped up to clip him over the 'ead, when he cut. Tray's his name,
+Debby, and he's the kid as talked to that cold gent Mr. Beecot brought
+along with him when he got smashed."</p>
+
+<p>"Tray&mdash;that's a dog's name," said Deborah, "old dog Tray, and quite good
+enough for guttersnipes. As to Mr. Hay, don't arsk me to say he's good,
+for that he ain't. What's he want talking with gutter Trays?"</p>
+
+<p>"And what do gutter Trays want with books?" asked Bart, "though to be
+sure 'twas impertinence maybe."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah nodded. "That it was, and what you'd
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
+have done when you was a scrubby thing. Don't bolt your food, but make
+every bit 'elp you to 'ealth and long living. You won't 'ave
+gormandising when we've got the laundry, I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Next day Aaron went off in the afternoon to Charing Cross Hospital,
+after holding a conversation with a broker who had agreed to buy the
+derelict furniture. The shop, being empty, was supposed to be closed,
+but from force of habit Bart took down the shutters and lurked
+disconsolately behind the bare counter. Several old customers who had
+not heard of the sale entered, and were disappointed when they learned
+that Aaron was leaving. Their lamentations made Bart quite low-spirited.
+However, he was polite to all, but his manners broke down when a Hindoo
+entered to sell boot-laces. "I ain't got nothing to sell, and don't want
+to buy nohow," said Bart, violently.</p>
+
+<p>The man did not move, but stood impassively in the doorway like a bronze
+statue. He wore a dirty red turban carelessly wound round his small
+head, an unclean blouse which had once been white, circled by a yellow
+handkerchief of some coarse stuff, dark blue trousers and slippers with
+curled-up toes on naked feet. His eyes were black and sparkling and he
+had a well-trimmed moustache which contrasted oddly with his shabby
+attire. "Hokar is poor: Hokar need money," he whined in a monotone, but
+with his eyes glancing restlessly round the shop. "Give Hokar&mdash;give,"
+and he held out the laces.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't want any, I tell you," shouted Bart, tartly. "I'll call a peeler
+if you don't git."</p>
+
+<p>"Ho! ho! who stole the donkey?" cried a shrill voice at the door, and
+from behind the hawker was poked a touzelled curly head, and a grinning
+face which sadly needed washing. "You leave this cove alone, won't y?
+He's a pal o' mine. D'y see?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+
+<p>"You git along with your pal then," cried Bart, indignantly. "If he
+don't understand King's English, you do, Tray."</p>
+
+<p>Tray darted into the middle of the shop and made a face at the indignant
+shopman by putting his fingers in his mouth to widen it, and pulling
+down his eyes. Hokar never smiled, but showed no disposition to move.
+Bart, angered at this blocking up the doorway, and by Tray's war dance,
+jumped the counter. He aimed a blow at the guttersnipe's head, but
+missed it and fell full length. The next moment Tray was dancing on his
+body with his tongue out derisively. Then Hokar gave a weird smile.
+"Kalee!" he said to himself. "Kalee!"</p>
+
+<p>How the scene would have ended it is impossible to say, but while Bart
+strove to rise and overturn Tray, Aaron walked in past the Indian.
+"What's this?" he asked sharply. Tray stopped his dancing on Bart's
+prostrate body and gave a shrill whistle by placing two dirty fingers in
+his mouth. Then he darted between Norman's legs and made off. Hokar
+stood staring at the bookseller, and after a pause pointed with his
+finger. "One&mdash;eye," he said calmly, "no good!"</p>
+
+<p>Aaron was about to inquire what he meant by this insult, when the Indian
+walked to the counter and placed something thereon, after which he moved
+away, and his voice was heard dying away down the street. "Hokar is
+poor&mdash;Hokar need money. Hokar, Christian."</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" demanded Norman, again assisting Bart roughly to his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Blest if I know," replied Tawsey, staring; "they're mad, I think," and
+he related the incoming of the Indian and the street arab. "As for that
+Tray," said he, growling, "I'll punch his blooming 'ead when I meets him
+agin, dancing on me&mdash;yah. Allays meddlin'
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+that brat, jus' as he wos when Mr. Beecot was smashed."</p>
+
+<p>"You saw that accident?" asked his master, fixing his one eye on him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yuss," said Bart, slowly, "I did, but Deborah she told me to say
+nothink. Mr. Beecot was smashed, and his friend, the cold eye-glarsed
+gent, pulled him from under the wheels of that there machine with Tray
+to help him, and between 'em they carried him to the pavement."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" said Aaron, resting his chin on his hand and speaking more to
+himself than to his assistant, "so Tray was on the spot. Humph!" Bart,
+having brushed himself, moved behind the counter and took up what Hokar
+had left. "Why, it's brown sugar!" he exclaimed, touching it with his
+tongue, "coarse brown sugar&mdash;a handful." He stretched out his palm
+heaped with the sugar to his master. "What do that furrein pusson mean
+by leaving dirt about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, nor do I care," snapped Aaron, who appeared to be out of
+temper. "Throw it away!" which Bart did, after grumbling again at the
+impudence of the street hawker.</p>
+
+<p>Norman did not go upstairs, but descended to the cellar, where he busied
+himself in looking over the contents of the three safes. In these, were
+many small boxes filled with gems of all kind, cut and uncut: also
+articles of jewellery consisting of necklaces, bracelets, stars for the
+hair, brooches, and tiaras. The jewels glittered in the flaring
+gaslight, and Aaron fondled them as though they were living things. "You
+beauties," he whispered to himself, with his one eye gloating over his
+hoard. "I'll sell you, though it goes to my heart to part with lovely
+things. But I must&mdash;I must&mdash;and then I'll go&mdash;not to America&mdash;oh, dear
+no! but to the South Seas. They won't find me there&mdash;no&mdash;no! I'll be
+rich, and happy, and free. Sylvia can marry and live happy. But the
+serpent,"
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+he said in a harsh tone, "oh, the opal serpent! The pawnbroker's shop.
+Stowley&mdash;yes&mdash;I know it. I know it. Stowley. They want it
+back; but they sha'n't. I'll buy it from Beecot by giving him Sylvia.
+It's lost&mdash;lost." He looked over his shoulder as he spoke in a
+terrified whisper. "Perhaps they have it, and then&mdash;then," he
+leaped up and flung the armful of baubles he held on to the deal table,
+"and then&mdash;I must get away&mdash;away."</p>
+
+<p>He pulled out three or four coarse sacks of a small size and filled
+these with the jewellery. Then he tied a cord round the neck of each
+sack and sealed it. Afterwards, with a sigh, he closed the safe and
+turned down the gas. He did not leave by the trap, which led through the
+shop, but opened and locked the back door of the cellar, ascended the
+steps and went out into the street through the side passage. "If they
+come," he thought as he walked into the gathering night, "they won't
+find these. No! no!" and he hugged the bags closely.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia upstairs waited anxiously for the return of her father from the
+hospital, as she both wanted to hear how her lover was progressing and
+what he said about the permission to marry being given. But Aaron did
+not come to supper, as was his usual custom. Bart said, when inquiries
+were made, that the master had gone down into the cellar and was
+probably there. Meanwhile, according to his usual habit, he put up the
+shutters and departed. Sylvia and Deborah ate their frugal meal and
+retired to bed, the girl much disturbed at the absence of her father.
+Outside, in the street, the passers-by diminished in number, and as the
+night grew darker and the lamps were lighted hardly a person remained in
+Gwynne Street. It was not a fashionable thoroughfare, and after
+nightfall few people came that way. By eleven o'clock there was not a
+soul about. Even the one policeman who usually
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
+perambulated the street was conspicuous by his absence.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia, in her bed, had fallen into a troubled sleep, and was dreaming
+of Paul, but not happily. She seemed to see him in trouble. Then she
+woke suddenly, with all her senses alert, and sat up. Faintly she heard
+a wild cry, and then came the twelve strokes of the church bells
+announcing midnight. Breathlessly she waited, but the cry was not
+repeated. In the darkness she sat up listening until the quarter chimed.
+Then the measured footsteps of a policeman were heard passing down the
+street and dying away. Sylvia was terrified. Why, she hardly knew: but
+she sprang from her bed and hurried into Deborah's room. "Wake up," she
+said, "there's something wrong."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah was awake in a moment and lighted the lamp. On hearing Sylvia's
+story she went down the stairs followed by the girl. The door at the
+bottom, strange to say, was not locked. Deborah opened this, and peering
+into the shop gave a cry of alarm and horror.</p>
+
+<p>Lying on the floor was Aaron, bound hand and foot.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">A TERRIBLE NIGHT</p>
+
+
+<p>"Go back!&mdash;go back, my precious!" cried Deborah, her first thought being
+how to spare Sylvia the sight.</p>
+
+<p>But the girl, remembering that agonized cry which had awakened her,
+faint and far away as it sounded, pushed past the servant and ran into
+the middle of the shop. The lamp, held high by Deborah over her head,
+cast a bright circle of light on the floor, and in the middle of this
+Sylvia saw her father breathing heavily. His hands were bound behind his
+back in a painful way, his feet were tightly fastened, and his head
+seemed to be attached to the floor. At least, when the body (as it
+seemed from its stillness) suddenly writhed, it rolled to one side, but
+the head remained almost motionless. The two women hung back, clutching
+each other's hands, and were almost too horrified to move at the sight.
+"Look! Look!" cried Sylvia, gasping, "the mouth!" Deborah looked and
+gave a moan. Aaron's mouth was rigidly closed under a glittering jewel.
+Deborah bent down, still moaning, so great did the horror of the thing
+paralyse her speech, and saw the lights flash back from many diamonds:
+she saw bluish gleams and then a red sparkle like the ray of the setting
+sun. It was the opal serpent brooch, and Aaron's lips were fastened
+together with the stout pin. On his mouth and across his agonised face
+in which the one eye gleamed
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
+with terrific meaning the jewelled serpent seemed to writhe.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, poor soul!" cried Deborah, falling on her knees with the lamp still
+held above her head. "Sylvia see&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The girl gasped again, and impulsively knelt also, trying with nerveless
+fingers to unfasten the cruel pin which sealed the man's lips. He still
+lived, for they heard him breathing and saw the gleaming eye: but even
+as they looked the face grew black: the eye opened and closed
+convulsively. Deborah set down the lamp and tried to raise the head. She
+could not lift it from the floor. Then the bound feet swung in the air
+and fell again with a dull thud. The eye remained wide open, staring in
+a glassy, manner: the breathing had stopped: and the body was
+motionless. "He's dead," said Deborah, leaping to her feet and catching
+away the girl. "Help! Help!"</p>
+
+<p>Her loud voice rang fiercely through the empty shop and echoed round and
+round. But there came no answering cry. Not a sound could be heard in
+the street. On the bare floor was the lamp shining on that dreadful
+sight: the body with sealed lips, and the glittering jewel, and leaning
+against the wall were the two women, Deborah staring at her dead master,
+but with Sylvia's eyes pressed against her bosom so that she might not
+witness the horror. And the stillness deepened weirdly every moment.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia tried to move her head, but Deborah pressed it closer to her
+breast. "Don't, my pretty&mdash;don't," she whispered harshly.</p>
+
+<p>"I must&mdash;I&mdash;ah!" the girl freed her head from those kind arms with a
+wrench, and looked at the gruesome sight. She staggered forward a few
+steps, and then fell back. Deborah received her in her arms, and,
+thankful that Sylvia had fainted, carried her up the stairs to lay the
+unconscious girl on her
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
+own bed. Then she descended rapidly, locked the door leading from the
+shop to the stairs, and again looked at the body. The time she had been
+away was about seven or eight minutes, and the body still remained with
+the one open eye staring meaninglessly at the ceiling. Deborah, drawn by
+fascination like a bird by a serpent, crept forward and touched the
+head. It moved, and she again tried to lift it. This time she found she
+could do so. The head she lifted against her breast, and then laid it
+down with horror when she found the bosom of her nightgown was stained
+with blood. Pulling her wits together, for she felt that she needed them
+every one, she examined the head and neck. To her horror she found round
+the throat a strong thin copper wire, which disappeared through a hole
+in the floor. Apparently this had been pulled so tightly as to keep the
+head down and to choke the old man, and so cruelly as to cut deeply into
+the flesh. With a moan of horror Deborah dropped the head and ran to the
+trap-door in the corner. If anywhere, those who had murdered Aaron
+Norman were lurking in the cellar. But the trap-door would not open, and
+then she remembered that it was closed by a bolt underneath. She could
+not reach the midnight assassin that way.</p>
+
+<p>"The front door," she gasped, and ran to unbolt it. The bolts were
+easily removed, but the door was also locked, and Aaron usually had the
+key deposited nightly in the cellar by Bart. Repugnant as it was for her
+to approach the dead body, Deborah again went forward and felt in the
+pockets and loose clothing. The man was completely dressed, even to an
+overcoat which he wore. But she could not find the key and wondered what
+she was to do. Probably the key had been hung up in the cellar as usual.
+Necessity being the mother of invention, she remembered that the
+window-glass
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+was fragile, and ran up in the hope of breaking through. But the stout
+shutters were up, so Deborah found that she was sealed in the house.
+Almost in a state of distraction, for by this time her nerve had given
+way, she unlocked the door to the stairs and ran up three steps at a
+time to the sitting-room. Here she opened the window and scrambled out
+on to the ledge among Sylvia's flower-pots. Just as she was wondering
+how she could get down, the measured tread of a policeman was heard, and
+by craning her neck Deborah saw him coming leisurely along the street,
+swinging his dark lantern on the windows and doors. It was a moonlight
+night and the street was extraordinarily well lighted as the moon shone
+straightly between the houses. Gathering her strength for a last effort,
+Deborah yelled as only she could yell, and saw the startled officer
+spinning round, looking up and down and sideways to see where the
+shrieks came from. "Up&mdash;up&mdash;oh, look up, you fool!" screamed
+Deborah. "Murder&mdash;oh, murder! Burst in the door, call the police,
+drat you! Help!&mdash;help!"</p>
+
+<p>By this time she was the centre of a circle of bright light, for the
+policeman had located her, and his lantern was flashing on her white
+nightgown as she clung to the window-sill.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you making that noise for?" called up the officer, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"Murder, you fool!" screamed Deborah. "Master's murdered. Number
+forty-five&mdash;the door's locked&mdash;break it open. Police!&mdash;police!"</p>
+
+<p>Before she finished the sentence the officer blew his whistle shrilly
+and ran to the door of the shop, against which he placed his shoulder.
+Deborah climbed in again by the window, and ran down again, but even
+then, in her excitement and horror, she did not forget to lock the door
+leading to the stairs, so that Sylvia might not be disturbed. As
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
+she descended she flung a thick shawl over her shoulders, which she had
+caught up when leaving her room, though for the rest she had nothing on
+but a nightgown. But the poor woman was too terrified to be troubled by
+any scruples at the moment, and reached the shop to hear heavy blows on
+the door. Between the thuds Deborah could hear footsteps running inward
+from every quarter. "I ain't got the key!" she shrieked through the
+keyhole; "break in the door, drat you! Murder!&mdash;murder!"</p>
+
+<p>From the noise she made those without concluded that some terrible crime
+was taking place within, and redoubled their efforts. Deborah had just
+time to leap back after a final scream when the door fell flat on the
+floor, and three policemen sprang into the room with drawn batons and
+their lights flashing like stars. The lamp was still on the floor
+shedding its heavy yellow light on the corpse. "Master!" gasped Deborah,
+pointing a shaking finger. "Dead&mdash;the&mdash;the cellar&mdash;the&mdash;" and here she
+made as to drop. A policeman caught her in his arms, but the woman shook
+herself free. "I sha'n't faint&mdash;no&mdash;I sha'n't faint," she gasped, "the
+cellar&mdash;look&mdash;look&mdash;" She ran forward and raised the head of the dead
+man. When the officers saw the dangling slack wire disappearing through
+a hole in the floor they grasped the situation. "The passage outside!"
+cried Deborah, directing operations; "the trap-door," she ran to it,
+"fast bolted below, and them murdering people are there."</p>
+
+<p>"How many are there?" asked a policeman, while several officers ran
+round the back through the side passage.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you dratted fool, how should I know!" cried Deborah, fiercely;
+"there may be one and there may be twenty. Go and catch them&mdash;you're
+paid for it. Send to number twenty Park Street, Bloomsbury, for Bart."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Who is Bart?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go and fetch him," cried Deborah, furious at this delay; "number twenty
+Park Street, Bloomsbury. Oh, what a night this is! I'm a-goin' to see
+Miss Sylvia, who has fainted, and small blame," and she made for the
+locked door. An officer came after her. "Go away," shrieked Deborah,
+pushing him back. "I've got next to nothink on, and my pretty is ill. Go
+away and do your business."</p>
+
+<p>Seeing she was distracted and hardly knew what she was saying, the man
+drew back, and Deborah ran up the stairs to Sylvia's room, where she
+found the poor girl still unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, an Inspector had arrived, and one of the policemen was
+detailing all that had occurred from the time Deborah had given the
+alarm at the window. The Inspector listened quietly to everything, and
+then examined the body. "Strangled with a copper wire," he said, looking
+up. "Go for a doctor one of you. It goes through the floor," he added,
+touching the wire which still circled the throat, "and must have been
+pulled from below. Examine the cellar."</p>
+
+<p>Even as he spoke, and while one zealous officer ran off for a medical
+man, there was a grating sound and the trap-door was thrown open. A
+policeman leaped into the shop and saluted when he saw his superior. By
+this time the gas had been lighted. "We've broken down the back door,
+sir," said he, "the cellar door&mdash;it was locked but not bolted. Nothing
+in the cellar, everything in order, but that wire," he pointed to the
+means used for strangling, "dangled from the ceiling and a cross piece
+of wood is bound to the lower end."</p>
+
+<p>"Who does the shop belong to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aaron Norman," said the policeman whose beat it was; "he's a
+second-hand bookseller, a quiet, harmless, timid sort of man."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Anyone about?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. I passed down Gwynne Street at about a quarter past twelve and
+all seemed safe. When I come back later&mdash;it might have been twenty
+minutes and more&mdash;say twenty-five&mdash;I saw the woman who was down here
+clinging to a window on the first floor, and shouting murder. I gave the
+summons, sir, and we broke open the door."</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Prince laid down the dead man's head and rose to his feet with
+a nod. "I'll go upstairs and see the woman," he said; "tell me when the
+doctor comes."</p>
+
+<p>Upstairs he examined the sitting-room, and lighted the gas therein; then
+he mounted another storey after looking through the kitchen and
+dining-room. In a bedroom he found an empty bed, but heard someone
+talking in a room near at hand. Flinging open the door he heard a
+shriek, and found himself confronted by Deborah, who had hastily flung
+on some clothes. "Don't come in," she cried, extending her arm, "for I'm
+just getting Miss Sylvia round."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense," said the Inspector, and pushing her roughly aside he stepped
+into the room. On the bed lay Sylvia, apparently still unconscious, but
+as the man looked at her she opened her eyes with a long sigh. Deborah
+put her arms round the girl and began to talk to her in an endearing
+way. Shortly Sylvia sat up, bewildered. "What is it?" she asked. Then
+her eyes fell on the policeman. "Oh, where is my father?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's dead, pretty," said Deborah, fondling her. "Don't take on so."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I remember&mdash;the body on the floor&mdash;the serpent across the
+mouth&mdash;oh&mdash;oh!" and she fainted again.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" cried Deborah, with bitter triumph, "see what you've done."</p>
+
+<p>"Come&mdash;come," said Inspector Prince, though as
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
+gently as possible. "I am in charge of this case. Tell me what has
+happened."</p>
+
+<p>"If you'd use your blessed eyes you'd see murder has happened," said
+Miss Junk, savagely. "Let me attend to my pretty."</p>
+
+<p>Just at this moment a tall young man entered the room. It was the
+doctor. "The policemen said you were up here," he said in a pleasant
+voice. "I've examined the body, Inspector. The man is quite dead&mdash;he has
+been strangled&mdash;and in a cruel manner with that copper wire, which has
+cut into the throat, to say nothing of this," and the doctor held out
+the brooch.</p>
+
+<p>"That, drat it!" cried Deborah, vigorously, "it's the cause of it all, I
+do believe, if I died in saying so," and she began to rub Sylvia's hands
+vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this young lady?" asked the doctor; "another patient?"</p>
+
+<p>"And well she may be," said Miss Junk. "Call yourself a doctor, and
+don't help me to bring her to."</p>
+
+<p>"Do what you can," said Prince, "and you," he added to Deborah, "come
+down with me. I wish to ask you a few questions."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah was no fool and saw that the Inspector was determined to make
+her do what he wanted. Besides, Sylvia was in the hands of the doctor,
+and Deborah felt that he could do more than she, to bring the poor girl
+to her senses. After a few parting injunctions she left the room and
+went downstairs with the Inspector. The police had made no further
+discovery.</p>
+
+<p>Prince questioned not only the Gwynne Street policeman, who had given
+his report, but all others who had been in the vicinity. But they could
+tell him nothing. No one suspicious had been seen leaving Gwynne Street
+north or south, so, finding he could learn nothing in this direction,
+Prince turned his attention to the servant. "Now, then, what do
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+you know?" he asked. "Don't say anything likely to incriminate
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Me!" shouted Deborah, bouncing up with a fiery face. "Don't you be
+taking away my character. Why, I know no more who have done it than a
+babe unborn, and that's stupid enough, I 'opes, Mr. Policeman. Ho!
+indeed, and we pays our taxes to be insulted by you, Mr. Policeman." She
+was very aggravating, and many a man would have lost his temper. But
+Inspector Prince was a quiet and self-controlled officer, and knew how
+to deal with this violent class of women. He simply waited till Deborah
+had exhausted herself, and then gently asked her a few questions.
+Finding he was reasonable, Deborah became reasonable on her part, and
+replied with great intelligence. In a few minutes the Inspector, by
+handling her deftly, learned all that had taken place on that terrible
+night, from the time Sylvia had started up in bed at the sound of that
+far-distant cry of a soul in agony. "And that, from what Miss Sylvia
+says," ended Deborah, "was just before the church clock struck the hour
+of twelve."</p>
+
+<p>"You came down a quarter of an hour later?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did, when Miss Sylvia woke me," said Deborah; "she was frightened out
+of her seven senses, and couldn't get up at once. Yes&mdash;it was about
+twenty minutes after the hour we come down to see&mdash;It," and the woman,
+strong nerved as she was, shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph," said the Inspector, "the assassin had time to escape."</p>
+
+<p>"Begging your pardon, sir, them, or him, or her, or it as murdered
+master was below in the cellar when we saw the corp&mdash;not that it was
+what you'd call a corp then."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you say precisely what you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Deborah did so, and with such wealth of detail that even the hardened
+Inspector felt the creeps down his official back. There was something
+terribly merciless
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
+about this crime. The man had been bound like a sheep for the slaughter;
+his mouth had been sealed with the brooch so that he could not cry out,
+and then in the sight of his child and servant he had been slowly
+strangled by means of the copper wire which communicated with the
+cellar. One of the policemen brought up an auger which evidently had
+been used to bore the hole for the wire to pass through, for the fresh
+sawdust was still in its whorls. "Who does this belong to?" Prince asked
+Deborah.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Bart's," said Deborah, staring; "he was using it along with other
+tools to make some deal boxes for master, who was going away. I expect
+it was found in the cellar in the tool-box, for Bart allays brought it
+in tidy-like after he'd done his work in the yard, weather being fine,
+of course," ended Deborah, sniffing.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is this Bart?"</p>
+
+<p>"In bed like a decent man if he's to be my husband, which he is," said
+Miss Junk, tartly. "I told one of them idle bobbies to go and fetch him
+from Bloomsbury."</p>
+
+<p>"One has gone," said another policeman. "Bart Tawsey isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bartholemew Tawsey, if you please," said the servant, grandly. "I
+only hope he'll be here soon to protect me."</p>
+
+<p>"You're quite safe," said Prince, dryly, whereat there was a smile on
+the faces of his underlings, for Deborah in her disordered dress and
+with her swollen, flushed, excited face was not comely. "But what about
+this brooch you say is the cause of it all?"</p>
+
+<p>Deborah dropped with an air of fatigue. "If you kill me I can't talk of
+it now," she protested. "The brooch belonged to Mr. Paul Beecot."</p>
+
+<p>"And where is he?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
+
+<p>"In the Charing Cross Hospital if you want to know, and as he's engaged
+to my pretty you needn't think he done it&mdash;so there."</p>
+
+<p>"I am accusing no one," said the Inspector, grimly, "but we must get to
+the bottom of this horrible crime."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well you may call it that," wailed Deborah, "with that serping on
+his poor mouth and him wriggling like an eel to get free. But 'ark,
+there's my pretty a-calling," and Miss Junk dashed headlong from the
+shop shouting comfort to Sylvia as she went.</p>
+
+<p>Prince looked at the dead man and at the opal serpent which he held in
+his hand. "This at one end of the matter, and that at the other. What is
+the connecting link between this brooch and that corpse?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">THE VERDICT OF THE JURY</p>
+
+
+<p>As may be guessed, the murder of Aaron Norman caused a tremendous
+sensation. One day the name was unknown, the next and it was in the
+mouths of the millions. The strange circumstances of the crime, the
+mystery which shrouded it, the abominable cruelty of the serpent brooch
+having been used to seal the man's lips while he was being slowly
+strangled, deepened the interest immensely. Here, at last was a murder
+worthy of Wilkie Collins's or Gaboriau's handling; such a crime as one
+expected to read of in a novel, but never could hope to hear of in real
+life. Fact had for once poached on the domains of fiction.</p>
+
+<p>But notwithstanding all the inquiries which were made, and all the
+vigilance of the police, and all the newspaper articles, and all the
+theories sent by people who knew nothing whatever of the matter, nothing
+tangible was discovered likely to lead to a discovery of the assassins
+or assassin. It was conjectured that two people at least had been
+concerned in the committal of the crime, as, weak physically though he
+was, the deceased would surely not have allowed himself to be bound by
+one person, however strong that person might be. In such a case there
+would certainly have been a scuffle, and as the daughter of the murdered
+man heard his cry for help&mdash;which was what Sylvia did hear&mdash;she would
+certainly have heard the noise of a rough-and-tumble
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
+struggle such as Norman would have made when fighting for his life. But
+that single muffled cry was all that had been heard, and then probably
+the brooch had been pinned on the mouth to seal it for ever. Later the
+man had been slowly strangled, and in the sight of his horrified
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Sylvia received a severe shock after witnessing that awful sight,
+and was ill for some days. The faithful Deborah attended to her like a
+slave, and would allow no one, save the doctor, to enter the sick-room.
+Bart Tawsey, who had been summoned to Gwynne Street from his bed,
+remained in the empty shop and attended to any domestic duties which
+Miss Junk required to be performed. She made him cook viands for Sylvia
+and for herself, and, as he had been trained by her before, to act as an
+emergency cook, he did credit to her tuition. Also Bart ran messages,
+saw that the house was well locked and bolted at night, and slept on a
+hastily-improvised bed under the counter. Even Deborah's strong nerves
+were shaken by the horrors she had witnessed, and she insisted that Bart
+should remain to protect her and Sylvia. Bart was not over-strong, but
+he was wiry, and, moreover, had the courage of a cock sparrow, so while
+he was guarding the house Deborah had no fears, and could attend
+altogether to her sick mistress.</p>
+
+<p>One of the first people to call on Miss Norman was a dry, wizen monkey
+of a man, who announced himself as Jabez Pash, the solicitor of the
+deceased. He had, so he said, executed Aaron's legal business for years,
+and knew all his secrets. Yet, when questioned by the police, he could
+throw no light on the murder. But he knew of something strange connected
+with the matter, and this he related to the detective who was now in
+charge of the case.</p>
+
+<p>This officer was a chatty, agreeable, pleasant-faced man, with brown
+eyes, brown hair and brown skin.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
+Also, to match his face, no doubt, he wore brown clothes, brown boots, a
+brown hat and a brown tie&mdash;in fact, in body, face and hands and
+dress he was all brown, and this prevalent color produced rather a
+strange effect. "He must ha' bin dyed," said Miss Junk when she set eyes
+on him. "But brown is better nor black, Miss Sylvia, though black you'll
+have to wear for your poor par, as is gone to a better land, let us
+hope, though there's no knowing."</p>
+
+<p>The brown man, who answered to the name of Hurd, or, as he genially
+described himself, "Billy" Hurd, saw Mr. Pash, the lawyer, after he had
+examined everyone he could lay hold of in the hopes of learning
+something likely to elucidate the mystery. "What do you know of this
+matter, sir?" asked the brown man, pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>Pash screwed up his face in a manner worthy of his monkey looks. He
+would have been an absolute image of one with a few nuts in his cheek,
+and as he talked in a chattering sort of way, very fast and a trifle
+incoherent, the resemblance was complete. "I know nothing why my
+esteemed client should meet with such a death," he said, "but I may
+mention that on the evening of his death he called round to see me and
+deposited in my charge four bags of jewels. At least he said they were
+jewels, for the bags are sealed, and of course I never opened them."</p>
+
+<p>"Can I see those bags?" asked Hurd, amiably.</p>
+
+<p>The legal monkey hopped into the next room and beckoned Hurd to follow.
+Shortly the two were looking into the interior of a safe wherein reposed
+four bags of coarse white canvas sealed and tied with stout cords. "The
+odd thing is," said Mr. Pash, chewing his words, and looking so absurdly
+like a monkey that the detective felt inclined to call him "Jacko,"
+"that on the morning of the murder, and before I heard anything about
+it, a stranger came
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
+with a note from my esteemed client asking that the bags should be
+handed over."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of a man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Pash, fiddling with his sharp chin, "what you might call a
+seafaring man. A sailor, maybe, would be the best term. He was stout and
+red-faced, but with drink rather than with weather, I should think, and
+he rolled on his bow-legs in a somewhat nautical way."</p>
+
+<p>"What name did he give?" asked Hurd, writing this description rapidly in
+his note-book.</p>
+
+<p>"None. I asked him who he was, and he told me&mdash;with many oaths I regret
+to say&mdash;to mind my own business. He insisted on having the bags to take
+back to Mr. Norman, but I doubted him&mdash;oh, yes," added the lawyer,
+shrewdly, "I doubted him. Mr. Norman always did his own business, and
+never, in my experience of him, employed a deputy. I replied to the
+unknown nautical man&mdash;a sailor&mdash;as you might say; he certainly smelt of
+rum, which, as we know, is a nautical drink&mdash;well, Mr. Hurd, I replied
+that I would take the bags round to Mr. Norman myself and at once. This
+office is in Chancery Lane, as you see, and not far from Gwynne Street,
+so I started with the bags."</p>
+
+<p>"And with the nautical gentleman?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He said he would remain behind until I returned, so as to receive
+my apology when I had seen my esteemed client and become convinced of
+the nautical gentleman's rectitude. When I reached Gwynne Street I found
+that Mr. Norman was dead, and at once took the bags back to replace them
+in this safe, where you now behold them."</p>
+
+<p>"And this sailor?" asked Hurd, eyeing Mr. Pash keenly.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer sucked in his cheeks and put his feet on the rungs of his
+chair. "Oh, my clerk tells me
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+he left within five minutes of my departure, saying he could not wait."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen him since?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not seen him since. But I am glad that I saved the property of
+my client."</p>
+
+<p>"Was Norman rich?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well off indeed, but he did not make his money out of his
+book-selling business. In fact," said Pash, putting the tips of his
+fingers delicately together, "he was rather a good judge of jewels."</p>
+
+<p>"And a pawnbroker," interrupted Hurd, dryly. "I have heard all about
+that from Bart Tawsey, his shopman. Skip it and go on."</p>
+
+<p>"I can only go on so far as to say that Miss Norman will probably
+inherit a fortune of five thousand a year, beside the jewels contained
+in those bags. That is," said Mr. Pash, wisely, "if the jewels be not
+redeemed by those who pawned them."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a will?" asked Hurd, rising to take his leave.</p>
+
+<p>Pash screwed up his eyes and inflated his cheeks, and wriggled so much
+that the detective expected an acrobatic performance, and was
+disappointed when it did not come off. "I really can't be sure on that
+point," he said softly. "I have not yet examined the papers contained in
+the safe of my deceased and esteemed client. He would never allow me to
+make his will. Leases&mdash;yes&mdash;he has some
+house-property&mdash;mortgages&mdash;yes&mdash;investments&mdash;yes&mdash;he entrusted me with
+all his business save the important one of making a will. But a great
+many other people act in the same strange way, though you might not
+think so, Mr. Hurd. They would never make a lease, or let a house, or
+buy property, without consulting their legal adviser, yet in the case of
+wills (most important documents) many prefer to draw them up themselves.
+Consequently, there is much litigation over wrongly-drawn documents of
+that nature."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
+
+<p>"All the better for you lawyers. Well, I'm off to look for your nautical
+gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think he is guilty?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say," said Hurd, smiling, "and I never speak unless I am quite
+sure of the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be hard to come at, in this case," said the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>Billy the detective smiled pleasantly and shrugged his brown shoulders.
+"So hard that it may never be discovered," he said. "You know many
+mysteries are never solved. I suspect this Gwynne Street crime will be
+one of them."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd had learned a great deal about the opal brooch from Sylvia and
+Deborah, and what they told him resulted in his visiting the Charing
+Cross Hospital to see Paul Beecot. The young man was much worried. His
+arm was getting better, and the doctors assured him he would be able to
+leave the hospital in a few days. But he had received a letter from his
+mother, whom he had informed of his accident. She bewailed his danger,
+and wrote with many tears&mdash;as Paul saw from the blotted state of the
+letter&mdash;that her domestic tyrant would not allow her to come to London
+to see her wounded darling. This in itself was annoying enough, but Paul
+was still more irritated and excited by the report of Aaron's terrible
+death, which he saw in a newspaper. So much had this moved him that he
+was thrown into a high state of fever, and the doctor refused to allow
+him to read the papers. Luckily, Paul, for his own sake, had somewhat
+calmed down when Hurd arrived, so the detective was permitted to see
+him. He sat by the bedside and told the patient who he was. Beecot
+looked at him sharply, and then recognized him.</p>
+
+<p>"You are the workman," he said astonished.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Beecot, I am. I hear that you have not taken my warning
+regarding your friend, Mr. Grexon Hay."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Ah! Then you knew his name all the time!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I did. I merely spoke to you to set you on your guard against
+him. He'll do you no good."</p>
+
+<p>"But he was at school with me," said Beecot, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"That doesn't make him any the better companion," replied Hurd; "see
+here, Mr. Beecot, we can talk of this matter another time. At present,
+as I am allowed to converse with you only for a short time, I wish to
+ask you about the opal serpent."</p>
+
+<p>Paul sat up, although Hurd tried to keep him down. "What do you know of
+that?&mdash;why do you come to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know very little and want to know more. As I told you, my name is
+Billy Hurd, and, as I did <i>not</i> tell you, I am the detective whom the
+Treasury has placed in charge of this case."</p>
+
+<p>"Norman's murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! Have you read the papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"A few, but not enough. The doctors took them from me and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Gently, Mr. Beecot. Let us talk as little as possible. Where did you
+get that brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you want to know? You don't suspect me, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>Hurd laughed. "No. You have been in this ward all the time. But as the
+brooch was used cruelly to seal the dead man's mouth, it seems to me,
+and to Inspector Prince, that the whole secret of the murder lies in
+tracing it to its original possessor. Now tell me all about it," said
+Billy, and spread out his note-book.</p>
+
+<p>"I will if you'll tell me about Miss Norman. I'm engaged to marry her
+and I hear she is ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she is much better," said Hurd, pausing pencil in hand, "don't
+distress yourself. That young lady is all right; and when you marry her
+you'll marry an
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
+heiress, as I learn from the lawyer who does the business of the
+deceased."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care about her being the heiress. Will you take a message to
+her from me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. What is it?" Hurd spoke quite sympathetically, for even
+though he was a detective he was a human being with a kindly heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her how sorry I am, and that I'll come and see her as soon as I
+can leave this confounded hospital. Thanks for your kindness, Mr. Hurd.
+Now, what do you wish to know? Oh, yes&mdash;about the opal serpent, which,
+as you say, and as I think, seems to be at the bottom of all the
+trouble. Listen," and Paul detailed all he knew, taking the story up to
+the time of his accident.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd listened attentively. "Oh," said he, with a world of meaning, "so
+Mr. Grexon Hay was with you? Hum! Do you suppose he pushed you into the
+road on purpose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Paul, staring, "I'm sure he didn't. What had he to gain by
+acting in such a way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Money, you may be sure," said Hurd. "That gentleman never does anything
+without the hope of a substantial reward. Hush! We'll talk of this when
+you're better, Mr. Beecot. You say the brooch was lost."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It must have slipped out of my pocket when I fell under the wheels
+of that machine. I believe there were a number of loafers and ragged
+creatures about, so it is just possible I may hear it has been picked
+up. I've sent an advertisement to the papers."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shook his head. "You won't hear," he said. "How can you expect to
+when you know the brooch was used to seal the dead man's lips?"</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot that," said Paul, faintly. "My memory&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is not so good as it was." Hurd rose. "I'll go, as I see you are
+exhausted. Good-bye."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Wait! You'll keep me advised of how the case goes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, if the doctors will allow me to. Good-bye," and Hurd went
+away very well satisfied with the information he had obtained.</p>
+
+<p>The clue, as he thought it was, led him to Wargrove, where he obtained
+useful information from Mr. Beecot, who gave it with a very bad grace,
+and offered remarks about his son's being mixed up in the case, which
+made Hurd, who had taken a fancy to the young fellow, protest. From
+Wargrove, Hurd went to Stowley, in Buckinghamshire, and interviewed the
+pawnbroker whose assistant had wrongfully sold the brooch to Beecot many
+years before. There he learned a fact which sent him back to Mr. Jabez
+Pash in London.</p>
+
+<p>"I says, sir," said Hurd, when again in the lawyer's private room, "that
+nautical gentleman of yours pawned that opal serpent twenty years ago
+more or less."</p>
+
+<p>"Never," said the monkey, screwing up his face and chewing.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed. The pawnbroker is an old man, but he remembers the
+customer quite well, and his description, allowing for the time that has
+elapsed, answers to the man who tried to get the jewels from you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pash chewed meditatively, and then inflated his cheeks. "Pooh," he
+said, "twenty years is a long time. A man then, and a man now, would be
+quite different."</p>
+
+<p>"Some people never change," said Hurd, quietly. "You have not changed
+much, I suspect."</p>
+
+<p>"No," cackled the lawyer, rather amused. "I grew old young, and have
+never altered my looks."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this nautical gentleman may be the same. He pawned the article
+under the name of David Green&mdash;a feigned one, I suspect."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Then you think he is guilty?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have to prove that the brooch came into his possession again before I
+can do that," said Hurd, grimly. "And, as the brooch was lost in the
+street by Mr. Beecot, I don't see what I can do. However, it is strange
+that a man connected with the pawning of the brooch so many years ago
+should suddenly start up again when the brooch is used in connection
+with a terrible crime."</p>
+
+<p>"It is strange. I congratulate you on having this case, Mr. Hurd. It is
+an interesting one to look into."</p>
+
+<p>"And a mighty difficult one," said Hurd, rather depressed. "I really
+don't see my way. I have got together all the evidence I can, but I fear
+the verdict at the inquest will be wilful murder against some person or
+persons unknown."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd, who was not blind to his own limitations like some detectives,
+proved to be a true prophet. The inquest was attended by a crowd of
+people, who might as well have stayed away for all they learned
+concerning the identity of the assassin. It was proved by the evidence
+of Sylvia and Deborah how the murder had taken place, but it was
+impossible to show who had strangled the man. It was presumed that the
+assassin or assassins had escaped when Deborah went upstairs to shout
+murder out of the first-floor window. By that time the policeman on the
+Gwynne Street beat was not in sight, and it would have been easy for
+those concerned in the crime&mdash;if more than one&mdash;to escape by the cellar
+door, through the passage and up the street to mingle with the people in
+the Strand, which, even at that late hour, would not be deserted. Or
+else the assassin or assassins might have got into Drury Lane and have
+proceeded towards Oxford Street. But in whatever direction they went,
+none of the numerous policemen around the neighborhood on that fatal
+night had
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
+"spotted" any suspicious persons. It was generally assumed, from the
+peculiar circumstances of the crime, that more than one person was
+inculpated, and these had come out of the night, had committed the cruel
+deed, and then had vanished into the night, leaving no trace behind. The
+appearance of the fellow whom Mr. Pash called the nautical gentleman
+certainly was strange, and led many people to believe that robbery was
+the motive for the commission of the crime. "This man, who was powerful
+and could easily have overpowered a little creature like Norman, came to
+rob," said these wiseacres. "Finding that the jewels were gone, and
+probably from a memorandum finding that they were in the possession of
+the lawyer, he attempted the next morning to get them&mdash;" and so on.
+But against this was placed by other people the cruel circumstances of
+the crime. No mere robbery would justify the brooch being used to pin
+the dead man's lips together. Then, again, the man being strangled
+before his daughter's eyes was a refinement of cruelty which removed the
+case from a mere desire on the part of the murdered to get money.
+Finally, one man, as the police thought, could not have carried out the
+abominable details alone.</p>
+
+<p>So after questions had been asked and evidence obtained, and details
+shifted, and theories raised, and pros and cons discussed, the jury was
+obliged to bring in the verdict predicted by Mr. Hurd. "Wilful murder
+against some person or persons unknown," said the jury, and everyone
+agreed that this was the only conclusion that could be arrived at.</p>
+
+<p>Of course the papers took up the matter and asked what the police were
+doing to permit so brutal a murder to take place in a crowded
+neighborhood and in the metropolis of the world. "What was civilisation
+coming to and&mdash;" etc., etc. All the same the public was satisfied that
+the police and jury
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>
+had done their duty. So the inquest was held, the verdict was given, and
+then the remains of Aaron Norman were committed to the grave; and from
+the journals everyone knew that the daughter left behind was a great
+heiress. "A million of money," said the Press, and lied as usual.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">CASTLES IN THE AIR</p>
+
+
+<p>So Aaron Norman, the second-hand bookseller of Gwynne Street, was dead
+and buried, and, it may be said, forgotten. Sylvia and those connected
+with her remembered the old man and his unhappy end, but the public
+managed to forget all about the matter in a wonderfully short space of
+time. Other events took place, which interested the readers of the
+newspapers more, and few recalled the strange Gwynne Street crime. Many
+people, when they did think, said that the assassins would never be
+discovered, but in this they were wrong. If money could hunt down the
+person or persons who had so cruelly murdered Aaron Norman, his daughter
+and heiress was determined that money could not be better spent. And
+Billy Hurd, knowing all about the case and taking a profound interest in
+it by reason of the mystery which environed it, was selected to follow
+up what clues there were.</p>
+
+<p>But while London was still seething with the tragedy and strangeness of
+the crime, Mr. Jabez Pash came to the heterogeneously-furnished
+sitting-room in Gwynne Street to read the will. For there was a will
+after all. Deborah, and Bart, who had witnessed it at the request of
+their master, told Mr. Pash of its existence, and he found it in one of
+the three safes in the cellar. It proved to be a short, curt document,
+such as no man in his senses would think of making when disposing of
+five thousand a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+year. Aaron was a clever business man, and Pash was professionally
+disgusted that he had left behind him such a loose testament.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't he come to me and have it properly drawn up?" he asked as he
+stood in the cellar before the open safe with the scrap of paper in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>Deborah, standing near, with her hands on her haunches, laughed
+heartily. "I think master believed he's spent enough money with you,
+sir. Lor' bless you, Mr. Pash, so long as the will's tight and fair what
+do it matter? Don't tell me as there's anything wrong and that my pretty
+won't come into her forting?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the will's right enough," said Pash, screwing up his cheeks; "let
+us go up to the sitting-room. Is Miss Sylvia there?"</p>
+
+<p>"That she are, sir, and a-getting back her pretty color with Mr. Paul."</p>
+
+<p>Pash looked suspiciously at the handmaiden. "Who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody to be spoke of in that lump of dirt way," retorted Deborah.
+"He's a gentleman who's going to marry my pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the one who had the accident! I met him, but forgot his name."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Junk nodded vigorously. "And a mercy it was that he wasn't smashed
+to splinters, with spiled looks and half his limbses orf," she said.
+"Why, bless you, Mr. Pash, could I let my sunbeam marry a man as wasn't
+all there, 'eart of gold though he may have? But the blessing of
+Providence kept him together," shouted Deborah in a burst of gratitude,
+"and there he sits upstairs with arms to put about my lily-queen for the
+drying of her dear eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pash was not at all pleased at this news and rubbed his nose hard.
+"If a proper will had only been made," he said aggressively, "a proper
+guardian
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+might have been appointed, and this young lady would not have been
+permitted to throw herself away."</p>
+
+<p>"Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash," said Deborah, in an offended tone,
+"but this marriage is of my making, to say nothing of Heaven, which
+brought him and my pretty together. Mr. Beecot ain't got money, but his
+looks is takin', and his 'eart is all that an angel can want. My
+pretty's chice," added the maiden, shaking an admonitory finger, "and my
+pretty's happiness, so don't you go a-spilin' of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to say, save to regret that a young lady in possession
+of five thousand a year should make a hasty contract like this," said
+Mr. Pash, dryly, and hopping up the cellar stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't hasty," cried Deborah, following and talking all the time;
+"six months have them dears billed and cooed lovely, and if my queen
+wants to buy a husband, why not? Just you go up and read the will proper
+and without castin' cold water on my beauty's warm 'eart, or trouble
+will come of your talkin'. I'm mild," said Deborah, chasing the little
+lawyer up the stairs leading to the first floor, "mild as flat beer if
+not roused: but if you make me red, my 'and flies like a windmill,
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jabez Pash heard no more. He stopped his legal ears and fled into
+the sitting-room, where he found the lovers seated on a sofa near the
+window. Sylvia was in Paul's embrace, and her head was on his shoulder.
+Beecot had his arm in a sling, and looked pale, but his eyes were as
+bright as ever, and his face shone with happiness. Sylvia also looked
+happy. To know that she was rich, that Paul was to be her husband,
+filled the cup of her desires to the brim. Moreover, she was beginning
+to recover from the shock of her father's death, and was feverishly
+anxious to escape from Gwynne Street, and from the house where the
+tragedy had taken place.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mr. Pash, drawing a long breath and sucking in his cheeks,
+"you lose no time, young gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>Paul laughed, but did not change his position. Sylvia indeed blushed and
+raised her head, but Paul still held her with his uninjured arm, defying
+Mr. Pash and all the world. "I am gathering rosebuds while I may, Mr.
+Pash," said he, misquoting Herrick's charming line.</p>
+
+<p>"You have plucked a very pretty one," grinned the monkey; "but may I
+request the rosebud's attention?"</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia extricated herself from her lover's arm with a heightened color,
+and nodded gravely. Seeing it was business, she had to descend from
+heaven to earth, but she secretly hoped that this dull little lawyer,
+who was a bachelor and had never loved in his dry little life, would
+soon go away and leave her alone with Prince Charming. Deborah guessed
+these thoughts with the instinct of fidelity, and swooped down on her
+young mistress.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the will, poppet," she whispered loudly, "but if it do make your
+dear head ache Mr. Beecot will listen."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish Mr. Beecot to listen in any case," said Pash, dryly, "if he is
+to marry my young and esteemed client."</p>
+
+<p>"We are engaged with the consent of my poor father," said Sylvia, taking
+Paul's hand. "I shall marry no one but Paul."</p>
+
+<p>"And Paul will marry an angel," said that young man, with a tender
+squeeze, "although he can't keep her in bread-and-butter."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think there will be plenty of bread-and-butter," said the lawyer.
+"Miss Norman, we have found the will if," added Mr. Pash, disdainfully,
+"this," he held out the document with a look of contempt, "can be called
+a will."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, isn't it?" asked Sylvia, anxiously.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I mean the form and the writing and the paper, young lady. It is a good
+will in law, and duly signed and witnessed."</p>
+
+<p>"Me and Bart having written our names, lovey," put in Deborah.</p>
+
+<p>Pash frowned her into silence. "The will," he said, looking at the
+writing, "consists of a few lines. It leaves all the property of the
+testator to 'my daughter.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Your daughter!" screamed Deborah. "Why, you ain't married."</p>
+
+<p>"I am reading from the will," snapped Pash, coloring, and read again: "I
+leave all the real and personal property of which I may die possessed of
+to my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Sylvia Norman!" cried Deborah, hugging her darling.</p>
+
+<p>"There you are wrong," corrected Pash, folding up the so-called will,
+"the name of Sylvia isn't mentioned."</p>
+
+<p>"Does that make any difference?" asked Paul, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Miss Norman is an only daughter, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"And an only child," said Deborah, "so that's all right. My pretty, you
+will have them jewels and five thousand a year."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Paul, what a lot of money!" cried Sylvia, appalled. "Whatever will
+we do with it all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, marry and be happy, of course," said Paul, rejoicing not so much
+on account of the money, although that was acceptable, but because this
+delightful girl was all his very&mdash;very own.</p>
+
+<p>"The question is," said Mr. Pash, who had been reflecting, and now
+reproduced the will from his pocket, "as to the name?"</p>
+
+<p>"What name?" asked Sylvia, and Deborah echoed the question.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Your name." Pash addressed the girl direct. "Your father's real name
+was Krill&mdash;Lemuel Krill."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia looked amazed, Deborah uttered her usual ejaculation, "Lor'!" but
+Paul's expression did not change. He considered that this was all of a
+piece with the murder and the mystery of the opal brooch. Undoubtedly
+Mr. Lemuel Krill, <i>alias</i> Aaron Norman, must have had good reason to
+change his name and to exhibit terror at the sight of the brooch. And
+the reason he dreaded, whatever it might be, had been the cause of his
+mysterious and tragic death. But Paul said nothing of these thoughts and
+there was silence for a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"Lor,'" said Deborah again, "and I never knew. Do he put that name to
+that, mister?" she asked, pointing to the will.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! It is signed Lemuel Krill," said Pash. "I wonder you didn't notice
+it at the moment."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, bless you, Mr. Pash, there weren't no moment," said Deborah, her
+hands on her hips as usual. "Master made that there will only a short
+time before he was killed."</p>
+
+<p>Pash nodded. "I note the date," said he, "all in order&mdash;quite."</p>
+
+<p>"Master," went on Deborah, looking at Paul, "never got over that there
+fainting fit you gave him with the serping brooch. And he writes out
+that will, and tells Bart and me to put our names to it. But he covered
+up his own name with a bit of red blotting-paper. I never thought but
+that he hadn't put Aaron Norman, which was his name."</p>
+
+<p>"It was not his name," said Pash. "His real name I have told you, and
+for years I have known the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know why he changed his name?" asked Beecot, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I don't. And if I did, I don't know if it
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
+would be legal etiquette to reveal the reason to a stranger."</p>
+
+<p>"He's not a stranger," cried Sylvia, annoyed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, to a young gentleman whom I have only seen twice. Why do
+you ask, Mr. Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was wondering if the change of name had anything to do with the
+murder," said Paul, hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>"How could it," said Pash, testily, "when the man never expected to be
+murdered?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash, but you're all out," said Deborah.
+"Master did expect to have his throat cut, or his 'ead knocked orf, or
+his inside removed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Deborah," cried Paul, hastily, "you are making Sylvia nervous."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worrit, pretty," said the maiden, "it's only silly old
+Debby's way. But master, your par as was, my pretty, went to church and
+prayed awful against folk as he never named, to say nothin' of lookin'
+over the left shoulder blade and sleepin' in the cellar bolted and
+barred, and always with his eye on the ground sad like. Old Baileys and
+police-courts was in his mind, say what you like."</p>
+
+<p>"I say nothing," rejoined Pash, putting on his hat and hopping to the
+door. "Mr. Lemuel Krill did not honor me with his confidence so far. He
+came here, over twenty years ago and began business. I was then younger
+than I am, and he gave me his business because my charges were moderate.
+I know all about him as Aaron Norman," added Pash, with emphasis, "but
+as Lemuel Krill I, knowing nothing but the name, can say nothing. Nor do
+I want to. Young people," ended the lawyer, impressively, "let sleeping
+dogs lie."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" asked Sylvia, looking startled.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing&mdash;he means nothing," interposed Paul hastily, for the girl had
+undergone quite enough torments. "What about the change of name?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Ah yes!" said the lawyer, inquiringly. "Will you call yourself Krill or
+Norman, Miss Sylvia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seein' her name's to be changed to Beecot in a jiffy," cried Deborah,
+"it don't matter, and it sha'n't matter. You leave Krill and its old
+Baileys, if old Baileys there are in it, alone, my lovey, and be Miss
+Norman till the passon and the clark, and the bells and the ringers, and
+the lawr and the prophets turn you into the loveliest bride as ever
+was," and Deborah nodded vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish father had mentioned my name in his will," said Sylvia, in a low
+voice, "and then I should know what to call myself."</p>
+
+<p>Paul addressed the lawyer. "I know little about the legal aspect of this
+will"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"This amateur will," said Pash, slightingly.</p>
+
+<p>"But I should like to know if there will be any difficulty in proving
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so. I have not gone through all the safes below, and may
+come across the marriage certificate of Miss Krill's&mdash;I beg pardon, Miss
+Norman's&mdash;mother and father. Then there's the birth certificate. We must
+prove that Miss Sylvia is the daughter of my late esteemed client."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" shouted Deborah. "Why, I knowed her mother as died. She's
+the daughter right enough, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no need to shout," chattered Pash, angrily. "I know that as
+well as you do; I must act, however, as reason dictates. I'll prove the
+will and see that all is right." Then, dreading Deborah's tongue he
+hastily added "Good-day," and left the room. But he was not to escape so
+easily. Deborah plunged after him and made scathing remarks about legal
+manners all the way down to the door.</p>
+
+<p>Paul and Sylvia left alone looked and smiled and fell into one another's
+arms. The will had been read and the money left to the girl, thereby the
+future was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
+all right, so they thought that Pash's visit demanded no further
+attention. "He'll do all that is to be done," said Paul. "I don't see
+the use of keeping a dog and having to bark yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm really a rich woman, Paul," said Sylvia, gladly.</p>
+
+<p>"Really and truly, as I am a pauper. I think perhaps," said Beecot,
+sadly, "that you might make a better match than&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia put her pretty hand over his moustache. "I won't hear it, Paul,"
+she cried vehemently, with a stamp of her foot. "How dare you? As if you
+weren't all I have to love in the world now poor father&mdash;is&mdash;is de-a-d,"
+and she began to weep. "I did not love him as I ought to have done,
+Paul."</p>
+
+<p>"My own, he would not let you love him very much."</p>
+
+<p>"N-o-o," said Sylvia, drying her eyes on Paul's handkerchief, which he
+produced. "I don't know why. Sometimes he was nice, and sometimes he
+wasn't. I never could understand him, and you know, Paul, we didn't
+treat him nicely."</p>
+
+<p>"No," admitted Beecot, frankly, "but he forgave us."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, poor dear, he did! He was quite nice when he said we could
+marry and he would allow us money. You saw him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did. He came to the hospital. Didn't he tell you when he returned,
+Sylvia?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw him," she wept. "He never came upstairs, but went out, and
+I went to bed. He left the door leading to the stairs open, too, on that
+night, a thing he never did before. And then the key of the shop. Bart
+used to hang it on a nail in the cellar and father would put it into his
+pocket after supper. Deborah couldn't find it in his clothes, and when
+she went afterwards to the cellar it was on the nail. On that night,
+Paul, father did everything different to what he usually did."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
+
+<p>"He seems to have had some mental trouble," said Paul, gently, "and I
+believe it was connected with that brooch. When he spoke to me at the
+hospital he said he would let you marry me, and would allow us an
+income, if I gave him the serpent brooch to take to America."</p>
+
+<p>"But why did he want the brooch?" asked Sylvia, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Beecot, with great significance, "if we could find out his
+reason we would learn who killed him and why he was killed."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia wept afresh on this reference to the tragedy which was yet fresh
+in her memory: but as weeping would not bring back the dead, and Paul
+was much distressed at the sight of her tears, she dried her eyes for
+the hundredth time within the last few days and sat again on the sofa by
+her lover. There they built castles in the air.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what, Sylvia," said Paul, reflectively; "after this will
+business is settled and a few weeks have elapsed, we can marry."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Paul, not for a year! Think of poor father's memory."</p>
+
+<p>"I do think of it, my darling, and I believe I am saying what your
+father himself would have said. The circumstances of the case are
+strange, as you are left with a lot of money and without a protector.
+You know I love you for yourself, and would take you without a penny,
+but unless we marry soon, and you give me a husband's right, you will be
+pestered by people wanting to marry you." Paul thought of Grexon Hay
+when he made this last remark.</p>
+
+<p>"But I wouldn't listen to them," cried Sylvia, with a flush, "and Debby
+would soon send them away. I love you dearest, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Then marry me next month," said Paul, promptly. "You can't stop here in
+this dull house, and it will be awkward for you to go about with
+Deborah, faithful
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
+though she is. No, darling, let us marry, and then we shall go abroad
+for a year or two until all this sad business is forgotten. Then I hope
+by that time to become reconciled to my father, and we can visit
+Wargrove."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia reflected. She saw that Paul was right, as her position was
+really very difficult. She knew of no lady who would chaperon her, and
+she had no relative to act as such. Certainly Deborah could be a
+chaperon, but she was not a lady, and Pash could be a guardian, but he
+was not a relative. Paul as her husband would be able to protect her,
+and to look after the property which Sylvia did not think she could do
+herself. These thoughts made her consent to an early marriage. "And I
+really don't think father would have minded."</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite sure we are acting as he would wish," said Beecot,
+decisively. "I am so thankful, Sylvia sweetest, that I met you and loved
+you before you became an heiress. No one can say that I marry you for
+anything save your own sweet self. And I am doubly glad that I am to
+marry you and save you from all the disagreeable things which might have
+occurred had you not been engaged to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I know, Paul. I am so young and inexperienced."</p>
+
+<p>"You are an angel," said he, embracing her. "But there's one thing we
+must do"&mdash;and his voice became graver&mdash;"we must see Pash and offer a
+reward for the discovery of the person who killed your father."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mr. Pash said let sleeping dogs lie," objected Sylvia.</p>
+
+<p>"I know he did, but out of natural affection, little as your poor father
+loved you, we must stir up this particular dog. I suggest that we offer
+a reward of five hundred pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"To whom?" asked Sylvia, thoroughly agreeing.</p>
+
+<p>"To anyone who can find the murderer. I think
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
+myself, that Hurd will be the man to gain the money. Apart from any
+reward he has to act on behalf of the Treasury, and besides, he is keen
+to discover the mystery. You leave the matter to me, Sylvia. We will
+offer a reward for the discovery of the murderer of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aaron Norman," said Sylvia, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied her lover, gravely, "of Lemuel Krill."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">A BOLT FROM THE BLUE</p>
+
+
+<p>Paul's reason for advertising the name of Lemuel Krill was a very
+natural one. He believed that in the past of the dead man was to be
+found his reason for changing his name and living in Gwynne Street. And
+in that past before he became a second-hand bookseller and a secret
+pawnbroker might be found the motive for the crime. Therefore, if a
+reward was offered for the discovery of the murderer of Lemuel Krill,
+<i>alias</i> Aaron Norman, something might come to light relative to the
+man's early life. Once that was known, the clue might be obtained. Then
+the truth would surely be discovered. He explained this to Hurd.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're right, Mr. Beecot," said the detective, in his genial
+way, and looking as brown as a coffee bean. "I have made inquiries from
+the two servants, and from the neighbors, and from what customers I
+could find. Aaron Norman certainly lived a very quiet and respectable
+life here. But Lemuel Krill may have lived a very different one, and the
+mere fact that he changed his name shows that he had something to
+conceal. When we learn that something we may arrive at the motive for
+the murder, and, given that, the assassin may be caught."</p>
+
+<p>"The assassin!" echoed Paul. "Then you think there was only one."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows?" he said. "I speak generally.
+From the strange circumstances
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
+of the crime I am inclined to think that there is more than one person
+concerned in this matter. However, the best thing to be done is to have
+hand-bills printed offering the five hundred pounds reward. People will
+do a lot to earn so much money, and someone may come forward with
+details about Mr. Krill which will solve the mystery of Norman's death."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will gain the reward yourself, Hurd."</p>
+
+<p>The detective nodded. "I hope so too. I have lately married the sweetest
+little wife in the world, and I want to keep her in the way she has been
+accustomed to be kept. She married beneath her, as I'm only a
+thief-catcher, and no very famous one either."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you solve this mystery it will do you a lot of good."</p>
+
+<p>"That it will," agreed Billy, heartily, "and it will mean advancement
+and extra screw: besides the reward if I can get it. You may be very
+sure, Mr. Beecot, that I'll do my best. Oh, by the way," he added, "have
+you heard that Mr. Pash is being asked for many of those jewels?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Who are asking for them? Not that nautical man?"</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shook his head. "He's not such a fool," said he. "No! But the
+people who pledged the jewels are getting them back&mdash;redeeming them, in
+fact. Pash is doing all the business thoroughly well, and will keep what
+jewels remain for the time allowed by law, so that all those who wish to
+redeem them can do so. If not, they can be sold, and that will mean more
+money to Miss Norman&mdash;by the way, I presume she intends to remain Miss
+Norman."</p>
+
+<p>"Until I make her Mrs. Beecot," said Paul, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Hurd, very heartily, "I trust you will both be happy. I
+think Miss Norman will get a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
+good husband in you, and you will gain the sweetest wife in the world
+bar one."</p>
+
+<p>"Everyone thinks his own crow the whitest," laughed Beecot. "But now
+that business is ended and you know what you are to do, will you tell me
+plainly why you warned me against Grexon Hay?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hum," said the detective, looking at Paul with keen eyes, "what do you
+know about him, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Beecot detailed his early friendship with Hay at Torrington, and then
+related the meeting in Oxford Street. "And so far as I have seen," added
+Paul, justly, "there's nothing about the man to make me think he is a
+bad lot."</p>
+
+<p>"It is natural you should think well of him as you know no wrong, Mr.
+Beecot. All the same, Grexon Hay is a man on the market."</p>
+
+<p>"You made use of that expression before. What does it mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ask Mr. Hay. He can explain best."</p>
+
+<p>"I did ask him, and he said it meant a man who was on the marriage
+market."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd laughed. "Very ingenious and untrue."</p>
+
+<p>"Untrue!"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Mr. Hay knows better than that. If that were all he wouldn't
+think a working man would warn anyone against him."</p>
+
+<p>"He guessed you were not a working man," said Paul, "and intimated that
+he had a <i>liaison</i> with a married woman, and that the husband had set
+you to watch."</p>
+
+<p>"Wrong again. My interest in Mr. Hay doesn't spring from divorce
+proceedings. He paints himself blacker than he is in that respect, Mr.
+Beecot. My gentleman is too selfish to love, and too cautious to commit
+himself to a divorce case where there would be a chance of damages. No!
+He's simply a man on the market, and what that is no one knows better
+than he does."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Well, I am ignorant."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall be enlightened, sir, and I hope what I tell you will lead you
+to drop this gentleman's acquaintance, especially now that you will be a
+rich man through your promised wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Norman's money is her own," said Paul, with a quick flush. "I
+don't propose to live on what she inherits."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not, because you are an honorable man. But I'll lay anything
+you like that Mr. Hay won't have your scruples, and as soon as he finds
+your wife is rich he'll try and get money from her through you."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll fail then," rejoined Beecot, calmly. "I am not up to your London
+ways, perhaps, but I am not quite such a fool. Perhaps you will
+enlighten me as you say."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd nodded and caught his smooth chin with his finger and thumb. "A man
+on the market," he explained slowly, "is a social highwayman."</p>
+
+<p>"I am still in the dark, Hurd."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, to be more particular, Hay is one of those well-dressed
+blackguards who live on mugs. He has no money&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, he told me himself that his uncle had left him a
+thousand a year."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh, he might as well have doubled the sum and increased the value of
+the lie. He hasn't a penny. What he did have, he got through pretty
+quickly in order to buy his experience. Now that he is hard up he
+practises on others what was practised on himself. Hay is well-bred,
+good-looking, well-dressed and plausible. He has well-furnished rooms
+and keeps a valet. He goes into rather shady society, as decent people,
+having found him out, won't have anything to do with him. But he is a
+card-sharper and a fraudulent company-promoter. He'll borrow money from
+any juggins who is ass
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
+enough to lend it to him. He haunts Piccadilly, Bond Street and the
+Burlington Arcade, and is always smart, and bland, and fascinating. If
+he sees a likely victim he makes his acquaintance in a hundred ways, and
+then proceeds to fleece him. In a word, Mr. Beecot, you may put it that
+Mr. Hay is Captain Hawk, and those he swindles are pigeons."</p>
+
+<p>Paul was quite startled by this revelation, and it was painful to hear
+it of an old school friend. "He does not look like a man of that sort,"
+he remonstrated.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not his business to look like a man of that sort," rejoined the
+detective. "He masks his batteries. All the same he is one of the most
+dangerous men on the market at the present in town. A young peer whom he
+plucked two years ago lost everything to him, and got into trouble over
+some woman. It was a nasty case and Hay was mixed up in it. The
+relatives of the victim&mdash;I needn't give his title&mdash;asked me to put
+things right. I got the young nobleman away, and he is now travelling to
+acquire the sense he so sadly needed. I have given Mr. Hay a warning
+once or twice, and he knows that he is being watched by us. When he
+slips, as he is bound to do, sooner or later, then he'll have to deal
+with me. Oh I know how he hunts for clients in fashionable hotels, smart
+restaurants, theatres and such-like places. He is clever, and although
+he has fleeced several lambs since he plucked the pigeon I saved, he
+has, as yet, been too clever to be caught. When I saw you with him, Mr.
+Beecot, I thought it just as well to put you on your guard."</p>
+
+<p>"I fear he'll get little out of me," said Paul. "I am too poor."</p>
+
+<p>"You are rich now through your promised wife, and Hay will find it out."</p>
+
+<p>"I repeat that Miss Norman's money has nothing
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
+to do with me. And I may mention that as soon as the case is in your
+hands, Mr. Hurd&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Which it is now," interpolated the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"I intend to marry Miss Norman and then we will travel for a time."</p>
+
+<p>"That's very wise of you. Give Hay a wide berth. Of course, if you meet
+him, you needn't tell him what I have told you. But when he tries to
+come Captain Hawk over you, be on your guard."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall, and thanks for the warning."</p>
+
+<p>So the two parted. Hurd went away to have the bills printed, and Paul
+returned to Gwynne Street to arrange with Sylvia about their early
+marriage. Deborah was in the seventh heaven of delight that her young
+mistress would soon be in a safe haven and enjoy the protection of an
+honorable man. Knowing that she would soon be relieved from care, she
+told Bart Tawsey that they would be married at the same time as the
+young couple, and that the laundry would be started as soon as Mr. and
+Mrs. Beecot left for the Continent. Bart, of course, agreed&mdash;he always
+did agree with Deborah&mdash;and so everything was nicely arranged.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Pash worked to prove the will, pay the death-duties, and to
+place Sylvia in full possession of her property. He found in one of the
+safes the certificate of the girl's birth, and also the marriage
+certificate of Aaron Norman in the name of Lemuel Krill. The man
+evidently had his doubts of the marriage being a legal one if contracted
+under his <i>alias</i>. He had married Lillian Garner, who was described as a
+spinster. But who she was and where she came from, and what her position
+in life might be could not be discovered. Krill was married in a quiet
+city church, and Pash, having searched, found everything in order. Mrs.
+Krill&mdash;or Norman as she was known&mdash;lived only a year or two after her
+marriage, and then died, leaving Sylvia to the care of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
+her husband. There were several nurses in succession, until Deborah grew
+old enough to attend alone on her young mistress. Then Norman dismissed
+the nurse, and Deborah had been Sylvia's slave and Aaron's servant until
+the tragic hour of his death. So, everything being in order, there was
+no difficulty in placing Sylvia in possession of her property.</p>
+
+<p>Pash was engaged in this congenial work for several weeks, and during
+that time all went smoothly. Paul paid daily visits to the Gwynne Street
+house, which was to be vacated as soon as he made Sylvia his wife.
+Deborah searched for her laundry and obtained the premises she wanted at
+a moderate rental. Sylvia basked in the sunshine of her future husband's
+love, and Hurd hunted for the assassin of the late Mr. Norman without
+success. The hand-bills with his portrait and real name, and a
+description of the circumstances of his death, were scattered broadcast
+over the country from Land's End to John-O'Groats, but hitherto no one
+had applied for the reward. The name of Krill seemed to be a rare one,
+and the dead man apparently had no relatives, for no one took the
+slightest interest in the bills beyond envying the lucky person who
+would gain the large reward offered for the conviction of the murderer.</p>
+
+<p>Then, one day Deborah, while cleaning out the cellar, found a piece of
+paper which had slipped down behind one of the safes. These had not been
+removed for many years, and the paper, apparently placed carelessly on
+top, had accidentally dropped behind. Deborah, always thinking something
+might reveal the past to Sylvia and afford a clue to the assassin,
+brought the paper to her mistress. It proved to be a few lines of a
+letter, commenced but never finished. But the few lines were of deep
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear daughter," these ran, "when I die you
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
+will find that I married your mother under the name of Lemuel Krill.
+That is my real name, but I wish you to continue to call yourself Norman
+for necessary reasons. If the name of Krill gets into the papers there
+will be great trouble. Keep it from the public. I can tell you where to
+find the reasons for this as I have written&mdash;" Here the letter
+ended abruptly without any signature. Norman apparently was writing it
+when interrupted, and had placed it unfinished on the top of the safe,
+whence it had fallen behind to be discovered by Deborah. And now it had
+strangely come to light, but too late for the request to be carried out.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Paul," said Sylvia, in dismay, when they read this together, "and
+the bills are already published with the real name of my father."</p>
+
+<p>"It is unfortunate," admitted Paul, frowning. "But, after all, your
+father may have been troubled unnecessarily. For over the fortnight the
+bills have been out and no one seems to take an interest in the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"But I think we ought to call the bills in," said Sylvia, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"That's not such an easy matter. They are scattered broadcast, and it
+will be next to impossible to collect them. Besides, the mischief is
+done. Everyone knows by this time that Aaron Norman is Lemuel Krill, so
+the trouble whatever it may be, must come."</p>
+
+<p>"What can it be?" asked the girl anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>Paul shook his head. "Heaven only knows," said he, with a heavy heart.
+"There is certainly something in your father's past life which he did
+not wish known and which led to his death. But since the blow has fallen
+and he is gone, I do not see how the matter can affect you, my darling.
+I'll show this to Pash and see what he says. I expect he knows more
+about your father's past than he will admit."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
+
+<p>"But if there should be trouble, Paul&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You will have me to take it off your shoulders," he replied, kissing
+her. "My dearest, do not look so pale. Whatever may happen you will
+always have me to stand by you. And Deborah also. She is worth a
+regiment in her fidelity."</p>
+
+<p>So Sylvia was comforted, and Paul, putting the unfinished letter in his
+pocket, went round to see Pash in his Chancery Lane office. He was
+stopped in the outer room by a saucy urchin with an impudent face and a
+bold manner. "Mr. Pash is engaged," said this official, "so you'll 'ave
+to wait, Mr. Beecot."</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked down at the brat, who was curly-headed and as sharp as a
+needle. "How do you know my name?" he asked. "I never saw you before."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm the new office-boy," said the urchin, "wishin' to be respectable
+and leave street-'awking, which ain't what it was. M'name's Tray, an'
+I've seen you afore, mister. I 'elped to pull you out from them wheels
+with the 'aughty gent as guv me a bob fur doin' it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, so you helped," said Paul, smiling. "Well, here is another
+shilling. I am much obliged to you, Master Tray. But from what Deborah
+Junk says you were a guttersnipe. How did you get this post?"</p>
+
+<p>"I talked m'self int' it," said Tray, importantly. "Newspapers ain't
+good enough, and you gets pains in wet weather. So I turns a good
+boy"&mdash;he grinned evilly&mdash;"and goes to a ragged kids' school to do the
+'oly. The superintendent ses I'm a promising case, and he arsked Mr.
+Pash, as is also Sunday inclined, to 'elp me. The orfice-boy 'ere went,
+and I come." Tray tossed the shilling and spat on it for luck as he
+slipped it into the pocket of quite a respectable pair of trousers. "So
+I'm on m'waiy to bein' Lord Mayor turn agin Wittington, as they ses in
+the panymine."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Well," said Beecot, amused, "I hope you will prove yourself worthy."</p>
+
+<p>Tray winked. "Ho! I'm straight es long es it's wuth m'while. I takes
+m'sal'ry 'ome to gran, and don't plaiy pitch an' torse n'more." He
+winked again, and looked as wicked a brat as ever walked.</p>
+
+<p>Paul had his doubts as to what the outcome of Mr. Pash's charity would
+be, and, being amused, was about to pursue the conversation, when the
+inner door opened and Pash, looking troubled, appeared. When he saw Paul
+he started and came forward.</p>
+
+<p>"I was just about to send Tray for you," said he, looking anxious.
+"Something unpleasant has come to light in connection with Krill."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot started and brought out the scrap of paper. "Look at that," he
+said, "and you will see that the man warned Sylvia."</p>
+
+<p>Pash glanced hurriedly over the paper. "Most unfortunate," he said,
+folding it up and puffing out his cheeks; "but it's too late. The name
+of Krill was in those printed bills&mdash;a portrait also, and now&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what?" asked Paul, seeing the lawyer hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Come inside and you'll see," said Pash, and conducted Beecot into the
+inner room.</p>
+
+<p>Here sat two ladies. The elder was a woman of over fifty, but who looked
+younger, owing to her fresh complexion and plump figure. She had a firm
+face, with hard blue eyes and a rather full-lipped mouth. Her hair was
+white, and there was a great deal of it. Under a widow's cap it was
+dressed <i>&agrave; la</i> Marie Antoinette, and she looked very handsome in a
+full-blown, flowery way. She had firm, white hands, rather large, and,
+as she had removed her black gloves, these, Paul saw, were covered with
+cheap rings. Altogether a respectable, well-dressed widow, but evidently
+not a lady.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+
+<p>Nor was the girl beside her, who revealed sufficient similarity of
+features to announce herself the daughter of the widow. There was the
+same fresh complexion, full red lips and hard blue eyes. But the hair
+was of a golden color, and fashionably dressed. The young woman&mdash;she
+likewise was not a lady&mdash;was also in black.</p>
+
+<p>"This," said Pash, indicating the elder woman, who smiled, "is Mrs.
+Lemuel Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"The wife of the man who called himself Aaron Norman," went on the
+widow; "and this," she indicated her daughter, "is his heiress."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">A CUCKOO IN THE NEST</p>
+
+
+<p>Paul looked from the fresh-colored woman who spoke so smoothly and so
+firmly to the apish lawyer hunched in his chair with a sphinx-like look
+on his wrinkled face. For the moment, so taken aback was he by this
+astounding announcement, that he could not speak. The younger woman
+stared at him with her hard blue eyes, and a smile played round her full
+lips. The mother also looked at him in an engaging way, as though she
+rather admired his youthful comeliness in spite of his well-brushed,
+shabby apparel.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what you mean," said Beecot at length, "Mr. Pash?"</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer aroused himself to make a concise statement of the case. "So
+far as I understand," he said in his nervous, irritable way, "these
+ladies claim to be the wife and daughter of Lemuel Krill, whom we knew
+as Aaron Norman."</p>
+
+<p>"And I think by his real name also," said the elder woman in her deep,
+smooth contralto voice, and with the display of an admirable set of
+teeth. "The bills advertising the reward, and stating the fact of the
+murder, bore my late husband's real name."</p>
+
+<p>"Norman was not your husband, madam," cried Paul, indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with you, sir. Lemuel Krill was my husband. I saw in the
+newspapers, which penetrate even into the quiet little Hants village I
+live in, that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
+Aaron Norman had been murdered. I never thought he was the man who had
+left me more than twenty years ago with an only child to bring up. But
+the bills offering the reward assured me that Norman and Krill are one
+and the same man. Therefore," she drew herself up and looked piercingly
+at the young man, "I have come to see after the property. I understand
+from the papers that my daughter is an heiress to millions."</p>
+
+<p>"Not millions," said Pash, hastily. "The newspapers have exaggerated the
+amount. Five thousand a year, madam, and it is left to Sylvia."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Sylvia?" asked Mrs. Krill, in the words of Shakespeare's song.</p>
+
+<p>"She is the daughter of Mr. Norman," said Paul, quickly, "and is engaged
+to marry me."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill's eyes travelled over his shabby suit from head to foot, and
+then back again from foot to head. She glanced sideways at her
+companion, and the girl laughed in a hard, contemptuous manner. "I fear
+you will be disappointed in losing a rich wife, sir," said the elder
+woman, sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not lost the money yet," replied Paul, hotly. "Not that I care
+for the money."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," put in Mrs. Krill, ironically, with another look at his
+dress.</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>do</i> care for Sylvia Norman&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"With whom I have nothing to do."</p>
+
+<p>"She is your husband's daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"But not mine. This is my daughter, Maud&mdash;the legal daughter of Lemuel
+and myself," she added meaningly.</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, madam," cried Beecot, his face turning white, "what do
+you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill raised her thick white eyebrows, and shrugged her plump
+shoulders, and made a graceful motion with her white, be-ringed hand.
+"Is there any need for me to explain?" she said calmly.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I think there is every need," cried Beecot, sharply. "I shall not allow
+Miss Norman to lose her fortune or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Or lose it yourself, sir. I quite understand. Nevertheless, I am
+assured that the law of the land will protect, through me, my daughter's
+rights. She leaves it in my hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the girl, in a voice as full and rich and soft as her
+smooth-faced mother, "I leave it in her hands."</p>
+
+<p>Paul sat down and concealed his face with a groan. He was thinking not
+so much of the loss of the money, although that was a consideration, as
+of the shame Sylvia would feel at her position. Then a gleam of hope
+darted into his mind. "Mr. Norman was married to Sylvia's mother under
+his own name. You can't prove the marriage void."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no wish to. When did this marriage take place?"</p>
+
+<p>Beecot looked at the lawyer, who replied. "Twenty-two years ago," and he
+gave the date.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill fished in a black morocco bag she carried and brought out a
+shabby blue envelope. "I thought this might be needed," she said,
+passing it to Pash. "You will find there my marriage certificate. I
+became the wife of Lemuel Krill thirty years ago. And, as I am still
+living, I fear the later marriage&mdash;" She smiled blandly and shrugged her
+shoulders again. "Poor girl!" she said with covert insolence.</p>
+
+<p>"Sylvia does not need your pity," cried Beecot, stung by the
+insinuation.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, sir," said Mrs. Krill, sadly, and with the look of a
+treacherous cat, "I fear she needs the pity of all right-thinking
+people. Many would speak harshly of her, seeing what she is, but my
+troubles have taught me charity. I repeat that I am sorry for the girl."</p>
+
+<p>"And again I say there is no need," rejoined Paul,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
+throwing back his head; "and you forget, madam, there is a will."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill's fresh color turned to a dull white, and her hard eyes shot
+fire. "A will," she said slowly. "I shall dispute the will if it is not
+in my favor. I am the widow of this man and I claim full justice.
+Besides," she went on, wetting her full lips with her tongue, "I
+understood from the newspapers that the money was left to Mr. Krill's
+daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. To Sylvia Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"Norman, sir. She has no right to any other name. But I really do not
+see why I should explain myself to you, sir. If you choose to give this
+girl your name you will be doing a good act. At present the poor
+creature is&mdash;nobody." She let the last word drop from her lips slowly,
+so as to give Paul its full sting.</p>
+
+<p>Beecot said nothing. He could not dispute what she said. If this woman
+could prove the marriage of thirty years ago, then Krill, or Norman as
+he called himself, had committed bigamy, and, in the hard eyes of the
+law, Sylvia was nobody's child. And that the marriage could be proved
+Paul saw well enough from the looks of the lawyer, who was studying the
+certificate which he had drawn from the shabby blue envelope. "Then the
+will&mdash;the money is left to Sylvia," he said with obstinacy. "I shall
+defend her rights."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Mrs. Krill, significantly. "I understand that a wife
+with five thousand&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I would marry Sylvia without a penny."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, sir, that is the only way in which you can marry her. If you
+like I shall allow her twenty pounds for a trousseau."</p>
+
+<p>Paul rose and flung back his head again. "You have not got the money
+yet, madam," he said defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>Not at all disturbed, Mrs. Krill smiled her eternal
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
+smile. "I am here to get it. There is a will, you say," she added,
+turning to Pash. "And I understand from this gentleman," she indicated
+Beecot slightly, "that the money is left to Mr. Krill's daughter. Does
+he name Maud or Sylvia?"</p>
+
+<p>Pash slapped down the certificate irritably. "He names no one. The will
+is a hasty document badly worded, and simply leaves all the testator
+died possessed of to&mdash;my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Which of course means Maud here. I congratulate you, dear," she said,
+turning to the girl, who looked happy and flushed. "Your father has made
+up to us both for his cruelty and desertion."</p>
+
+<p>Seeing that there was nothing to be said, Paul went to the door. But
+there his common sense left him and he made a valedictory speech. "I
+know that Mr. Krill left the money to Sylvia."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said the widow, "to his daughter, as I understand the wording
+of the will runs. In that case this nameless girl has nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Pash!" cried Beecot, turning despairingly to the little solicitor.</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head and sucked in his cheeks. "I am sorry, Mr.
+Beecot," said he, in a pitying tone, "but as the will stands the money
+must certainly go to the child born in wedlock. I have the certificate
+here," he laid his monkey paw on it, "but of course I shall make
+inquiries."</p>
+
+<p>"By all means," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. "My daughter and myself
+have lived for many years in Christchurch, Hants. We keep the inn
+there&mdash;not the principal inn, but a small public-house on the outskirts
+of the village. It will be a change for us both to come into five
+thousand a year after such penury. Of course, Mr. Pash, you will act for
+my daughter and myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Pash acts for Sylvia," cried Paul, still lingering at the door. The
+lawyer was on the horns of a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
+dilemma. "If what Mrs. Krill says is true I can't dispute the facts," he
+said irritably, "and I am unwilling to give up the business. Prove to
+me, ma'am, that you are the lawful widow of my late client, and that
+this is my late esteemed client's lawful daughter, and I will act for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill's ample bosom rose and fell and her eyes glittered
+triumphantly. She cast a victorious glance at Beecot. But that young man
+was looking at the solicitor. "Rats leave the sinking ship," said he,
+bitterly; "you will not prosper, Pash."</p>
+
+<p>"Everyone prospers who protects the widow and the orphan," said Pash, in
+a pious tone, and so disgusted Paul that he closed the door with a bang
+and went out. Tray was playing chuck-farthing at the door and keeping
+Mr. Grexon Hay from coming in.</p>
+
+<p>"You there, Beecot?" said this gentleman, coldly. "I wish you would tell
+this brat to let me enter."</p>
+
+<p>"Brat yourself y' toff," cried Tray, pocketing his money. "Ain't I
+a-doin' as my master tells me? He's engaged with two pretty women"&mdash;he
+leered in a way which made Paul long to box his ears&mdash;"so I don't spile
+sport. You've got tired of them, Mr. Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know Mr. Beecot's name?" asked Hay, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Lor', sir. Didn't you and me pull him from under the wheels?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Grexon, suddenly enlightened, "were you the boy? Since you
+have washed your face I didn't recognize you. Well, Beecot, you look
+disturbed."</p>
+
+<p>"I have reason to. And since you and this boy pulled me from under the
+wheels of the motor," said Paul, glancing from one to the other, "I
+should like to know what became of the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't know," said Grexon, quietly. "We talked of this
+before. I gave it as my opinion,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+if you remember, that it was picked up in the street by the late Aaron
+Norman and was used to seal his mouth. At least that is the only way in
+which I can conjecture you lost it."</p>
+
+<p>"You never saw it drop from my pocket?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should have picked it up and returned it had I seen it," said Hay,
+fixing his eye-glass. "Perhaps this boy saw it."</p>
+
+<p>"Saw what?" asked Tray, who was listening with both his large ears.</p>
+
+<p>"An old blue-velvet case with a brooch inside," said Beecot, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Tray shook his head vigorously. "If I'd seen it I' ha' nicked it," he
+said impudently; "catch me givin' it back t' y', Mr. Beecot. There's a
+cove I knows&mdash;a fence that is&mdash;as 'ud give me lots fur it. Lor'," said
+Tray, with deep disappointment, "to think as that dropped out of your
+pocket and I never grabbed it. Wot crewel luck&mdash;ho!" and he spat.</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked hard at the boy, who met his gaze innocently enough.
+Apparently he spoke in all seriousness, and really lamented the lost
+chance of gaining a piece of jewellery to make money out of. Moreover,
+had he stolen the brooch, he would hardly have talked so openly of the
+fence he alluded to. Hay the young man could not suspect, as there was
+positively no reason why he should steal so comparatively trifling an
+article. Sharper as he was, Hay flew at higher game, and certainly would
+not waste his time, or risk his liberty, in stealing what would bring
+him in only a few shillings.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you ask the detectives to search for the brooch," said Hay,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"It is in the detective's possession," said Paul, sullenly; "but we want
+to know how it came to pin Norman's lips together."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't imagine, unless he picked it up. If lost at all it must have
+been lost in the street the old
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
+man lived in, and you told me he wanted the brooch badly."</p>
+
+<p>"But he wasn't on the spot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wot," cried Tray, suddenly, "the one-eyed cove? Ho, yuss, but warn't
+he? Why, when they was a-gitin' the ambulance, an' the peelers wos
+a-crowdin' round, he come dancing like billeo out of his shorp."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot thought this was strange, as he understood from Deborah and Bart
+and Sylvia that Norman had known nothing of the accident at the time.
+Then again Norman himself had not mentioned it when he paid that visit
+to the hospital within a few hours of his death. "I don't think that's
+true," he said to Tray sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, cuss it," said that young gentleman, "wot d' I care. Th' ole cove
+come an' danced in the mud, and then he gits int' his shorp again. Trew
+is trew, saiy wot y' like, mister&mdash;ho."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot turned his back on the boy. After all, he was not worth arguing
+with, and a liar by instinct. Still, in this case he might have spoken
+the truth. Norman might have appeared on the scene of the accident and
+have picked up the brooch. Paul thought he would tell Hurd this, and,
+meantime, held out his hand to Hay. In spite of the bad character he had
+heard of that young man, he saw no reason why he should not be civil to
+him, until he found him out. Meantime, he was on his guard.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment," said Grexon, grasping the outstretched hand. "I have
+something to say to you," and he walked a little way with Paul. "I am
+going in to see Pash on business which means a little money to me. I was
+the unfortunate cause of your accident, Beecot, so I think you might
+accept twenty pounds or so from me."</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you all the same," said Paul gratefully, yet with a certain
+amount of caution. "I can struggle along. After all, it was an
+accident."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
+
+<p>"A very unfortunate one," said Hay, more heartily than usual. "I shall
+never forgive myself. Is your arm all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, much better. I'll be quite cured in a week or so."</p>
+
+<p>"And meantime how do you live?"</p>
+
+<p>"I manage to get along," replied Paul, reservedly. He did not wish to
+reveal the nakedness of the land to such a doubtful acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a hard-hearted sort of chap," said Hay coldly, but rather
+annoyed at his friendly advances being flouted. "Well, then, if you
+won't accept a loan, let me help you in another way. Come and dine at my
+rooms. I have a young publisher coming also, and if you meet him he will
+be able to do something for you. He's under obligations to me, and you
+may be certain I'll use all my influence in your favor. Come now&mdash;next
+Tuesday&mdash;that's a week off&mdash;you can't have any engagement at such a long
+notice."</p>
+
+<p>Paul smiled. "I never do have any engagements," he said with his boyish
+smile, "thank you. I'll look in if I can. But I am in trouble,
+Grexon&mdash;very great trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"You shouldn't be," said Hay, smiling. "I know well enough why you will
+not accept my loan. The papers say Sylvia, your Dulcinea, has inherited
+a million. You are to marry her. Unless," said Hay, suddenly, "this
+access of wealth has turned her head and she has thrown you over. Is she
+that sort of girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Paul quietly, "she is as true to me as I am to her. But you
+are mistaken as to the million. It is five thousand a year, and she may
+not even inherit that."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not at liberty to say. But with regard to your dinner," added
+Paul, hastily changing the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
+conversation, "I'll come if I can get my dress-suit out of pawn."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I count on you," said Hay, blandly, "though you will not let me
+help you to obtain the suit. However, this publisher will do a lot for
+you. By Jove, what a good-looking girl."</p>
+
+<p>He said this under his breath. Miss Maud Krill appeared on the doorstep
+where the two young men stood and stumbled against Grexon in passing.
+His hat was off at once, and he apologized profusely. Miss Krill, who
+seemed a young woman of few words, as Paul thought from her silence in
+the office, smiled and bowed, but passed on, without saying a "thank
+you." Mrs. Krill followed, escorted by the treacherous Pash who was all
+smiles and hand-washings and bows. Apparently he was quite convinced
+that the widow's story was true, and Paul felt sick at the news he would
+have to tell Sylvia. Pash saw the young man, and meeting his indignant
+eyes darted back into his office like a rabbit into its burrow. The
+widow sailed out in her calm, serene way, without a look at either Paul
+or his companion. Yet the young man had an instinct that she saw them
+both.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the mother I expect," said Hay, putting his glass firmly into
+his eye; "a handsome pair. Gad, Paul, that young woman&mdash;eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you'd like to marry her," said Paul, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>Hay drew himself up stiffly. "I don't marry stray young women I see on
+the street, however attractive," he said in his cold voice. "I don't
+know either of these ladies."</p>
+
+<p>"Pash will introduce you if you make it worth his while."</p>
+
+<p>"Why the deuce should I," retorted Hay, staring.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Beecot, impulsively telling the whole of the misfortune
+that had befallen him, "that is the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
+wife and that is the daughter of Aaron Norman, <i>alias</i> Krill. The
+daughter inherits five thousand a year, so marry her and be happy."</p>
+
+<p>"But your Dulcinea?" asked Grexon, dropping his eye-glass in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"She has me and poverty," said Paul, turning away. Nor could the quiet
+call of Hay make him stop. But at the end of the street he looked back,
+and saw Grexon entering the office of the lawyer. If Hay was the man
+Hurd said he was, Paul guessed that he would inquire about the heiress
+and marry her too, if her banking account was large and safe.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">THE NEW LIFE</p>
+
+
+<p>For obvious reasons Beecot did not return to Gwynne Street. It was
+difficult to swallow this bitter pill which Providence had administered.
+In place of an assured future with Sylvia, he found himself confronted
+with his former poverty, with no chance of marrying the girl, and with
+the obligation of telling her that she had no right to any name. Paul
+was by no means a coward, and his first impulse was to go at once and
+inform Sylvia of her reverse of fortune. But it was already late, and he
+thought it would be only kind to withhold the bad news till the morrow,
+and thus avoid giving the disinherited girl a tearful and wakeful night.
+Therefore, after walking the Embankment till late, Paul went to his
+garret.</p>
+
+<p>To the young man's credit it must be said that he cared very little for
+the loss of the money, although he grieved on Sylvia's account. Had he
+been able to earn a small income, he would have married the girl and
+given her the protection of his name without the smallest hesitation.
+But he was yet unknown to fame; he was at variance with his father, and
+he could scarcely bring Sylvia to share his bitter poverty&mdash;which might
+grow still more bitter in that cold and cheerless garret.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was another thing to consider. Paul had written to his father
+explaining the circumstances of his engagement to Sylvia, and asking
+for
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
+the paternal blessing. To gain this, he mentioned that his promised wife
+had five thousand a year. Bully and tyrant as Beecot senior was, he
+loved money, and although well off, was always on the alert to have more
+brought into the family. With the bribe of a wealthy wife, Paul had
+little doubt but what the breach would be healed, and Sylvia welcomed as
+the sweetest and most desirable daughter-in-law in the world. Then Paul
+fancied the girl would be able to subdue with her gentle ways the
+stubborn heart of his father, and would also be able to make Mrs. Beecot
+happy. Indeed, he had received a letter from his mother congratulating
+him on his wealthy match, for the good lady wished to see Paul
+independent of the domestic tyrant. Also Mrs. Beecot had made many
+inquiries about Sylvia's goodness and beauty, and hoped that he had
+chosen wisely, and hinted that no girl living was worthy of her son,
+after the fashion of mothers. Paul had replied to this letter setting
+forth his own unworthiness and Sylvia's perfections, and Mrs. Beecot had
+accepted the good news with joy. But the letter written to Beecot senior
+was yet unanswered, and Paul began to think that not even the chance of
+having a rich daughter-in-law would prevail against the obstinacy of the
+old gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>But when he reached his garret, after that lonely and tormenting walk on
+the Embankment, he found a letter from his father, and opened it with
+some trepidation. It proved to contain joyful news. Mr. Beecot thanked
+Heaven that Paul was not such a fool as he had been of yore, and hinted
+that this sudden access of sense which had led him to engage himself to
+a wealthy girl had come from his father and not from his mother.
+He&mdash;Beecot senior&mdash;was aware that Paul had acted badly, and had not
+remembered what was due to the best of fathers; but since he was
+prepared to settle down with a rich wife,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
+Beecot senior nobly forgave the past and Paul's many delinquences
+(mentioned in detail) and would be glad to welcome his daughter-in-law.
+Then Beecot, becoming the tyrant again, insisted that the marriage
+should take place in Wargrove, and that the fact of Sylvia's father
+being murdered should be suppressed. In fact, the old gentleman left
+nothing to the young couple, but arranged everything in his own selfish
+way, even to choosing, in Wargrove, the house they would inhabit. The
+house, he mentioned, was one of his own which could not be let on
+account of some trivial tale of a ghost, and Mr. Beecot would give this
+as a marriage gift to Paul, thus getting rid of an unprofitable property
+and playing the part of a generous father at one and the same time. In
+spite of his bucolic ways and pig-headed obstinacy and narrow views,
+Beecot senior possessed a certain amount of cunning which Paul read in
+every line of the selfish letter before him.</p>
+
+<p>However, the main point was, that the old gentleman seemed ready to
+overlook the past and to receive Sylvia. Paul wanted to return to his
+home, not so much on account of his father, as because he wished to
+smooth the remaining years of his mother, and he knew well that Sylvia
+with her gentle ways and heart of gold would make Mrs. Beecot happy. So
+long as Paul loved the girl he wished to marry, the mother was happy;
+but Beecot senior had an eye to the money, and thus was ready to be
+bribed into forgiveness and decent behavior. Now all this was altered.
+From the tone of the letter, Paul knew his father would never consent to
+his marrying a girl not only without a name, but lacking the fortune
+which alone rendered her desirable in his eyes. Still, the truth would
+have to be told, and if Beecot senior refused to approve of the
+marriage, the young couple would have to do without his sanction. The
+position, thought Paul, would only make him work the harder,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
+so that within a reasonable time he might be able to provide a home for
+Sylvia.</p>
+
+<p>So, the young man facing the situation, bravely wrote to his father and
+explained how the fortune had passed from Sylvia, but declared, with all
+the romance of youth, that he intended to marry the girl all the same.
+If Beecot senior, said Paul, would permit the marriage, and allow the
+couple a small income until the husband could earn enough to keep the
+pot boiling, the writer would be grateful. If not, Paul declared firmly
+that he would work like a slave to make a home for his darling. But
+nothing in the world would make him give up Sylvia. This was the letter
+to his father, and then Paul wrote one to his mother, detailing the
+circumstances and imploring her to stand by him, although in his own
+sinking heart he felt that Mrs. Beecot was but a frail reed on which to
+lean. He finished these letters and posted them before midnight. Then he
+went to bed and dreamed that the bad news was all moonshine, and that
+Sylvia and he were a happy rich married pair.</p>
+
+<p>But the cold grey searching light of dawn brought the actual state of
+things again to his mind and so worried him that he could hardly eat any
+breakfast. He spent the morning in writing a short tale, for which he
+had been promised a couple of sovereigns, and took it to the office of
+the weekly paper which had accepted it, on his way to Gwynne Street.
+Paul's heart was heavy, thinking of what he had to tell, but he did not
+intend to let Sylvia see that he was despondent. On turning down the
+street he raised his head, assumed a smile and walked with a confident
+step into the shop.</p>
+
+<p>As he entered he heard a heavy woman plunge down the stairs, and found
+his arm grasped by Deborah, very red-faced and very furious, the moment
+he crossed the threshold. Bart could be heard knocking boxes together in
+the cellar, as he was getting Deborah's
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
+belongings ready for removal to Jubileetown, where the cottage, and the
+drying ground for the laundry, had already been secured through Pash.
+But Paul had no time to ask what was going on. A glance at the
+hand-maiden's tearful face revealed that she knew the worst, in which
+case Sylvia must also have heard the news.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," cried Deborah, seeing the sudden whiteness of Paul's cheeks, and
+shaking him so much as to hurt his injured arm, "she knows, she do&mdash;oh,
+lor', bless us that things should come to this&mdash;and there she's settin'
+a-crying out her beautiful eyes for you, Mr. Beecot. Thinking of your
+throwin' her over, and if you do," shouted Deborah, with another shake,
+"you'd better ha' bin smashed to a jelly than face me in my presingt
+state. Seein' you from the winder I made bold to come down and arsk your
+intentings; for if them do mean no marriage and the breaking of my
+pretty's 'eart, never shall she set eyes agin on a double-faced Jonah,
+and&mdash;and&mdash;" Here Deborah gasped for breath and again shook Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Deborah," he said, in a quiet voice, releasing himself, "I love Sylvia
+for herself and not for her money."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah threw her brawny arms in the air and her apron over her red
+head. "I knowed it&mdash;oh, yuss, indeed," she sobbed in muffled tones. "Ses
+I, I ses, Mr. Paul's a gentleman whatever his frantic par may be and
+marry you, my own lovey, he will, though not able to afford the marriage
+fees, the same as will come out of Debby's pocket, though the laundry go
+by the board. 'Eaven knows what we'll live on all the same, pore wurkhus
+ijets as me an' Bart are, not bein' able to make you an' Miss Sylvia
+'appy. Miss Sylvia Krill an' Norman both," ended Deborah with emphasis,
+"whatever that smooth cat with the grin and the clawses may say, drat
+her fur a slimy tabby&mdash;yah!"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I see you know all," said Paul, as soon as he could slip in a word.</p>
+
+<p>"Know all," almost yelled Deborah, dragging down the apron and revealing
+flashing eyes, "and it's a mussy I ain't in Old Bailey this very day for
+scratching that monkey of a Pash. Oh, if I'd known wot he wos never
+should he 'ave got me the laundry, though the same may have to go, worse
+luck. Ho, yuss! he come, and she come with her kitting, as is almost as
+big a cat as she is. Mrs. Krill, bless her, oh, yuss, Mrs. Krill, the
+sneakin', smiling Jezebel."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she see Sylvia?" asked Beecot, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Yuss, she did," admitted Deborah, "me lettin' her in not knowin' her
+scratchin's. An' the monkey an' the kitting come too&mdash;a-spyin' out the
+land as you may say. W'en I 'eard the noos I 'owled Mr. Paul, but my
+pretty she turned white like one of them plaster stateys as boys sell
+cheap in the streets, and ses she, she ses, 'Oh Paul'&mdash;if you'll forgive
+me mentioning your name, sir, without perliteness."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless her, my darling. Did she think of me," said Beecot, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, when do she not think of you, sir? 'Eart of gold, though none in
+her pocket by means of that Old Bailey woman as is a good match fur my
+Old Bailey master. Ho! he wos a bad 'un, and 'ow Miss Sylvia ever come
+to 'ave sich a par beats me. But I thank 'eaven the cat ain't my
+pretty's mar, though she do 'ave a daughter of her own, the painted,
+stuck-up parcel of bad bargains."</p>
+
+<p>Paul nodded. "Calling names won't do any good, Deborah," he said sadly;
+"we must do the best we can."</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't no chance of the lawr gettin' that woman to the gallers I
+'spose, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"The woman is your late master's lawful wife. Pash seems to think so and
+has gone over to the enemy"&mdash;here Deborah clenched her mighty fists and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
+gasped. "Sylvia's mother was married later, and as the former wife is
+alive Sylvia is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," shouted Deborah, flinging out her hand, "don't say it."</p>
+
+<p>"Sylvia is poor," ended Paul, calmly. "What did you think I was about to
+say, Deborah?"</p>
+
+<p>"What that cat said, insulting of my pretty. But I shoved her out of the
+door, tellin' her what she were. She guv me and Bart and my own sunbeam
+notice to quit," gasped Deborah, almost weeping, "an' quit we will this
+very day, Bart bein' a-packin' at this momingt. 'Ear 'im knocking, and I
+wish he wos a-knockin' at Mrs. Krill's 'ead, that I do, the flauntin'
+hussy as she is, drat her."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go up and see Sylvia. No, Deborah, don't you come for a few
+minutes. When you do come we'll arrange what is to be done."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah nodded acquiescence. "Take my lovely flower in your arms, sir,"
+she said, following him to the foot of the stairs, "and tell her as your
+'eart is true, which true I knowed it would be."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot was soon in the sitting-room and found Sylvia on the sofa, her
+face buried in her hands. She looked up when she recognized the beloved
+footsteps and sprang to her feet. The next moment she was sobbing her
+heart out on Paul's faithful breast, and he was comforting her with all
+the endearing names he could think of.</p>
+
+<p>"My own, my sweet, my dearest darling," whispered Paul, smoothing the
+pretty brown hair, "don't weep. You have lost much, but you have me."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear," she wept, "do you think it is true?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid it is, Sylvia. However, I know a young lawyer, who is a
+friend of mine, and I'll speak to him."</p>
+
+<p>"But Paul, though my mother may not have been married to my father&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She <i>was</i>, Sylvia, but Mrs. Krill was married
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
+to him earlier. Your father committed bigamy, and you, poor child, have
+to pay the penalty."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, even if the marriage is wrong, the money was left to us."</p>
+
+<p>"To you, dear," said Beecot, leading her to the sofa, "that is, the
+money was left in that loosely-worded will to 'my daughter.' We all
+thought it was you, but now this legal wife has come on the scene, the
+money must go to her daughter. Oh, Sylvia," cried Paul, straining her to
+his breast, "how foolish your father was not to say the money was left
+to 'my daughter Sylvia.' Then everything would have been right. But the
+absence of the name is fatal. The law will assume that the testator
+meant his true daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"And am I not his true daughter?" she asked, her lips quivering.</p>
+
+<p>"You are my own darling, Sylvia," murmured Paul, kissing her hair;
+"don't let us talk of the matter. I'll speak to my lawyer friend, but I
+fear from the attitude of Pash that Mrs. Krill will make good her claim.
+Were there a chance of keeping you in possession of the money, Pash
+would never have left you so easily."</p>
+
+<p>"I am so sorry about the money on your account, Paul."</p>
+
+<p>"My own," he said cheerily, "money is a good thing, and I wish we could
+have kept the five thousand a year. But I have you, and you have me, and
+although we cannot marry for a long time yet&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not marry, Paul! Oh, why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest, I am poor, I cannot drag you down to poverty."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia looked at him wide-eyed. "I am poor already." She looked round
+the room. "Nothing here is mine. I have only a few clothes. Mr. Pash
+said that Mrs. Krill would take everything. Let me
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
+marry you, darling," she whispered coaxingly, "and we can live in your
+garret. I will cook and mend, and be your own little wife."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot groaned. "Don't tempt me, Sylvia," he said, putting her away, "I
+dare not marry you. Why, I have hardly enough to pay the fees. No, dear,
+you must go with Debby to her laundry, and I'll work night and day to
+make enough for us to live on. Then we'll marry, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But your father, Paul?"</p>
+
+<p>"He won't do anything. He consented to our engagement, but solely, I
+believe, because he thought you were rich. Now, when he knows you are
+poor&mdash;and I wrote to tell him last night&mdash;he will forbid the match."</p>
+
+<p>"Paul!" She clung to him in sick terror.</p>
+
+<p>"My sweetest"&mdash;he caught her in his arms&mdash;"do you think a dozen fathers
+would make me give you up? No, my love of loves&mdash;my soul, my heart of
+hearts&mdash;come good, come ill, we will be together. You can stay with
+Debby at Jubileetown until I make enough to welcome you to a home,
+however humble. Dear, be hopeful, and trust in the God who brought us
+together. He is watching over us, and, knowing that, why need we fear?
+Don't cry, darling heart."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not crying for crying," sobbed Sylvia, hiding her face on his
+breast and speaking incoherently; "but I'm so happy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In spite of the bad news?" asked Paul, laughing gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;to think that you should still wish to marry me. I am
+poor&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;have&mdash;no name, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest, you will soon have my name."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mrs. Krill said&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to hear what she said," cried Paul, impetuously; "she is a
+bad woman. I can see badness
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
+written all over her smiling face. We won't think of her. When you leave
+here you won't see her again. My own dear little sweetheart," whispered
+Paul, tenderly, "when you leave this unhappy house, let the bad past go.
+You and I will begin a new life. Come, don't cry, my pet. Here's Debby."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia looked up, and threw herself into the faithful servant's arms.
+"Oh, Debby, he loves me still; he's going to marry me whenever he can."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah laughed and wiped Sylvia's tears away with her coarse apron,
+tenderly. "You silly flower," she cried caressingly; "you foolish queen
+of 'oney bees, of course he have you in his 'eart. You'll be bride and
+I'll be bridesmaid, though not a pretty one, and all will be 'oney and
+sunshine and gates of pearl, my beauty."</p>
+
+<p>"Debby&mdash;I'm&mdash;I'm&mdash;so happy!"</p>
+
+<p>Deborah placed her young mistress in Paul's arms. "Then let 'im make you
+'appier, pretty lily of the valley. Lor', as if anything bad 'ud ever
+come to you two while silly old Debby have a leg to stan' on an' arms to
+wash. Though the laundry&mdash;oh, lor'!" and she rubbed her nose till it
+grew scarlet, "what of it, Mr. Beecot, I do ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you enough money to pay a year's rent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, me and Bart have saved one 'undred between us. Rent and furniture
+and taxes can come out of it, sure. And my washin's what I call
+washin'," said Deborah, emphatically; "no lost buttings and tored sheets
+and ragged collars. I'd wash ag'in the queen 'erself, tho' I ses it as
+shouldn't. Give me a tub, and you'll see if the money don't come in."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, Deborah, as I am too poor to marry Sylvia now, I want her
+to stop with you till I can make a home for her."</p>
+
+<p>"An' where else should she stop but with her own silly, foolish Debby,
+I'd like to know? My flower, you come an' be queen of the laundry."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I'll keep the accounts, Debby," said Sylvia, now all smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll keep nothin' but your color an' your dear 'eart up," retorted
+Debby, sniffing; "me an' Bart 'ull do all. An' this blessed day we'll go
+to Jubileetown with our belongings. And you, Mr. Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll come and see you settled, Deborah, and then I return to earn an
+income for Sylvia. I won't let you keep her long."</p>
+
+<p>"She'll stop as long as she have the will," shouted Debby, hugging
+Sylvia; "as to that Krill cat&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She can take possession as soon as she likes. And, Deborah," added
+Paul, significantly, "for all that has happened, I don't intend to drop
+the search for your late master's murderer."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the Krill cat as done it," said Debby, "though I ain't got no
+reason for a-sayin' of such a think."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">THE DETECTIVE'S VIEWS</p>
+
+
+<p>As Paul expected, the next letter from his father contained a revocation
+of all that had pleased him in the former one. Beecot senior wrote many
+pages of abuse&mdash;he always did babble like a complaining woman when
+angered. He declined to sanction the marriage and ordered his son at
+once&mdash;underlined&mdash;to give up all thought of making Sylvia Norman his
+wife. It would have been hard enough, wrote Beecot, to have received her
+as a daughter-in-law even with money, seeing that she had no position
+and was the daughter of a murdered tradesman, but seeing also that she
+was a pauper, and worse, a girl without a cognomen, he forbade Paul to
+bestow on her the worthy name of Beecot, so nobly worn by himself. There
+was much more to the same effect, which Paul did not read, and the
+letter ended grandiloquently in a command that Paul was to repair at
+once to the Manor and there grovel at the feet of his injured father.</p>
+
+<p>To this despotic epistle the young man answered in a few lines. He said
+that he intended to marry Sylvia, and that nothing would make him give
+her up, and that he would not meet his father again until that father
+remembered that his son was an Englishman and not a slave. Paul signed
+his letter without the usual "your affectionate son," for he felt that
+he had small love for this imperious old man who declined to control his
+passions. So he now,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
+knew the worst. The breach between himself and his father was wider than
+ever, and he had only his youth and his brains to depend upon, in making
+a living for himself and a home for Sylvia. Strange to say, Paul's
+spirits rose, and he braced himself bravely to do battle with fortune
+for his beloved.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia, under the charge of Deborah, and escorted by Bart Tawsey, had
+duly left Gwynne Street, bag and baggage, and she was now established in
+Rose Cottage, Jubileetown. The house was a small one, and there was not
+a single rose in the garden around it. Indeed, as the cottage had been
+newly erected, there was not even a garden, and it stood amidst a bare
+acre with a large drying-ground at the back. But the cottage, on the
+outskirts of the new suburb, was, to all intents and purposes, in the
+country, and Sylvia's weary eyes were so gladdened by green fields and
+glorious trees that she forgot the nakedness of her immediate
+surroundings. She was assigned the best room in the small abode, and one
+of the first things she did was to write a letter to Paul asking him to
+repair to Rose Cottage to witness the marriage of Deborah and Bart. The
+handmaiden thought this was necessary, so that she could make full use
+of her intended husband.</p>
+
+<p>"If he wasn't here allays," said the bride-elect, "he'd be gadding about
+idling. I know him. An' me getting a business together won't be easy
+unless I've got him at 'and, as you may say, to take round the bills,
+let alone that he ought to sleep in the 'ouse in case burgulars gits in.
+And sleep in the 'ouse without the blessin' of matrimony he can't, my
+pretty, so that's all about it."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah, as an American would say, was a "hustler," and having made up
+her mind, she did not let grass grow under her feet. She called on the
+vicar of the parish and explained herself at great length, but
+suppressed the fact that she had
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
+formerly lived in Gwynne Street. She did not want the shadow of the
+murder to cast a gloom over her new home, and therefore said nothing
+about the matter. All the vicar, good, easy soul, knew, was that Deborah
+had been a servant in a respectable family (whereabouts not mentioned);
+that the father and mother had died, and that she had brought the only
+daughter of the house to live with her and be treated like a lady. Then
+Deborah demanded that the banns should be put up, and arranged that Bart
+should take up his abode in the parish for the necessary time. This was
+done, and for three Sundays Deborah had the pleasure of hearing the
+banns announced which foretold that Bart Tawsey and herself would soon
+be man and wife. Then the marriage took place.</p>
+
+<p>The future Mrs. Tawsey had no relatives, but Bart produced a snuffy old
+grandmother from some London slum who drank gin during the
+wedding-feast, much to the scandal of the bride. Paul acted as best man
+to Bart, and Sylvia, in her plain black dress, was bridesmaid. Mrs.
+Purr, the grandmother, objected to the presence of black at a wedding,
+saying it was unlucky, and told of many fearful incidents which had
+afterwards occurred to those who had tolerated such a funeral garb. But
+Deborah swept away all opposition.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" she shouted in her usual style, "not 'ave my own sweet pretty to
+arsk a blessing on my marriage, and she not able to git out of 'er
+blacks? I'm astonished at you, Mrs. Purr, and you an old woman as
+oughter know better. I doubt if you're Bart's granny. I've married into
+an ijit race. Don't talk to me, Mrs. Purr, if you please. Live clean an'
+work 'ard, and there's no trouble with them 'usbands. As 'as to love,
+honor and obey you."&mdash;And she sniffed.</p>
+
+<p>"Them words you 'ave t' saiy," mumbled Mrs. Purr.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Ho," said Deborah, scornfully, "I'd like to see me say 'em to sich a
+scrub as Bart."</p>
+
+<p>But say them she did at the altar, being compelled to do so by the
+vicar. But when the ceremony was over, the newly-made Mrs. Tawsey took
+Bart by the arm and shook him. He was small and lean and of a nervous
+nature, so he quivered like a jelly in his wife's tremendous grip.
+Deborah was really ignorant of her own strength.</p>
+
+<p>"You 'ark to me, Bart," said she, while the best man and bridesmaid
+walked on ahead talking lovingly. "I said them words, which you oughter
+'ave said, 'cause you ain't got no memory t' speak of. But they ain't my
+beliefs, but yours, or I'll know the reason why. Jes' you say them now.
+Swear, without Billingsgate, as you'll allays love, honor an' obey your
+lovin' wife."</p>
+
+<p>Bart, still being shaken, gasped out the words, and then gave his arm to
+the lady who was to rule his life. Deborah kissed him in a loud, hearty
+way, and led him in triumph to the cottage. Here Mrs. Purr had prepared
+a simple meal, and the health of the happy pair was proposed by Paul.
+Mrs. Purr toasted them in gin, and wept as she did so. A dismal, tearful
+old woman was Mrs. Purr, and she was about to open her mouth, in order
+to explain what she thought would come of the marriage, when Mrs. Tawsey
+stopped her.</p>
+
+<p>"None of them groans," cried Deborah, with vigor. "I won't have my
+weddings made funerals. 'Old your tongue, Mrs. Purr, and you, Bart, jes'
+swear to love, honor an' obey my pretty as you would your own lawful
+wife, and the ceremonies is hoff."</p>
+
+<p>Bart performed the request, and then Paul, laughing at the oddity of it
+all, took his leave. On walking to the gate, he was overtaken by Mrs.
+Purr, who winked mysteriously. "Whatever you do, sir," said the lean old
+creature, with many contortions of her
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
+withered face, "don't have nothin' to do with Tray."</p>
+
+<p>"Tray," echoed Paul in surprise. "Mr. Pash's office boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Him and none other. I knows his grandmother, as 'as bin up for drunk
+two hundred times, and is proud of it. Stretchers is as common to her,
+sir, as kissings is to a handsome young gent like you. An' the boy takes
+arter her. A deep young cuss," whispered Granny Purr, significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"But why should I beware of him?" asked Beecot, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"A nod's a wink to a blind 'un," croaked Mrs. Purr, condensing the
+proverb, and turning away. "Jus' leave that brat, Tray, to his own
+wickedness. They'll bring him to the gallers some day."</p>
+
+<p>"But I want to know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well, then, you won't, sir. I ses what I ses, and I ses no more nor
+I oughter say. So good-night, sir," and Mrs. Purr toddled up the
+newly-gravelled path, and entered the cottage, leaving an odor of gin
+behind her.</p>
+
+<p>Beecot had half a mind to follow, so strange was the hint she had given
+him. Apparently, she knew something which connected him with Tray, and
+Paul wondered for the fiftieth time, if the boy had picked up the opal
+brooch. However, he decided to leave the matter alone for the present.
+Mrs. Purr, whom Deborah had engaged to iron, was always available, and
+Paul decided, that should anything point to Tray's being implicated in
+the finding of the opal serpent, that he would hand him over to Hurd,
+who would be better able to deal with such a keen young imp of the
+gutter. Thus making up his mind, Paul dismissed all thought of Mrs.
+Purr's mysterious utterance, and walked briskly to the nearest
+bus-stand, where he took a blue vehicle to the Bloomsbury district. All
+the way to his garret he dreamed of Sylvia, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+poor though was the home he had left her in, he was thankful that she
+was there in the safe shelter of Mrs. Deborah Tawsey's arms.</p>
+
+<p>It was five o'clock when Paul arrived at the door of the stairs leading
+to his attic, and here he was touched on the shoulder by no less a
+person than Mr. Billy Hurd. Only when he spoke did Paul recognize him by
+his voice, for the gentleman who stood before him was not the brown
+individual he knew as the detective. Mr. Hurd was in evening dress, with
+the neatest of patent boots and the tightest of white gloves. He wore a
+brilliantly-polished silk hat, and twirled a gold-headed cane. Also he
+had donned a smart blue cloth overcoat with a velvet collar and cuffs.
+But though his voice was the voice of Hurd, his face was that of quite a
+different person. His hair was dark and worn rather long, his moustache
+black and large, and brushed out <i>&agrave; la Kaiser</i>, and he affected an
+eye-glass as immovable as that of Hay's. Altogether a wonderfully
+changed individual.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurd," said Paul, starting with surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my voice told you. But now&mdash;" he spoke a tone higher in a shrill
+sort of way and with a foreign accent&mdash;"vould you me discover, mon ami?"
+he inquired, with a genuine Parisian shrug.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Why are you masquerading as a Frenchman, Hurd?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not Hurd in this skin, Mr. Beecot. Comte de la Tour, &agrave; votre service,"
+and he presented a thin glazed card with a coronet engraved on it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Count," said Beecot, laughing, "what can I do for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come up to your room," said the pseudo count, mounting the stairs;
+"there's something to be talked over between us."</p>
+
+<p>"No bad news, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my poor friend," said the detective, in his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+usual genial voice, "you have had enough bad news, I am aware. To lose a
+lovely wife and a fine fortune at once. Eh, what a pity!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have lost the money, certainly," said Beecot, lighting his lamp, "but
+the wife will be mine as soon as I can save sufficient to give her a
+better home than this."</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur le Comte de la Tour sat down and gracefully flung open his
+overcoat, so as to expose a spotless shirt front. "What?" he asked,
+lifting his darkened eyebrows, "so you mean to marry that girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Paul, angrily; "do you think I'm a brute?"</p>
+
+<p>"But the money?"</p>
+
+<p>"What does that matter. I love her, not the money."</p>
+
+<p>"And the name. Her birth&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give her my own name and then we'll see who will dare to say a
+word against my wife."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd stretched out his hand, and, grasping that of Beecot's, shook it
+warmly. "Upon my word you are a man, and that's almost better than being
+a gentleman," he said heartily. "I've heard everything from Mr. Pash,
+and I honor you Mr. Beecot&mdash;I honor you."</p>
+
+<p>Paul stared. "You must have been brought up in a queer way, Hurd," he
+said drily, "to express this surprise because a man acts as a man and
+not as a blackguard."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but you see in my profession I have mixed with blackguards, and
+that has lowered my moral tone. It's refreshing to meet a straight,
+honorable man such as you are, Mr. Beecot. I liked you when first I set
+eyes on you, and determined to help you to discover the assassin of
+Aaron Norman&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Lemuel Krill you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"I prefer to call him by the name we both know
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
+best," said Hurd, "but as I was saying, I promised to help you to find
+out who killed the man; now I'll help you to get back the money."</p>
+
+<p>Paul sat down and stared. "What do you mean?" he asked. "The money can't
+be got back. I asked a legal friend of mine, and put the case to him,
+since that monkey of a Pash has thrown us over. My friend said that as
+no name was mentioned in the will, Maud Krill would undoubtedly inherit
+the money. Besides, I learn that the certificate of marriage is all
+right. Mrs. Krill undoubtedly married Aaron Norman under his rightful
+name thirty years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, that's all right," said Hurd, producing a dainty silver
+cigarette case, which was part of his "get-up." "Mrs. Krill is the widow
+of the murdered man, and the silly way in which the will has been made
+gives the five thousand a year to her daughter, whom Mrs. Krill has
+under her thumb. It's all right as I say. But I shouldn't be surprised
+to learn that there were circumstances in Aaron Norman's past life which
+led him to leave his wife, and which may lead Mrs. Krill into buying
+silence by giving Miss Norman half the income. You could live on two
+thousand odd a year, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not obtained in that way," said Beecot, filling his pipe and passing a
+match to Hurd. "If the money comes legally to Sylvia, well and good;
+otherwise she will have nothing to do with it."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd looked round the bleak garret expressively and shrugged his
+shoulders again. "I think you are wrong, Mr. Beecot. You can't bring her
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"No. But I may make enough money to give her a better home."</p>
+
+<p>"Can I help you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see how you can. I want to be an author."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Hurd, whose British speech was in
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
+strange contrast to his foreign appearance, "it's not a bad game to be
+an author if you get a good serial connection. Oh, don't look surprised.
+I know about newspapers and publishers as I know about most things. See
+here, Mr. Beecot, have you ever tried your hand at a detective story?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I write on a higher level."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't write on a more paying level," replied Hurd, coolly. "I know
+a newspaper which will give you&mdash;if I recommend you, mind&mdash;one hundred
+pounds for a good detective yarn. You apply for it."</p>
+
+<p>"But I couldn't make up one of those plots&mdash;so intricate."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh. It's a trick. You set your puppets in such and such a way and
+then mix them up. I'll give you the benefit of my experience as a 'tec,
+and with my plot and your own writing we'll be able to knock up a story
+for the paper I talk of. Then, with one hundred pounds you'll have a
+nest-egg to start with."</p>
+
+<p>"I accept with gratitude," said Beecot, moved, "but I really don't know
+why you should trouble about me."</p>
+
+<p>"Because you're a white man and an honorable gentleman," said the
+detective, emphatically. "I've got a dear little wife of my own, and
+she's something like this poor Miss Norman. Then again, though you
+mightn't think so, I'm something of a Christian, and believe we should
+help others. I had a hard life, Mr. Beecot, before I became a detective,
+and many a time have I learned that prayers can be answered. But this is
+all beside the question," went on Hurd quickly, and with that nervous
+shame with which an Englishman masks the better part of himself. "I'll
+see about the story for you. Meanwhile, I am going to a card-party to
+meet, incidentally, Mr. Grexon Hay."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! You still suspect him?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I do, and with good reason. He's got another mug in tow. Lord George
+Sandal, the son of Lord&mdash;well I needn't mention names, but Hay's trying
+to clear the young ass out, and I'm on the watch. Hay will never know me
+as the Count de la Tour. Not he, smart as he is. I'm fly!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you speak French well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Moderately. But I play a silent part and say little. I shut my mouth
+and open my eyes. But what I came here to say is, that I intend to find
+out the assassin of Aaron Norman."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't offer you a reward, Hurd," said Paul, with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right. The widow, by the advice of Pash, has doubled the
+reward. One thousand pounds it is now&mdash;worth winning, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" said Paul, moodily, "I shouldn't think she loved her husband so
+much as that."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd's brown eyes shot a red flame which showed that he was excited,
+though he was cool enough externally. "Yes," he admitted in a careless
+manner, "she certainly does act the weeping widow in rather an
+exaggerated fashion. However, she's got the cash now&mdash;or at least her
+daughter has, which is the same thing. The two have taken up their
+quarters in a fashionable hotel in the West End, and are looking for a
+house. The old woman manages everything, and she will be one too many
+for Mr. Hay."</p>
+
+<p>"What? Does he know Mrs. Krill? He said he didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right. He didn't when the ladies went first to Pash's office. But
+Hay, on the look-out for a rich wife, got Pash to introduce him to the
+ladies, who were charmed with him. He's making up to the daughter, even
+in the few weeks that have elapsed, and now is assisting them to find a
+house. The daughter loves him I fancy, but whether the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
+mother will allow the marriage to take place I can't say."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely not on such a short acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd bent forward as about to say something, then changed his mind.
+"Really, I don't know&mdash;Hay is fascinating and handsome. Have you been to
+see him yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He asked me, but all these troubles have put him out of my head.
+Why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because next time he invites you, go."</p>
+
+<p>"You warned me against him."</p>
+
+<p>"And I warn you again," said the detective, dryly. "Don't ask me to
+explain, for I can't. But you go to see Hay when he invites you, and
+make yourself agreeable, especially to Mrs. Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I likely to meet her?" asked Paul, with repugnance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I fancy so. After all, you are engaged to the daughter of the dead
+man, and Mrs. Krill&mdash;I don't count Maud, who is a tool&mdash;is a deucedly
+clever woman. She will keep her eye on you and Miss Norman."</p>
+
+<p>"Why? She has the money and need take no further notice."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd closed one eye in a suggestive manner. "Mrs. Krill may not be so
+sure of the money, even though possession is nine points of the law. You
+remember that scrap of paper found by the maid?"</p>
+
+<p>"In which Norman warned Sylvia against allowing his real name to become
+known? Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the letter wasn't finished. The old man was interrupted, I
+suppose. But in the few lines of writing Norman says," here Hurd took a
+scrap of paper&mdash;a copy&mdash;out of his book and read, "'If the name of Krill
+gets into the papers there will be great trouble. Keep it from the
+public, I can tell you where to find the reasons for this as I have
+written'&mdash;and then," said Hurd, refolding the paper,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
+"the writing ends. But you can see that Aaron Norman wrote out an
+account of his reasons, which could not be pleasant for Mrs. Krill to
+hear."</p>
+
+<p>"I still don't understand," said Paul, hopelessly puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the detective, rising and putting on his smart hat, "it's
+rather a muddle, I confess. I have no reason to suspect Mrs. Krill&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, Hurd, you don't think she killed her husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I said that I have no reason to suspect her. But I don't like the
+woman at all. Norman left his wife for some unpleasant reason, and that
+reason, as I verily believe, has something to do with his death. I don't
+say that Mrs. Krill killed him, but I do believe that she knows of
+circumstances which may lead to the detection of the criminal."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case she would save her thousand pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just where it is. If she does know, why does she double the
+reward? A straightforward woman would speak out, but she's a crooked
+sort of creature; I shouldn't like to have her for my enemy."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that you do suspect her," said Paul dryly, but puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shrugged his shoulders. "No, but I'm in a fix, that's a truth,"
+said he, and sauntered towards the door. "I can't see my way. There's
+the clue of Mrs. Krill's past to be followed up, and the hint contained
+in this scrap of paper. The old man may have left a document behind
+likely to solve the whole business. He hints as much here."</p>
+
+<p>"True enough, but nothing was found."</p>
+
+<p>"Then again," went on Hurd, "the request for the jewels to be delivered
+to that sailor chap was in Norman's handwriting and signed with his
+name."</p>
+
+<p>"A forgery."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
+
+<p>"No. Pash, who knows his writing better than any other man, says the
+document is genuine. Now then, Mr. Beecot, what made Aaron Norman write
+and sign those lines giving up his property&mdash;or a part of it&mdash;just
+before his death?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may have been done in good faith."</p>
+
+<p>"No. If so, the messenger would not have cleared out when Pash started
+for Gwynne Street. That nautical gent knew what the lawyer would find at
+the house, and so made himself scarce after trying to get the jewels.
+This scrap of paper," Hurd touched his breast, "and that request for the
+jewels in Pash's possession. Those are my clues."</p>
+
+<p>"And the opal serpent?" asked Paul.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shook his head gloomily. "It's connection with the matter is beyond
+me," he confessed.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">MR. HAY'S LITTLE DINNER</p>
+
+
+<p>The detective was as good as his word. In a few days Paul was introduced
+to the editor of a weekly publication and obtained a commission for a
+story to be written in collaboration with Mr. Hurd. It seemed that the
+editor was an old acquaintance of Hurd's and had been extricated by him
+from some trouble connected with cards. The editor, to show his
+gratitude, and because that Hurd's experiences, thrown into the form of
+a story, could not fail to interest the public, was only too willing to
+make a liberal arrangement. Also Paul was permanently engaged to supply
+short stories, to read those that were submitted to the editor, and, in
+fact, he permanently became that gentleman's right hand. He was a kind,
+beery Bohemian of an editor, Scott by name, and took quite a fancy to
+Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give you three pounds a week," said Scott, beaming through his
+large spectacles and raking his long gray beard with tobacco-stained
+fingers, "you can live on that, and to earn it you can give me your
+opinion on the stories. Then between whiles you can talk to Hurd and
+write this yarn which I am sure will be interesting. Hurd has had some
+queer experiences."</p>
+
+<p>This was quite true. Hurd had ventured on strange waters, but the
+strangest he ever sailed on were those connected with the Gwynne Street
+case. These latter experiences he did not tell to Scott,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
+who was incapable of holding his tongue, and secrecy, as the detective
+impressed on Paul, was absolutely necessary to the conduct of the case.
+"If we keep matters quiet," argued Hurd, "and let those concerned in the
+matter fancy the case has been dropped, we'll be able to throw them off
+their guard, and then they may betray themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would say if you think there is one person or two," said
+Paul, irritably, for his nerves were wearing thin under the strain. "You
+first talk of the assassin and then of the assassins."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," drawled Hurd, smiling, "I'm in the dark, you see, and being only
+a flesh and blood human being, instead of a creation of one of you
+authors, I can only grope in the dark and look in every direction for
+the light. One person, two persons, three, even four may be engaged in
+this affair for all I know. Don't you be in a hurry, Mr. Beecot. I
+believe in that foreign chap's saying, 'Without haste without rest.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Goethe said that."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Goethe is a sensible man, and must have read his Bible. 'Make no
+haste in time of trouble,' says the Scriptures."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good," assented Beecot; "take your own time."</p>
+
+<p>"I intend to," said Hurd, coolly. "Bless you, slow and sure is my motto.
+There's no hurry. You are fixed up with enough to live on, and a
+prospect of making more. Your young lady is happy enough with that
+grenadier of a woman in spite of the humbleness of the home. Mrs. Krill
+and her daughter are enjoying the five thousand a year, and Mr. Grexon
+Hay is fleecing that young ass, Lord George Sandal, as easily as
+possible. I stand by and watch everything. When the time comes I'll
+pounce down on&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Paul, "that's the question. On whom?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
+
+<p>"On one or two or a baker's dozen," rejoined Hurd, calmly. "My chickens
+ain't hatched yet, so I don't count 'em. By the way, is your old
+school-fellow as friendly as ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Why, I can't understand; as he certainly will make no money out of
+me. He's giving a small dinner to-morrow night at his rooms and has
+asked me."</p>
+
+<p>"You go," said the detective, emphatically; "and don't let on you have
+anything to do with me."</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Hurd, I won't play the spy, if you mean that."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean anything of the sort," replied Hurd, earnestly, "but if
+you do chance to meet Mrs. Krill at this dinner, and if she does chance
+to drop a few words about her past, you might let me know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't mind doing that," said Beecot, with relief. "I am as
+anxious to find out the truth about this murder as you are, if not more
+so. The truth, I take it, is to be found in Krill's past, before he took
+the name of Norman. Mrs. Krill will know of that past, and I'll try and
+learn all I can from her. But Hay has nothing to do with the crime, and
+I won't spy on him."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good. Do what you like. But as to Hay, having nothing to do with
+the matter, I still think Hay stole that opal brooch from you when you
+were knocked down."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case Hay must know who killed Norman," cried Paul, excited.</p>
+
+<p>"He just does," rejoined Hurd, calmly; "and now you can understand
+another reason why I take such an interest in that gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"But you can't be certain?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. I am in the dark, as I said before. But Hay is a dangerous
+man and would do anything to rake in the dollars. He has something to do
+with the disappearance of that brooch I am sure, and if
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+so, he knows more than he says. Besides"&mdash;here Hurd
+hesitated&mdash;"No! I'll tell you that later."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something about Hay that will astonish you and make you think he has
+something to do with the crime. Meanwhile, learn all you can from Mrs.
+Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"If I meet her," said Paul, with a shrug.</p>
+
+<p>Undoubtedly Hurd knew more than he was prepared to admit, and not even
+to Paul, staunch as he knew him to be, would he speak confidentially.
+When the time came the detective would speak out. At present he held his
+tongue and moved in clouds like a Homeric deity. But his eyes were on
+all those connected with the late Aaron Norman, indirectly or directly,
+although each and every one of them were unaware of the scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>Paul had no scruples in learning all he could from Mrs. Krill. He did
+not think that she had killed her husband, and probably might be
+ignorant of the person or persons who had slain the poor wretch in so
+cruel a manner. But the motive of the crime was to be found in Norman's
+past, and Mrs. Krill knew all about this. Therefore, Paul was very
+pleased when he found that Mrs. Krill and her daughter were the guests
+at the little dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Hay's rooms were large and luxuriously furnished. In effect, he occupied
+a small flat in the house of an ex-butler, and had furnished the place
+himself in a Sybarite fashion. The ex-butler and his wife and servants
+looked after Hay, and in addition, that languid gentleman possessed a
+slim valet, with a sly face, who looked as though he knew more than was
+good for him. Indeed, the whole atmosphere of the rooms was shady and
+fast, and Paul, simple young fellow as he was, felt the bad influence
+the moment he stepped into the tiny drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>This was furnished daintily and with great taste in
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+color and furnishing. It was more like a woman's room, and Mr. Hay had
+spared no cost in making it pleasing to the eye and comfortable to the
+body. The prevailing tone was pale yellow, and the electric light
+suffused itself through lemon-shaded globes. The Louis Quinze furniture
+was upholstered in primrose, and there were many Persian praying mats
+and Eastern draperies about the place. Water-color pictures decked the
+walls, and numerous mirrors reflected the dainty, pretty apartment. A
+brisk fire was burning, although the evening was not cold, and
+everything looked delightfully pleasant. Paul could not help contrasting
+all this luxury and taste with his bare garret. But with Sylvia's love
+to warm his heart, he would not have changed places with Grexon Hay for
+all his splendor.</p>
+
+<p>Two ladies were seated by the fire. Mrs. Krill in black, majestic and
+calm as usual. She wore diamonds on her breast and jewelled stars in her
+gray hair. Although not young, she was a wonderfully well-preserved
+woman, and her arms and neck were white, gleaming and beautifully
+shaped. From the top of her head to the sole of her rather large but
+well-shod foot, she was dressed to perfection, and waved a languid fan
+as she welcomed Paul, who was presented to her by the host. "I am glad
+to see you, Mr. Beecot," she said in her deep voice; "we had rather an
+unhappy interview when last we met. How is Miss Norman?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is quite well," replied Paul, in as cordial a tone as he could
+command. For the sake of learning what he could, he wished to be
+amiable, but it was difficult when he reflected that this large, suave,
+smiling woman had robbed Sylvia of a fortune and had spoken of her in a
+contemptuous way. But Beecot, swallowing down his pride, held his little
+candle to the devil without revealing his repugnance too openly. And
+apparently Mrs. Krill believed that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
+his composure was genuine enough, for she was quite at her ease in his
+presence.</p>
+
+<p>The daughter was dressed like the mother, save that she wore pearls in
+place of diamonds. She talked but little, as usual, and sat smiling, the
+young image of the older woman. Hay also introduced Paul to a handsome
+young fellow of twenty-one with rather a feeble face. This was Lord
+George Sandal, the pigeon Hay was plucking, and although he had charming
+manners and an assumption of worldly wisdom, he was evidently one of
+those who had come into the world saddled and bridled for other folk's
+riding.</p>
+
+<p>A third lady was also present, who called herself Aurora Qian, and Hay
+informed his friend in a whisper that she was an actress. Paul then
+remembered that he had seen her name in the papers as famous in light
+comedy. She was pretty and kittenish, with fluffy hair and an eternal
+smile. It was impossible to imagine a greater contrast to the massive
+firmness of Mrs. Krill than the lively, girlish demeanor of the little
+woman, yet Paul had an instinct that Miss Qian, in spite of her
+profession and odd name and childish giggle, was a more shrewd person
+than she looked. Everyone was bright and merry and chatty: all save Maud
+Krill who smiled and fanned herself in a statuesque way. Hay paid her
+great attention, and Paul knew very well that he intended to marry the
+silent woman for her money. It would be hardly earned he thought, with
+such a firm-looking mother-in-law as Mrs. Krill would certainly prove to
+be.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner was delightful, well cooked, daintily served, and leisurely
+eaten. A red-shaded lamp threw a rosy light on the white cloth, the
+glittering crystal and bright silver. The number of diners was less than
+the Muses, and more than the Graces, and everyone laid himself or
+herself out to make things
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
+bright. And again Maud Krill may be mentioned as an exception. She ate
+well and held her tongue, merely smiling heavily when addressed. Paul,
+glancing at her serene face across the rosy-hued table, wondered if she
+really was as calm as she looked, and if she really lacked the brain
+power her mother seemed to possess.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to see you here, Beecot," said Hay, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad to be here," said Paul, adapting himself to
+circumstances, "especially in such pleasant company."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't go out much," said Lord George.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am a poor author who has yet to win his spurs."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of being an author myself," said the young man, "but it was
+such a fag to think about things."</p>
+
+<p>"You want your material supplied to you perhaps," put in Mrs. Krill in a
+calm, contemptuous way.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! If I wrote stories like the author johnnies I'd rake up my
+family history. There's lots of fun there."</p>
+
+<p>"Your family mightn't like it," giggled Miss Qian. "I know lots of
+things about my own people which would read delightfully if Mr. Beecot
+set them down, but then&mdash;" she shrugged her dainty shoulders, "oh, dear
+me, what a row there would be!"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose there is a skeleton in every cupboard," said Hay, suavely,
+and quite ignoring the shady tenant in his own.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a whole dozen cupboards with skeletons to match in my family,"
+said the young lord. "Why, I had an aunt, Lady Rachel Sandal, who was
+murdered over twenty years ago. Now," he said, looking triumphantly
+round the table, "which of you can say there's a murder in your
+family&mdash;eh, ladies and gentlemen?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+
+<p>Paul glanced sideways at Mrs. Krill, wondering what she would say, and
+wondering also how it was that Lord George did not know she was the
+widow of the murdered Lemuel Krill, whose name had been so widely
+advertised. But Hay spoke before anyone could make a remark. "What an
+unpleasant subject," he said, with a pretended shudder, "let us talk of
+less melodramatic things."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, why," said Mrs. Krill, using her fan. "I rather like to hear about
+murders."</p>
+
+<p>Lord George looked oddly at her, and seemed about to speak. Paul thought
+for the moment that he did know about the Gwynne Street crime and
+intended to remark thereon. But if so his good taste told him that he
+would be ill-advised to speak and he turned to ask for another glass of
+wine. Miss Aurora Qian looked in her pretty shrewd way from one to the
+other. "I just love the Newgate Calendar," she said, clasping her hands.
+"There's lovely plots for dramas to be found there. Don't you think so,
+Mr. Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't read that sort of literature, Miss Qian."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, then you don't know what people are capable of in the way of
+cruelty, Mr. Beecot."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to know," retorted Paul, finding the subject distasteful
+and wondering why the actress pressed it, as she undoubtedly did. "I
+prefer to write stories to elevate the mind."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Qian made a grimace and shot a meaning look at him. "It doesn't
+pay," she said, tittering, "and money is what we all want."</p>
+
+<p>"I fear I don't care for money overmuch."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mrs. Krill to him in an undertone, "I know that from the way
+you spoke in Mr. Pash's office."</p>
+
+<p>"I was standing up for the rights of another."</p>
+
+<p>"You will be rewarded," she replied meaningly, but what she did mean
+Paul could not understand.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
+
+<p>The rest of the dinner passed off well enough, as the subject was
+changed. Lord George began to talk of racing, and Hay responded. Mrs.
+Krill alone seemed shocked. "I don't believe in gambling," she said
+icily.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you are not very down on it," said Hay. "Lord George and I
+propose to play bridge with you ladies in the next room."</p>
+
+<p>"Maud can play and Miss Qian," said the widow. "I'll talk to Mr. Beecot,
+unless he prefers the fascination of the green cloth."</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather talk to you," replied Paul, bowing.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill nodded, and then went out of the room with the younger
+ladies. The three gentlemen filled their glasses with port, and Hay
+passed round a box of cigars. Soon they were smoking and chatting, in a
+most amicable fashion. Lord George talked a great deal about racing and
+cards, and his bad luck with both. Hay said very little and every now
+and then cast a glance at Paul, to see how he was taking the
+conversation. At length, when Sandal became a trifle vehement on the
+subject of his losses, Hay abruptly changed the subject, by refilling
+his glass and those of his companions. "I want you to drink to the
+health of my future bride," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What," cried Paul, staring, "Miss Krill?"</p>
+
+<p>"The same," responded Hay, coldly. "You see I have taken your advice and
+intend to settle. Pash presented me to the ladies when next they came to
+his office, and since then I have been almost constantly with them. Miss
+Krill's affections were disengaged, and she, therefore, with her
+mother's consent, became my promised wife."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you joy," said Lord George, draining his glass and filling
+another, "and, by Jove! for your sake, I hope she's got money."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, she's well off," said Hay, calmly, "and you, Paul?"</p>
+
+<p>"I congratulate you, of course," stammered Beecot, dazed; "but it's so
+sudden. You haven't known her above a month."</p>
+
+<p>"Five weeks or so," said Hay, smiling, and sinking his voice lower, he
+added, "I can't afford to let grass grow under my feet. This young ass
+here might snap her up, and Mrs. Krill would only be too glad to secure
+a title for Maud."</p>
+
+<p>"I say," said Lord George suddenly, and waking from a brown study, "who
+is Mrs. Krill? I've heard the name."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not an uncommon name," said Hay, untruthfully and quickly. "She is
+a rich widow who has lately come to London."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did she come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you that. From the wilds of Yorkshire I believe. You had
+better ask her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by Jove, no, I wouldn't be so rude. But I seem to know the name."
+Paul privately thought that if he read the papers, he ought certainly to
+know the name, and he was on the point of making, perhaps an injudicious
+remark, but Hay pointedly looked at him in such a meaning way, that he
+held his tongue. More, when they left their wine for the society of the
+ladies, Hay squeezed his friend's arm in the passage.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention the death," he said, using a politer word by preference.
+"Sandal doesn't connect Mrs. Krill with the dead man. She wants to live
+the matter down."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case she ought to leave London for a time."</p>
+
+<p>"She intends to. When I make Maud my wife, we will travel with her
+mother for a year or two, until the scandal of the murder blows over.
+Luckily the name of Lemuel Krill was not mentioned often
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
+in the papers, and Sandal hasn't seen a hand-bill that I know of. I
+suppose you agree with me that silence is judicious?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," assented Paul, "I think it is."</p>
+
+<p>"And you congratulate me on my approaching marriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Now, perhaps, you will live like Falstaff when he was made a
+knight."</p>
+
+<p>Hay did not understand the allusion and looked puzzled. However, he had
+no time to say more, as they entered the drawing-room. Almost as soon as
+they did, Mrs. Krill summoned Paul to her side.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," she said, "let us talk of Miss Norman."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">A NEW CLUE</p>
+
+
+<p>"I don't wish to talk of Miss Norman," said Paul, bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you can be no true lover," retorted the widow.</p>
+
+<p>"I disagree with you. A true lover does not talk to all and sundry
+concerning the most sacred feelings of his heart. Moreover, your remarks
+at our last meeting were not to my taste."</p>
+
+<p>"I apologize," said Mrs. Krill, promptly, "and will not offend in that
+way again. I did not know you then, but since Mr. Hay has spoken about
+you to me, I know and appreciate you, Mr. Beecot."</p>
+
+<p>But Paul was not to be cajoled in this manner. The more suave the woman
+was, the more he felt inclined to be on his guard, and he very wisely
+obeyed the prompting of his instinct. "I fear you do <i>not</i> know me, Mrs.
+Krill," said he as coldly as Hay could have spoken, "else you would
+hardly ask me to discuss with you, of all people, the lady whom I intend
+to make my wife."</p>
+
+<p>"You are rather a difficult man to deal with," she replied, drawing her
+thick white eyebrows together. "But I like difficult men. That is why I
+admire Mr. Hay: he is not a silly, useless butterfly like that young
+lord there."</p>
+
+<p>"Silly he is not, but I doubt his being useful. So far as I can see Hay
+looks after himself and nobody else."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
+
+<p>"He proposes to look after my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"So I understand," replied Beecot, politely, "but that is a matter
+entirely for your own consideration."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill still continued to smile in her placid way, but she was
+rather nonplussed all the same. From the appearance of Beecot, she had
+argued that he was one of those many men she could twist round her
+finger. But he seemed to be less easily guided than she expected, and
+for the moment she was silent, letting her hard eyes wander towards the
+card-table, round which sat the four playing an eager and engrossing
+game of bridge. "You don't approve of that perhaps?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Paul, calmly, "I certainly do not."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a Puritan may I ask?"</p>
+
+<p>Beecot shook his head and laughed. "I am a simple man, who tries to do
+his duty in this world," said he, "and who very often finds it difficult
+to do that same duty."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you define duty, Mr. Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are becoming ethical," said Paul, with a smile. "I don't know that I
+am prepared with an answer at present."</p>
+
+<p>"Then the next time we meet. For I hope," said Mrs. Krill, smoothing her
+face to a smile&mdash;it had grown rather sombre&mdash;"that we shall often meet
+again. You must come and see us. We have taken a house in Kensington."</p>
+
+<p>"Chosen by Mr. Hay?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! He is our mentor in London Society. I don't think," added Mrs.
+Krill, studying his face, "that you like Mr. Hay."</p>
+
+<p>"As I am Mr. Hay's guest," said Paul, dryly, "that is rather an unkind
+question to ask."</p>
+
+<p>"I asked no question. I simply make a statement."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot found the conversation rather embarrassing. In place of his
+pumping Mrs. Krill, she was trying
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
+to pump him, which reversal of his design he by no means approved of. He
+changed the subject of conversation by drawing a powerfully attractive
+red herring across the trail. "You wish to speak to me about Miss
+Norman," he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"I do," answered Mrs. Krill, who saw through his design, "but apparently
+that subject is as distasteful as a discussion about Mr. Hay."</p>
+
+<p>"Both subjects are rather personal, I admit, Mrs. Krill. However, if you
+have anything to tell me, which you would like Miss Norman to hear, I am
+willing to listen."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Now you are more reasonable," she answered in a pleased tone. "It
+is simply this, Mr. Beecot: I am very sorry for the girl. Through no
+fault of her own, she is placed in a difficult position. I cannot give
+her a name, since her father sinned against her as he sinned in another
+way against me, but I can&mdash;through my daughter, who is guided by
+me&mdash;give her an income. It does not seem right that I should have all
+this money&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That your daughter should have all this money," interpolated Beecot.</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter and I are one," replied Mrs. Krill, calmly; "when I speak
+for myself, I speak for her. But, as I say, it doesn't seem right we
+should be in affluence and Miss Norman in poverty. So I propose to allow
+her five hundred a year&mdash;on conditions. Will she accept, do you think,
+Mr. Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think her acceptance would depend upon the conditions."</p>
+
+<p>"They are very simple," said Mrs. Krill in her deep tones, and looking
+very straightly at Paul. "She is to marry you and go to America."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot's face did not change, since her hard eyes were on it. But he was
+puzzled under his mask of indifference. Why did this woman want Sylvia
+to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
+marry him, and go into exile? He temporized. "With regard to your wish
+that Miss Norman should marry me," said he, quietly, "it is of course
+very good of you to interest yourself in the matter. I fail to
+understand your reason, however."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet the reason is patent," rejoined Mrs. Krill, just as quietly and
+quite as watchful as before. "Sylvia Norman is a young girl without much
+character&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In that I disagree with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let us admit she has character, but she certainly has no
+experience. In the world, she is exposed to much trouble and, perhaps,
+may be, to temptation. Since her position is the fault of her father,
+and she is entirely innocent, I want her to have a happy life. For that
+reason I wish her to marry you."</p>
+
+<p>Paul bowed, not believing a word of this philanthropic speech. "Again, I
+say it is good of you," said he with some irony; "but even were I out of
+the way, her nurse, Deborah Tawsey, would look after her. As matters
+stand, however, she will certainly become my wife as soon as we can
+afford a home."</p>
+
+<p>"You can afford it to-morrow," said Mrs. Krill, eagerly, "if you will
+accept my offer."</p>
+
+<p>"A home in America," said Paul, "and why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think both of you would like to be away from a place where you
+have seen such a tragedy."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed." Paul committed himself to no opinion. "And, supposing we
+accept your offer, which I admit is a generous one, you suggest we
+should go to the States."</p>
+
+<p>"Or to Canada, or Australia, or&mdash;in fact&mdash;you can go anywhere, so long
+as you leave England. I tell you, Mr. Beecot, even at the risk of
+hurting your feelings, that I want that girl away from London. My
+husband treated me very badly&mdash;he was a brute
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
+always&mdash;and I hate to have that girl before my eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet she is innocent."</p>
+
+<p>"Have I not said that a dozen times," rejoined Mrs. Krill, impatiently.
+"What is the use of further discussion. Do you accept my offer?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will convey it to Miss Norman. It is for her to decide."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have the right since you are to be her husband."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, no. I would never take such a responsibility on me. I shall
+tell Miss Norman what you say, and convey her answer to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. But she was annoyed that her
+golden bait had not been taken immediately, and, in spite of her
+suavity, Paul could see that she was annoyed, the more so when she began
+to explain. "Of course you understand my feelings."</p>
+
+<p>"I confess I don't quite. Naturally, the fact that you are connected
+with the murder in the public eyes&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," said the woman, swiftly, "but I am not. The name of Krill
+has hardly been noticed. The public know that Aaron Norman was murdered.
+No one talks of Lemuel Krill, or thinks that I am the widow of the
+murdered man. Possibly I may come across some people who will connect
+the two names, and look askance at me, but the majority of people&mdash;such
+as Lord George there," she pointed with her fan, "do not think of me in
+the way you say. As he did, they will think they remember the name&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord George did not say that to you," said Paul, swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>"No. But he did to Mr. Hay, who told me," rejoined Mrs. Krill, quite as
+swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>"To-night?" asked Beecot, remembering that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>
+Hay had not spoken privately to Mrs. Krill since they came in from the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no&mdash;on another occasion. Lord George has several times said that he
+has a faint recollection of my name. Possibly the connection between me
+and the murder may occur to his mind, but he is really so very stupid
+that I hope he will forget all about the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder you don't change your name," said Paul, looking at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, unless public opinion forces me to change it," she said
+defiantly. "My life has always been perfectly open and above board, not
+like that of my husband."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did he change his name?" asked Beecot, eagerly&mdash;too eagerly, in
+fact, for she drew back.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask?" she inquired coldly.</p>
+
+<p>Paul shrugged his shoulders. "An idle question, Mrs. Krill. I have no
+wish to force your confidence."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no forcing in the matter," responded the woman. "I have taken
+quite a fancy to you, Mr. Beecot, and you shall know what I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray do not tell me if you would rather not."</p>
+
+<p>"But I would rather," said Mrs. Krill, bluntly; "it will prevent your
+misconception of anything you may hear about us. My husband's real name
+was Lemuel Krill, and he married me thirty years ago. I will be frank
+with you and admit that neither of us were gentlefolks. We kept a
+public-house on the outskirts of Christchurch in Hants, called 'The Red
+Pig.'" She looked anxiously at him as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"A strange name."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you never heard of it before?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Had I heard the name it would have remained in my memory, from its
+oddity."</p>
+
+<p>Paul might have been mistaken, but Mrs. Krill certainly seemed relieved.
+Yet if she had anything
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>
+to conceal in connection with "The Red Pig," why should she have
+mentioned the name.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not a first-class hotel," she went on smoothly, and again with
+her false smile. "We had only farm laborers and such like as customers.
+But the custom was good, and we did very well. Then my husband took to
+drink."</p>
+
+<p>"In that respect he must have changed," said Paul, quickly, "for all the
+time I knew him&mdash;six months it was&mdash;I never saw him the worse for drink,
+and I certainly never heard from those who would be likely to know that
+he indulged in alcohol to excess. All the same," added Paul, with an
+after-thought of his conversation with Sylvia in the Embankment garden,
+"I fancied, from his pale face and shaking hands, and a tightness of the
+skin, that he might drink."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. He did. He drank brandy in large quantities, and, strange to
+say, he never got drunk."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean exactly?" asked Beecot, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mrs. Krill, biting the top of her fan and looking over it,
+"Lemuel&mdash;I'll call him by the old name&mdash;never grew red in the face, and
+even after years of drinking he never showed any signs of intemperance.
+Certainly his hands would shake at times, but I never noticed
+particularly the tightness of the skin you talk of."</p>
+
+<p>"A certain shiny look," explained Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. I never noticed it. But he never got drunk so as to lose his
+head or his balance," went on Mrs. Krill; "but he became a demon."</p>
+
+<p>"A demon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the woman, emphatically, "as a rule he was a timid, nervous,
+little man, like a frightened rabbit, and would not harm a fly. But
+drink, as you know, changes a nature to the contrary of what it actually
+is."</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard that."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>
+
+<p>"You would have seen an example in Lemuel," she retorted. "When he drank
+brandy, he became a king, a sultan. From being timid he became bold;
+from not harming anyone he was capable of murder. Often in his fits did
+he lay violent hands on me. But I managed to escape. When sober, he
+would moan and apologize in a provokingly tearful manner. I hated and
+despised him," she went on, with flashing eyes, but careful to keep her
+voice from reaching the gamblers. "I was a fool to marry him. My father
+was a farmer, and I had a good education. I was attracted by the good
+looks of Lemuel, and ran away with him from my father's farm in
+Buckinghamshire."</p>
+
+<p>"That's where Stowley is," murmured Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Stowley?" echoed Mrs. Krill, whose ears were very sharp. "Yes, I know
+that town. Why do you mention it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The opal serpent brooch with which your husband's lips were fastened
+was pawned there."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember," said Mrs. Krill, calmly. "Mr. Pash told me. It has never
+been found out how the brooch came to fasten the lips&mdash;so horrible it
+was," she shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"No. My father bought the brooch from the Stowley pawnbroker, and gave
+it to my mother, who sent it to me. When I had an accident, I lost it,
+but who picked it up I can't say."</p>
+
+<p>"The assassin must have picked it up," declared Mrs. Krill, decisively,
+"else it would not have been used in that cruel way; though why such a
+brooch should have been used at all I can't understand. I suppose my
+husband did not tell you why he wanted to buy the brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you that he did?" asked Paul, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Pash. He told me all about the matter, but not the reason why my
+husband wanted the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"Pash doesn't know," said Beecot, "nor do
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>
+I. Your husband fainted when I first showed him the brooch, but I don't
+know why. He said nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Again Mrs. Krill's face in spite of her care showed a sense of relief at
+his ignorance. "But I must get back to my story," she said, in a hard
+tone, "we have to leave soon. I ran away with Lemuel who was then
+travelling with jewellery. He knew a good deal about jewellery, you
+know, which he turned to account in his pawnbroking."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and amassed a fortune, thereby."</p>
+
+<p>"I should never have credited him with so much sense," said Mrs. Krill,
+contemptuously. "While at Christchurch he was nothing but a drunkard,
+whining when sober, and a furious beast when drunk. I managed all the
+house, and looked after my little daughter. Lemuel led me a dog's life,
+and we quarrelled incessantly. At length, when Maud was old enough to be
+my companion, Lemuel ran away. I kept on 'The Red Pig,' and waited for
+him to return. But he never came back, and for over twenty years I heard
+nothing of him till I saw the hand-bills and his portrait, and heard of
+his death. Then I came to see Mr. Pash, and the rest you know."</p>
+
+<p>"But why did he run away?" asked Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he grew weary of the life and the way I detested him," was
+her reply. "I don't wonder he ran away. But there, I have told you all,
+so make what you can of it. Tell Miss Norman of my offer, and make her
+see the wisdom of accepting it. And now"&mdash;she rose, and held out her
+hand&mdash;"I must run away. You will call and see us? Mr. Hay will give you
+the address."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that," said Hay, leaving the card-table, "does Beecot want your
+address? Certainly." He went to a table and scribbled on a card. "There
+you are. Hunter Street, Kensington, No. 32<span class="smcap">A</span>. Do come, Beecot. I hope
+soon to call on your services to be
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>
+my best man," and he cast a coldly loving look on Maud, who simply
+smiled as usual.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the card-party had broken up. Maud had lost a few pounds,
+and Lord George a great deal. But Miss Qian and Hay had won.</p>
+
+<p>"What luck," groaned the young lord. "Everything seems to go wrong with
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop and we'll try another game when the ladies have gone," suggested
+Hay, his impassive face lighting up, "then Beecot&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I must go," said the young gentleman, who did not wish to be called
+upon as a witness in a possible card scandal.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll go too," said Lord George. "Whenever I play with you, Hay, I
+always seem to lose."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by that?" asked Grexon, fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he doesn't mean anything," said Miss Qian, sweetly, and putting her
+cloak round her. "Mr. Beecot, just take me to my cab."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take you to your carriage," said Hay, offering an arm to Mrs.
+Krill, which she accepted graciously.</p>
+
+<p>Lord George followed, grumbling, with the ever-smiling Maud. Miss Qian
+skipped into a hansom, and offered Paul a drive back to town which he
+refused. As the cab was driving off she bent down and whispered, "Be
+careful," with a side-glance at Hay.</p>
+
+<p>Paul laughed. Everyone seemed to doubt Hay. But that gentleman handed
+Mrs. Krill and her daughter into their carriage, and looked towards Lord
+George. "You don't want your revenge to-night?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, confound you!" said the young man, sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case I'll drive into Kensington with Mrs. Krill, and borrow her
+carriage for a trip to Piccadilly. Good-night, Sandal. Good-night,
+Beecot."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
+
+<p>He waved his hand, and the ladies waved theirs, and then the three drove
+away. Lord George lighted a cigar, and putting his arm within that of
+Beecot, strolled down the road. "Come to my club," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you," answered Paul, politely, "I must get home."</p>
+
+<p>"But I wish you'd come. I hate being by myself and you seem such a good
+sort of chap."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Beecot, thinking he might say a word in season to this
+young fool, "I don't gamble."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you cry down that, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think it's foolish."</p>
+
+<p>"It is," assented Lord George, frankly, "infernally foolish. And Hay has
+all the luck. I wonder if he plays square."</p>
+
+<p>This was dangerous ground, and Paul shied. "I really can't say," he said
+coldly, "I don't play cards."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you know of Hay?" asked Sandal.</p>
+
+<p>"Only that he was at school with me at Torrington. We met by accident
+the other day, and he asked me to dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Torrington. Yes. I had a brother at that school once," said Lord
+George, "but you and Hay wouldn't get on well together, I should think.
+You're straight, and he's&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You forget, we have been dining with him," said Paul, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"What of that. I've dined often and have paid pretty dearly for the
+privilege. I must have lost at least five thousand to him within the
+last few months."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case I should advise you to play cards no more. The remedy is
+easy," said Paul, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't so easy to leave off cards," rejoined Sandal, gloomily. "I'm
+that fond of gambling that I only
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
+seem to live when I've got the cards or dice in my hand. I suppose it's
+like dram-drinking."</p>
+
+<p>"If you take my advice, Lord George, you'll give up card-playing."</p>
+
+<p>"With Hay, do you mean?" asked the other, shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"With anyone. I know nothing about Hay beyond what I have told you."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph," said Sandal, "I don't think you're a chap like him at all. I
+may look a fool, but I ain't, and can see through a brick wall same as
+most Johnnies."</p>
+
+<p>"Who can't see at all," interpolated Paul, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! ha! that's good. But I say about this Hay. What a queer lot he had
+there to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't discuss that," said Paul, stiffly. He was not one to eat a
+man's bread and salt and then betray him.</p>
+
+<p>Sandal went on as though he hadn't heard him. "That actress is a jolly
+little woman," said he. "I've seen her at the Frivolity&mdash;a ripping fine
+singer and dancer she is. But those other ladies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. and Miss Krill."</p>
+
+<p>The young lord stopped short in the High Street. "Where have I heard
+that name?" he said, looking up to the stars; "somewhere&mdash;in the country
+maybe. I go down sometimes to the Hall&mdash;my father's place. I don't
+suppose you'd know it. It's three miles from Christchurch."</p>
+
+<p>"In Hants," said Paul, feeling he was on the verge of a discovery.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Have you been there?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. But I have heard of the place. There's an hotel there called 'The
+Red Pig,' which I thought&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" cried young Sandal, stopping again, and with such a shout that
+passers-by thought he was drunk. "I remember the name. 'The Red Pig'; a
+woman called Krill kept that."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
+
+<p>"She can hardly be the same," said Paul, not wishing to betray the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I guess not. She'd hardly have the cheek to sit down with me if she
+did. But Krill. Yes, I remember&mdash;my aunt, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Your aunt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Sandal, impatiently, "she was murdered, or committed suicide
+in that 'Red Pig' place. Rachel Sandal&mdash;with her unlucky opals."</p>
+
+<p>"Her unlucky opals! What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, she had a serpent set with opals she wore as a brooch, and it
+brought her bad luck."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">Sylvia's theory</p>
+
+
+<p>It was close upon midnight when Paul reached his garret. Sandal drove
+him in a hansom as far as Piccadilly Circus, and from that place Beecot
+walked through Oxford Street to Bloomsbury. He had not been able to
+extract further information of any importance from the young lord. It
+appeared that Lady Rachel Sandal, in love with an inferior, had
+quarrelled with her father, and had walked to Christchurch one night
+with the intention of joining the man she wished to marry in London. But
+the night was stormy and Lady Rachel was a frail woman. She took refuge
+in "The Red Pig," intending to go the next morning. But during the night
+she was found strangled in the bedroom she had hired. Sandal could give
+no details, as the events happened before he was born, and he had only
+heard scraps of the dreadful story.</p>
+
+<p>"Some people say Lady Rachel was murdered," explained Sandal, "and
+others that she killed herself. But the opal brooch, which she wore,
+certainly disappeared. But there was such a scandal over the affair that
+my grandfather hushed it up. I can't say exactly what took place. But I
+know it happened at a small pub kept by a woman called Krill. Do you
+think this woman is the same?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's hardly likely," said Paul, mendaciously. "How could a woman who
+kept a small public house become suddenly rich?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>
+
+<p>"True," answered Lord George, as they stopped in the Circus, "and she'd
+have let on she knew about my name had she anything to do with the
+matter. All the same, I'll ask her."</p>
+
+<p>"Do so," said Paul, stepping out of the cab. He was perfectly satisfied
+that Mrs. Krill was quite equal to deceiving Sandal. The wonder was,
+that she had not held her peace to him about "The Red Pig."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't come on to my club?" asked Sandal, leaning out of the cab.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you," replied Paul. "Good-night," and he walked away.</p>
+
+<p>The fact is Beecot wished to put on paper all that he had heard that
+night and send it to Hurd. As soon as he reached his attic he set to
+work and wrote out a detailed account of the evening.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"You might find out if Lady Rachel committed suicide or whether she
+was strangled by someone else," ended Beecot. "Certainly the
+mention of the serpent brooch is curious. This may be the event in
+Norman's past life which led him to change his name." </p></div>
+
+<p>Paul wrote much more and then went out to post the letter. It was after
+midnight when he did, so there was not much chance of Hurd getting the
+letter before the second or third post the next day. But Paul felt that
+he had done his duty, and had supplied the information as speedily as
+possible, so he went to sleep with a quiet mind, in spite of the
+excitement of the evening. But next morning he was unable to sit down to
+his desk as usual, and felt disinclined to go to the newspaper office,
+so he walked to Jubileetown to see how Sylvia was getting along. Deborah
+met him at the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Well I never, Mr. Beecot," said Mrs. Tawsey, with her red arms akimbo
+in her usual attitude; "this is a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
+sight for sore eyes. Won't my pretty be 'appy this day, say what you
+may. She's a-makin' out bills fur them as 'ad washin' done, bless her
+'eart for a clever beauty."</p>
+
+<p>"How is business?" asked Paul, entering the gate, which Deborah opened.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless you, Mr. Beecot, I'll be a lady of forting soon," answered the
+proprietress of the laundry, "the way washing 'ave come in is jest
+amazin'. One 'ud think folk never 'ad no linen done up afore, and that
+they never did 'ave," said Deborah, rubbing her nose hard, "in my way,
+which <i>is</i> a way. If you'd only send along your shirts, Mr. Beecot, I'd
+be proud to show you what can be done with fronts, an' no thumbnails
+down them to spile their loveliness."</p>
+
+<p>Paul did not reply to this, but laughed absently. He was wondering if
+Deborah had ever heard her master drop any hint as to his having come
+from the place where Mrs. Krill resided, and asked the question on the
+spur of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know Christchurch in Hants?"</p>
+
+<p>Deborah rubbed her nose harder and looked at him doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Me as said as I'd no relatives must tell the truth now, as I 'ave,"
+said she rather incoherently, "for my sister, Tilly Junk, worked for
+someone in that there place for years. But we never got on well, she
+being upsettin' and masterful, so arsk her to my weddin' I didn't, and
+denied relatives existing, which they do, she bein' alive ten years ago
+when she larst wrote."</p>
+
+<p>"You have not heard from her since?" asked Paul, inquisitively.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, you may burn me or prison me or put me in pillaries," said Mrs.
+Tawsey, "but deceive you I won't. Me an' Tilly not bein' of 'appy
+matchin' don't correspond. We're Londing both," exclaimed Deborah,
+"father 'avin' bin a 'awker, but why she went to the country, or why I
+stopped in Gwynne Street, no one
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
+knows. And may I arsk, Mr. Beecot, why you arsk of that place?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your late master came from Christchurch, Mrs. Tawsey. Did you never
+hear him mention it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I never did, for close he was, Mr. Beecot, say what you like. I
+never knowed but what he'd pawned and sold them bookses all his blessed
+life, for all the talkin' he did. If I'd ha' knowd," added Deborah,
+lifting her red finger, "as he'd bin maried afore and intended to cast
+out my lovely queen, I'd ha' strangled him myself."</p>
+
+<p>"He had no intention of casting out Sylvia," said Paul, musingly; "he
+certainly left the money to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why 'ave that other got it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sylvia's name wasn't mentioned, and Miss Krill is legally entitled as
+the legitimate daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Call her what you like, she's a cat as her mother is afore her," said
+Mrs. Tawsey, indignantly, "and not young at that. Thirty and over, as
+I'm a livin' woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't think Miss Krill is as old as that."</p>
+
+<p>"Being a man you wouldn't, sir, men bein' blind to wrinklings and paint.
+But paint she do, the hussey, and young she ain't. Over thirty&mdash;if I die
+for the sayin' of it."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mrs. Krill was married to your master only thirty years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Then more shame to 'er," snapped Deborah, masterfully; "for she ain't
+an honest woman if the signs of age is believing. Will I write to my
+sister Tilly, as I don't love Mr. Beecot, and arsk if she knowed master
+when he wos in that there place, which she can't 'ave, seeing she's bin
+there but ten year, and he away twenty?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Deborah, you'd better say nothing. The case is in Hurd's hands.
+I'll tell him what you say, and leave the matter to him. But you must be
+deceived about Miss Krill's age."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I've got two eyes an' a nose," retorted Mrs. Tawsey, "so don't talk of
+deceivin's. Thirty and more she is, the hussey, let her Jezebel of a mar
+lie as she like, an' can say what you will, Mr. Beecot. But there's my
+pretty smilin' from the winder and the tub's a-waitin'; so you go in and
+smooth 'er to affections, while I see that Mrs. Purr irons the shirts,
+which she do lovely there's no denyin'. Hoh!" and Deborah plunged round
+the corner of the house, rampant and full of corn.</p>
+
+<p>Paul walked through the newly-created garden, in which he saw many
+proofs of Sylvia's love for flowers, and reached the door in time to
+take the girl in his arms. She was flushed and joyful, and her eyes were
+as bright as stars. "Paul, darling," she said, as they entered the
+sitting-room, where she was struggling with the accounts, "I'm so glad
+you are here. What's nine times nine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eighty-one," said Paul, looking at the long list of figures Sylvia had
+been trying to add up. "Why do you make your head ache with these
+accounts, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must help Debby, Paul, and I get on very well with the aid of an
+arithmetic." And she pointed to a small school book which she had
+evidently been studying.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me take the burden from your shoulders," said her lover, smiling,
+and sat down at the table which was strewn with bills. In about an hour
+he had arranged all these, and had made them out neatly to Deborah's
+various customers. Then he directed the envelopes, and Sylvia sealed
+them up. All the time they laughed and chatted, and despite the dull
+toil thoroughly enjoyed themselves. "But I am glad to see, Sylvia," said
+Beecot, pointing to three library volumes lying on the sofa, "that you
+enjoy yourself occasionally."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Sylvia, pouncing on these, "I'm so
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
+glad you spoke, Paul; I wanted to say something to you. <i>The Confessions
+of a Thug</i>," she read out, and looked at Paul. "Have you read it?"</p>
+
+<p>Beecot nodded. "By Colonel Meadows Taylor. A very interesting book, but
+rather a bloodthirsty one for you, dearest."</p>
+
+<p>"Debby got it," confessed Miss Norman, "along with some other books from
+a literary customer who could not pay his bill. It is very strange,
+Paul, that <i>The Confessions of a Thug</i> should be amongst the books."</p>
+
+<p>"Really I don't see why," smiled Beecot, fingering the old-fashioned
+volumes.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the finger of Fate, Paul," said Sylvia, solemnly. Then seeing her
+lover look puzzled, "I mean, that I should find out what goor is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Goor?" Paul looked more puzzled than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"It's an Indian word," explained Sylvia, "and means coarse sugar. The
+Thugs eat it before they strangle anyone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," laughed Beecot, "and you think your father was strangled by a
+Thug? My dear child, the Thugs were stamped out years ago. You'll read
+all about it in the preface of that book, if I remember. But it's long
+since I read the work. Besides, darling," he added, drawing her to him
+caressingly, "the Thugs never came to England."</p>
+
+<p>"Paul," said Sylvia, still more solemnly and resenting the laugh, "do
+you remember the Thug that came into the shop&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you mean the street-hawker that Bart spoke of. Yes, I remember that
+such an Indian entered, according to Bart's tale, and wanted to sell
+boot-laces, while that young imp, Tray, was dancing on poor Bart's body.
+But the Indian wasn't a Thug, Sylvia."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he was," she exclaimed excitedly. "Hokar, he said he was, and
+Hokar was a Thug. Remember
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
+the handful of coarse brown sugar he left on the counter? Didn't Bart
+tell you of that?"</p>
+
+<p>Paul started. "Yes, by Jove! he did," was his reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," said Sylvia, triumphantly, "that sugar was goor, and the
+Thugs eat it before strangling anyone, and father was strangled."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot could not but be impressed. "It is certainly very strange," he
+said, looking at the book. "And it was queer your father should have
+been strangled on the very night when this Indian Hokar left the sugar
+on the counter. A coincidence, Sylvia darling."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Why should Hokar leave the sugar at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he didn't eat it, and therefore, if he was a Thug, he would have
+done so, had he intended to strangle your father."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Sylvia, with a look of obstinacy on her pretty
+face. "But remember the cruel way in which my father was killed, Paul.
+It's just what an Indian would do, and then the sugar&mdash;oh, I'm quite
+sure this hawker committed the crime."</p>
+
+<p>Beecot shook his head and strove to dissuade her from entertaining this
+idea. But Sylvia, usually so amenable to reason, refused to discard her
+theory, and indeed Paul himself thought that the incident of the sugar
+was queer. He determined to tell Hurd about the matter, and then the
+hawker might be found and made to explain why he had left the goor on
+the counter. "But the sect of the Thugs is extinct," argued Paul,
+quickly; "it can't be, Sylvia."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is," she insisted, "I'm sure." And from this firm opinion he
+could not move her. Finally, when he departed, he took the books with
+him, and promised to read the novel again. Perhaps something might come
+of Sylvia's fancy.</p>
+
+<p>The lovers spent the rest of the time in talking
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
+over their future, and Beecot looked hopefully towards making sufficient
+money to offer Sylvia a home. He also described to her how he had met
+Mrs. Krill and related what she was prepared to do. "Do you think we
+should accept the five hundred a year, Paul," said Sylvia, doubtfully;
+"it would put everything right, and so long as I am with you I don't
+care where we live."</p>
+
+<p>"If you leave the decision to me, darling," said Paul, "I think it will
+be best to refuse this offer. Something is wrong, or Mrs. Krill would
+not be so anxious to get you out of the country."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Paul, do you think she knows anything about the murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear. I don't think that. Mrs. Krill is far too clever a woman to
+put her neck in danger. But there may be a chance of her daughter losing
+the money. Sylvia," he asked, "you saw Maud Krill. How old would you
+take her to be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, quite old, Paul," said Sylvia, decisively; "she dresses well and
+paints her face; but she's forty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Sylvia, not so much as that."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, thirty and over," insisted Sylvia. "Debby thinks the same
+as I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think Debby's zeal may lead her to exaggerate?"</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't lead me to exaggerate," said Sylvia, slightly offended; "and
+I have eyes in my head as well as Debby. That girl, or that woman, I
+should say, is over thirty, Paul."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case," said Beecot, his color rising, "I fancy I see the reason
+of Mrs. Krill's desire to get you out of the country. Maud," he added
+deliberately, "may not be your father's daughter after all."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you think that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well. According to the marriage certificate, and to Mrs. Krill's
+admission, she was married to your
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>
+father thirty years ago. If Maud is over thirty&mdash;can't you see,
+Sylvia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Sylvia colored. "You mean she may be the same as I am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly, dear," replied Paul, soothing her. "I mean that Mrs. Krill
+may have been a widow and have had her little girl with her when she
+married your father. In that case Maud certainly could not get the
+money, and so Mrs. Krill wants you to leave England."</p>
+
+<p>"In case I would get it," said Sylvia, excited.</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked puzzled and rather sad. "I can't say, dear," he replied
+doubtfully. "Certainly the money is left to 'my daughter,' but as the
+marriage with your mother unfortunately is void, I fear you would not
+inherit. However," he said grimly, "there would be a certain pleasure in
+taking the money from that woman. Maud is a mere puppet in her hands,"
+he laughed. "And then Hay would marry a poor bride," he ended
+maliciously.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia could not quite understand all this, and gave up trying to solve
+the problem with a pretty gesture of indifference. "What will you do,
+Paul?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see Hurd and tell him what you and Deborah say about the age of
+Maud Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not see Mr. Pash?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he is a traitor," replied Beecot, darkly, "and, knowing he has
+lost your confidence, he will certainly try and give Maud Krill
+possession of the money. No, I'll speak to Hurd, who is my friend and
+yours. He is clever and will be able to unravel this tangle."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him about the goor also, Paul."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'll explain everything I can, and then I'll get him to go down to
+Christchurch and see what happened there, when your father lived with
+Maud's mother."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>
+
+<p>"What did happen, Paul?" asked Sylvia, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," he replied with an assumption of carelessness, for he did not
+want to tell the girl about the fate of Lady Rachel Sandal, "but we may
+find in your father's past life what led to his murder."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think Mrs. Krill had anything to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"My own, you asked that question before. No, I don't. Still, one never
+knows. I should think Mrs. Krill is a dangerous woman, although I fancy,
+too clever to risk being hanged. However, Hurd can find out if she was
+in town on the night your father was killed."</p>
+
+<p>"That was on the sixth of July," said Sylvia.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And he was murdered at twelve."</p>
+
+<p>"After twelve," said Sylvia. "I heard the policeman on his beat at a
+quarter-past, and then I came down. Poor father was strangled before our
+very eyes," she said, shuddering.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, dear. Don't speak of it," said Paul, rising. "Let us talk of more
+interesting subjects."</p>
+
+<p>"Paul, I can think of nothing till I learn who killed my poor father,
+and why he was killed so cruelly."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we must wait patiently, Sylvia. Hurd is looking after the matter,
+and I have every confidence in Hurd. And, by Jove!" added Beecot, with
+an after-thought, "Mrs. Krill doubled the reward. Were she concerned in
+the matter she would not risk sharpening the wits of so clever a man as
+Hurd. No, Sylvia, whosoever strangled your father it was not Mrs.
+Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"It was this Indian," insisted Sylvia, "and he's a Thug."</p>
+
+<p>Paul laughed although he was far from thinking she might be wrong. Of
+course it seemed ridiculous that a Thug should strangle the old man. In
+the first place, the Thugs have been blotted out; in the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
+second, if any survived, they certainly would not exercise their
+devilish religion in England, and in the third, Hokar, putting aside his
+offering strangled victims to Bhowanee, the goddess of the sect, had no
+reason for slaying an unoffending man. Finally, there was the sailor to
+be accounted for&mdash;the sailor who had tried to get the jewels from
+Pash. Paul wondered if Hurd had found out anything about this
+individual. "It's all very difficult," sighed Beecot, "and the more we
+go into the matter the more difficult does it get. But we'll see light
+some day. Hurd, if anyone, will unravel the mystery," and Sylvia agreed
+with him.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">HURD'S INFORMATION</p>
+
+
+<p>For the next day or two Paul was kept closely to work in the office,
+reading a number of tales which were awaiting his judgment. After hours,
+he several times tried to see Billy Hurd, but was unable to meet him. He
+left a note at the Scotland Yard office, asking if Hurd had received his
+communication regarding Mrs. Krill, and if so, what he proposed to do
+concerning it. Hurd did not reply to this note, and Paul was growing
+puzzled over the silence of the detective. At length the answer came,
+not in writing, but in the person of Hurd himself, who called on Beecot.</p>
+
+<p>The young man had just finished his frugal meal and was settling down to
+an evening's work when there came a knock to the door. Hurd, dressed in
+his usual brown suit, presented himself, looking cool and composed. But
+he was more excited than one would imagine, as Paul saw from the
+expression of his eyes. The detective accepted a cup of coffee and
+lighted his pipe. Then he sat down in the arm-chair on the opposite side
+of the fireplace and prepared to talk. Paul heaped on coals with a
+lavish hand, little as he could afford this extravagance, as the night
+was cold and he guessed that Hurd had much to say. So, on the whole,
+they had a very comfortable and interesting conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you are pleased to see me?" asked Hurd, puffing meditatively
+at his briar.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
+
+<p>Paul nodded. "Very glad," he answered, "that is, if you have done
+anything about Mrs. Krill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," drawled the detective, smiling, "I have been investigating that
+murder case."</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Rachel Sandal's?" said Beecot, eagerly. "Is it really murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so, though some folks think it suicide. Curious you should have
+stumbled across that young lord," went on Hurd, musingly, "and more
+curious still that he should have been in the room with Mrs. Krill
+without recollecting the name. There was a great fuss made about it at
+the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I can understand Lord George," said Beecot, promptly. "The murder,
+if it is one, took place before he was born, and as there seems to have
+been some scandal in the matter, the family hushed it up. This young
+fellow probably gathered scraps of information from old servants, but
+from what he said to me in the cab, I think he knows very little."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite enough to put me on the track of Lemuel Krill's reason for
+leaving Christchurch."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the reason?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Twenty-three years ago he left Christchurch at the very time Lady
+Rachel was murdered in his public-house. Then he disappeared for a time,
+and turned up a year later in Gwynne Street with a young wife whom he
+had married in the meantime."</p>
+
+<p>"Sylvia's mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. And Miss Norman was born a year later. She's nearly
+twenty-one, isn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She will be twenty-one in three months."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd nodded gravely. "The time corresponds," said he. "As the crime was
+committed twenty-three years back and Lord George is only twenty, I can
+understand how he knows so little about it. But didn't he connect Mrs.
+Krill with the man who died in Gwynne Street?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>
+
+<p>"No. She explained that. The name of Krill appeared only a few times in
+the papers, and was principally set forth with the portrait, in the
+hand-bills. I shouldn't think Lord George was the kind of young man to
+bother about hand-bills."</p>
+
+<p>"All the same, he might have heard talk at his club. Everyone isn't so
+stupid."</p>
+
+<p>"No. But, at all events, he did not seem to connect Mrs. Krill with the
+dead man. And even with regard to the death of his aunt, he fancied she
+might not be the same woman."</p>
+
+<p>"What an ass he must be," said Hurd, contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think he has much brain," confessed Paul, shrugging his
+shoulders; "but he asked me if I thought Mrs. Krill was the same as the
+landlady of 'The Red Pig,' and I denied that she was. I don't like
+telling lies, but in this case I hope the departure from truth will be
+pardoned."</p>
+
+<p>"You did very right," said the detective. "The fewer people know about
+these matters the better&mdash;especially a chatterbox like this young fool."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, under the name of the Count de la Tour. But I know of him in
+another way, which I'll reveal later. Hay is still fleecing him?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is. But Lord George seems to be growing suspicious of Hay," and Paul
+related the conversation he had with the young man.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd grunted. "I'm sorry," he said. "I want to catch Hay red-handed, and
+if Lord George grows too clever I may not be able to do so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Paul, rather impatiently, "never mind about that fellow
+just now, but tell me what you have discovered."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a lot of interesting things. When I got your letter, of course I at
+once connected the opal serpent with Aaron Norman, and his change of
+name with the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>
+murder. I knew that Norman came to Gwynne Street over twenty years
+ago&mdash;that came out in the evidence connected with his death.
+Therefore, putting two and two together, I searched in the newspapers of
+that period and found what I wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"A report of the case?"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. And after that I hunted up the records at Scotland Yard for
+further details that were not made public. So I got the whole story
+together, and I am pretty certain that Aaron Norman, or as he then was,
+Lemuel Krill, murdered Lady Rachel for the sake of that precious
+brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Paul, drawing a breath, "now I understand why he fainted when
+he saw it again. No wonder, considering it was connected in his mind
+with the death of Lady Rachel."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. And no wonder the man kept looking over his shoulder in the
+expectation of being tapped on the shoulder by a policeman. I don't
+wonder also that he locked up the house and kept his one eye on the
+ground, and went to church secretly to pray. What a life he must have
+led. Upon my soul, bad as the man was, I'm sorry for him."</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," said Paul. "And after all, he is Sylvia's father."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor girl, to have a murderer for a father!"</p>
+
+<p>Beecot turned pale. "I love Sylvia for herself," he said, with an
+effort, "and if her father had committed twenty murders I would not let
+her go. But she must never know."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Hurd, stretching his hand across and giving Paul a friendly
+grip, "and I knew you'd stick to her. It wouldn't be fair to blame the
+girl for what her father did before she was born."</p>
+
+<p>"We must keep everything from her, Hurd. I'll marry her and take her
+abroad sooner than she should learn of this previous murder. But how did
+it happen?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you in a few minutes." Hurd rose and began to pace the narrow
+limits of the attic. "By the way, do you know that Norman was a secret
+drinker of brandy?"</p>
+
+<p>Paul nodded, and told the detective what he had learned from Mrs. Krill.
+Hurd was much struck with the intelligence. "I see," said he; "what Mrs.
+Krill says is quite true. Drink does change the ordinary nature into the
+opposite. Krill sober was a timid rabbit; Krill drunk was a murderer and
+a thief. Good lord, and how he drank!"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," confessed Hurd, nursing his chin, "Pash and I went to search the
+Gwynne Street house to find, if possible, the story alluded to in the
+scrap of paper Deborah Junk found. We couldn't drop across anything of
+that sort, but in Norman's bedroom, which nobody ever entered, we found
+brandy bottles by the score. Under the bed, ranged along the walls,
+filling cupboards, stowed away in boxes. I had the curiosity to count
+them. Those we found, ran up to five hundred, and Lord knows how many
+more he must have got rid of when he found the bottles crowding him
+inconveniently."</p>
+
+<p>"I expect he got drunk every night," said Paul, thinking. "When he
+locked up Sylvia and Deborah in the upper room&mdash;I can understand now why
+he did so&mdash;he could go to the cellar and take possession of the shop key
+left on the nail by Bart. Then, free from all intrusion, he could drink
+till reeling. Not that I think he ever did reel," went on Beecot,
+mindful of what Mrs. Krill had said; "he could stand a lot, and I expect
+the brandy only converted him into a demon."</p>
+
+<p>"And a clever business man," said Hurd. "You know Aaron Norman was not
+clever over the books. Bart sold those, but from all accounts he was a
+Shylock when dealing, after seven o'clock, in the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>
+pawnbroking way. I understand now. Sober, he was a timid fool; drunk, he
+was a bold, clever villain."</p>
+
+<p>"My poor Sylvia, what a father," sighed Paul; "but this crime&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you about it. Lemuel Krill and his wife kept 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch, a little public house it is, on the outskirts of the town,
+frequented by farm-laborers and such-like. The business was pretty good,
+but the couple didn't look to making their fortune. Mrs. Krill was a
+farmer's daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"A Buckinghamshire farmer," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know? oh!"&mdash;on receiving information&mdash;"Mrs. Krill told you
+so? Well, considering the murder of Lady Rachel, she would have done
+better to hold her tongue and have commenced life with her dead
+husband's money under a new name. She's a clever woman, too," mused
+Hurd, "I can't understand her being so unnecessarily frank."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, go on," said Paul, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd returned to his seat and re-filled his pipe. "Well, then," he
+continued, "Krill got drunk and gave his wife great trouble. Sometimes
+he thrashed her and blacked her eyes, and he treated their daughter
+badly too."</p>
+
+<p>"How old was the daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say. Why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you later. Go on, please."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, Mrs. Krill always revenged herself on her husband when he
+was sober and timid, so the couple were evenly matched. Krill was master
+when drunk, and his wife mistress when he was sober. A kind of see-saw
+sort of life they must have led."</p>
+
+<p>"Where does Lady Rachel come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"What an impatient chap you are," remonstrated Hurd, in a friendly tone.
+"I'm coming to that now. Lady Rachel quarrelled with her father over
+some
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>
+young artist she wanted to marry. He would not allow the lover to come
+to the Hall, so Lady Rachel said she would kill herself rather than give
+him up."</p>
+
+<p>"And she did," said Paul, thinking of the suicide theory.</p>
+
+<p>"There you go again. How am I to tell you all when you interrupt."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon. I won't do so again."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd nodded smilingly and continued. "One night&mdash;it was dark and
+stormy&mdash;Lady Rachel had a row royal with her father. Then she ran out of
+the Hall saying her father would never see her alive again. She may have
+intended to commit suicide certainly, or she may have intended to join
+her lover in London. But whatever she intended to do, the rain cooled
+her. She staggered into Christchurch and fell down insensible at the
+door of 'The Red Pig.' Mrs. Krill brought her indoors and laid her on a
+bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she know who the lady was?"</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shook his head. "She said in her evidence that she did not, but
+living in the neighborhood, she certainly must have seen Lady Rachel
+sometimes. Krill was drunk as usual. He had been boozing all the day
+with a skipper of some craft at Southampton. He was good for nothing, so
+Mrs. Krill did everything. She declares that she went to bed at eleven
+leaving Lady Rachel sleeping."</p>
+
+<p>"Did Lady Rachel recover her senses?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;according to Mrs. Krill&mdash;but she refused to say who she was, and
+merely stated that she would sleep at 'The Red Pig' that night and would
+go on to London next morning. Mrs. Krill swore that Lady Rachel had no
+idea of committing suicide. Well, about midnight, Mrs. Krill, who slept
+in one room with her daughter, was awakened by loud shouts. She sprang
+to her feet and hurried out, her daughter
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>
+came also, as she had been awakened and was terrified. Mrs. Krill found
+that her husband was raving mad with drink and smashing the furniture in
+the room below. The skipper&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What was the skipper's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jessop&mdash;Jarvey Jessop. Well, he also, rather drunk, was retiring to bed
+and stumbled by chance into Lady Rachel's room. He found her quite dead
+and shouted for assistance. The poor lady had a silk handkerchief she
+wore tied tightly round her throat and fastened to the bedpost. When
+Jessop saw this, he ran out of the inn in dismay. Mrs. Krill descended
+to give the alarm to her neighbors, but Krill struck her down, and
+struck his daughter also, making her mouth bleed. An opal brooch that
+Lady Rachel wore was missing, but Mrs. Krill only knew of that the next
+day. She was insensible from the blow given by Krill, and the daughter
+ran out to get assistance. When the neighbors entered, Krill was gone,
+and notwithstanding all the search made for him he could not be found."</p>
+
+<p>"And Jessop?"</p>
+
+<p>"He turned up and explained that he had been frightened on finding the
+woman dead. But the police found him on his craft at Southampton, and he
+gave evidence. He said that Krill when drunk, and like a demon, as Mrs.
+Krill told you, had left the room several times. The last time he came
+back, he and the skipper had a final drink, and then Jessop retired to
+find&mdash;the body. It was supposed by the police that Krill had killed Lady
+Rachel for the sake of the brooch, which could not be discovered&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But the brooch&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on. I know what you are about to say. We'll come to that shortly.
+Let me finish this yarn first. It was also argued that, from Lady
+Rachel's
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>
+last words to her father, and from the position of the body&mdash;tied
+by the neck to the bedpost&mdash;that she had committed suicide. Mrs.
+Krill, as I said, declared the deceased lady never mentioned the idea of
+making away with herself. However, Krill's flight and the chance that,
+being drunk, he might have strangled the lady for the sake of the brooch
+while out of the room, made many think he was the culprit, especially as
+Jessop said that Krill had noticed the brooch and commented on the
+opals."</p>
+
+<p>"He was a traveller in jewels once, according to his wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and left that to turn innkeeper. Afterwards he vanished, as I say,
+and became a pawnbroker in Gwynne Street. Well, the jury at the inquest
+could not agree. Some thought Lady Rachel had committed suicide, and
+others that Krill had murdered her. Then the family didn't want a
+scandal, so in one way and another the matter was hushed up. The jury
+brought in a verdict of suicide by a majority of one, so you can see how
+equally they were divided. Lady Rachel's body was laid in the family
+vault, and nothing more was heard of Lemuel Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"What did Mrs. Krill do?"</p>
+
+<p>"She stopped on at the inn, as she told you. People were sorry for her
+and helped her, so she did very well. Mother and daughter have lived at
+'The Red Pig' all these years, highly respected, until they saw the
+hand-bills about Krill. Then the money was claimed, but as the
+circumstance of Lady Rachel's fate was so old, nobody thought of
+mentioning it till this young lord did so to you, and I&mdash;as you
+see&mdash;have hunted out the details."</p>
+
+<p>"What is your opinion, Hurd?" asked Paul, deeply interested.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think Krill murdered the woman and then cut to London. That
+accounts for his looking over his shoulder, etc., about which we
+talked."</p>
+
+<p>"But how did he get money to start as a bookseller? Premises are not
+leased in Gwynne Street for nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he might have got money on the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"No. The brooch was pawned by a nautical gentleman." Paul started up.
+"Captain Jessop, perhaps. You remember?" he said excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Hurd, puffing his pipe with satisfaction, "I see you
+understand. I mentioned that about the brooch to hear what you would
+say. Yes, Jessop must have pawned the brooch at Stowley, and it must
+have been Jessop who came with the note for the jewels to Pash."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha," said Paul, walking excitedly about the room. "Then it would seem
+that Jessop and Krill were in league?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," said Hurd, staring at the fire. "And yet I am not sure.
+Jessop may have found that Krill had killed the woman, and then have
+made him give up the brooch, which he afterwards pawned at Stowley.
+Though why he should go near Mrs. Krill's old home, I can't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Stowley near her old home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;in Buckinghamshire. However, after pawning the brooch I expect
+Jessop lost sight of Krill till he must have come across him a few days
+before the crime. Then he must have made Krill sign the paper ordering
+the jewels to be given up by Pash, so that he might get money."</p>
+
+<p>"A kind of blackmail in fact."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Hurd, doubtfully, "after all, Jessop might have killed
+Krill himself."</p>
+
+<p>"But how did Jessop get the brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that I can't tell you, unless Norman himself picked it up in the
+street. We must find these
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>
+things out. I'm going to Christchurch to make inquiries. I'll let you
+know what I discover," and Hurd rose.</p>
+
+<p>"One minute," said Paul, hastily. "Do you think Miss Krill is the dead
+man's child?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. She's as like her mother as two peas. Why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>Paul detailed what Sylvia and Deborah had said. "So if she is over
+thirty," said Beecot, "she can't be Krill's child, or else she must have
+been born before Krill married his wife. In either case, she has no
+right to the money."</p>
+
+<p>"It's strange," said Hurd, musingly. "I'll have to look into that.
+Meanwhile, I've got plenty to do."</p>
+
+<p>"There's another thing I have to say."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll confuse me, Beecot. What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The sugar and that hawker," and Paul related what Sylvia had said about
+Thuggism. Hurd sat down and stared. "That must be bosh," he said,
+looking at the novel, "and yet it's mighty queer. I say," he took the
+three volumes, "will you lend me these?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Be careful. They are not mine."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be careful. But I can't dip into them just yet, nor can I go into
+the Hindoo business, let alone this age of Miss Krill. The first thing I
+have to do is to go to Christchurch and see&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And see if Mrs. Krill was at home on the night of the sixth of July."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd started. "Oh," said he, dryly, "the night the crime was committed,
+you mean? Well, I didn't intend to look up that point, as I do not see
+how Mrs. Krill can be implicated. However, I'll take a note of that,"
+and this he did, and then continued. "But I'm anxious to find Jessop. I
+shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that he committed the double
+crime."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>
+
+<p>"The double crime?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He might have strangled Lady Rachel, and twenty years later have
+killed Krill. I can't be sure, but I think he is the guilty person."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">AT CHRISTCHURCH, HANTS</p>
+
+
+<p>The next afternoon Hurd was on his way to the former abode of Mrs.
+Krill. During the journey he glanced at his notes and arranged what
+inquiries he should make. It struck him as strange that Mrs. Krill
+should have told Paul of her association with "The Red Pig," considering
+the reputation of the place, in connection with Lady Rachel Sandal's
+murder&mdash;or suicide. It would have been better had Mrs. Krill changed her
+name by letters patent and have started a new life on her dead husband's
+money. The detective could not understand the reason for this
+unnecessary frankness.</p>
+
+<p>Before leaving town he took the precaution to call on Pash and note down
+a description of the sailor&mdash;presumably Jessop&mdash;who had tried to obtain
+possession of the jewels on the morning after the crime had been
+committed in Gwynne Street. He learned that the man (who had given no
+name) was tall and stout, with the flushed skin of a habitual drinker of
+strong waters, and reddish hair mixed with grey. He also had a scar
+running from his right temple to his mouth, and although this was partly
+concealed by a beard, yet it was distinctly visible. The man was dressed
+in blue serge, carried his large hands slightly clenched, and rolled in
+his gait. Hurd noted these things down, and had little doubt but what he
+would recognize the man if he came across him. Connecting him with the
+individual who had
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
+pawned the brooch at Stowley, Hurd fancied he might be Jessop. He
+resolved to look for him in Southampton, as, judging from the evidence
+given at the inquest on Lady Rachel's remains, that was the port of call
+for the mariner.</p>
+
+<p>At the station immediately before that of Christchurch, Hurd glanced at
+a telegram which he produced out of his pocket-book, and then leaned out
+of the carriage window. A pretty, daintily-dressed little woman saw him
+and at once entered the carriage with a gay laugh. She was Miss Aurora
+Qian, and Paul would have been considerably astonished had he overheard
+her conversation with Mr. Hurd. But the detective and the actress had
+the compartment to themselves, and talked freely.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the safest place to talk in," explained Miss Qian, producing a bag
+of chocolate and eating during the conversation. "Of course, I told the
+landlady at 'The Red Pig' that my brother was coming down, so we can go
+there right enough. But walls have ears. I don't think railway carriages
+have, though, and we have much to say, Billy."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you found out anything, Aurora?" asked Hurd.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Qian nodded. "A great deal considering I have been in the place
+only twenty-four hours. It's a good thing I'm out of an engagement,
+Billy, or I shouldn't have time to leave London or to look after that
+man Hay. I <i>am</i> a good sister."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you are. But there's money in the business also. If I can get
+that thousand pounds, you'll have your share."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you'll treat me straight, Billy," said the actress, with much
+satisfaction. "I always say that my brother is as square a man as I
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce you do," said Hurd, rather vexed. "I hope you don't go
+telling everyone that I am your brother, Aurora?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Only one or two special friends&mdash;not Hay, you may be sure. Nor does
+that nice Mr. Beecot know that we are brother and sister."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd best keep it dark, and say nothing, Aurora. It's just as well you
+left the private detective business and went on the stage. You talk too
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I don't," retorted Miss Qian, eating a sweet. "Don't be nasty,
+Billy, or I'll tell you nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Her brother shrugged his shoulders. He was very fond of Aurora, but he
+saw her many faults, and she certainly had too long a tongue for one
+engaged in private matters. "What about Hay?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Aurora raised her eyes. "I thought you wanted to know of my discoveries
+at Christchurch," she said, pouting.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do. But Hay?&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's all right. He's going to marry Miss Krill and her money, and
+is getting cash together by fleecing young Sandal. That fool <i>will</i>
+play, and keeps losing his money, although I've warned him."</p>
+
+<p>"Then don't warn him. I wish to catch Hay red-handed."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," Miss Qian nodded, "you may catch him red-handed in a worse matter
+than gambling."</p>
+
+<p>"Aurora, you don't mean to say he has anything to do with the murder of
+Aaron Norman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't go so far as to say that, Billy. But when I got settled
+in the private sitting-room of 'The Red Pig' on the plea that I had come
+down for a change of air, and expected my brother&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Which you do without any lies."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's all right, Billy," she said impatiently. "Well, the first
+thing I clapped eyes on was a portrait of Grexon Hay in a silver frame
+on the mantelpiece."</p>
+
+<p>"Hum," said Hurd, nursing his chin in his hand,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
+"he may have given that to Miss Krill during the engagement."</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay," rejoined the actress, tartly, "for he has been engaged for
+many a long day&mdash;say two years."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so," said Hurd, triumphantly. "I always fancied the meeting
+at Pash's office was a got-up thing."</p>
+
+<p>"What made you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because, when disguised as the Count de la Tour, I overheard Hay
+address Miss Krill as Maud, and it was the first time she and her mother
+came to his rooms. Sandal was there, and gambling went on as usual. I
+lost money myself," said Hurd, with a grimace, "in order to make Hay
+think I was another pigeon to pluck. But the mention of the Christian
+name on so short an acquaintance showed me that Hay and Miss Krill had
+met before. I expect the meeting at Pash's office was a got-up game."</p>
+
+<p>"You said that before, Billy. How you repeat yourself! Yes. There's an
+inscription on the portrait&mdash;'From Grexon to Maud with much
+love'&mdash;sweet, isn't it? when you think what an icicle the man is. There
+is also a date&mdash;two years ago the photograph was given. I admired the
+photograph and asked the landlady who was the swell."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the landlady's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Matilda Junk."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd almost jumped from his seat. "That's queer," he said, "the woman
+who is devoted to Miss Norman and who nursed her since she was a baby is
+called Deborah Junk."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that," said Aurora, "I'm not quite a fool, Billy. I mentioned
+Deborah Junk, whom I saw at the inquest on Norman's body. The landlady
+said she was her sister, but she had not heard of her for ages. And this
+Matilda is just like Deborah in looks&mdash;a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>
+large Dutch doll with beady eyes and a badly painted face."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's a point," said Hurd, making a note. "What did she say
+about the photograph?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that it was one of Mr. Hay who was Miss Krill's young man, and that
+they had been engaged for two years&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Matilda seems to be a chatterbox."</p>
+
+<p>"She is. I got a lot out of her."</p>
+
+<p>"Then there can be nothing to conceal on the part of Mrs. Krill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Aurora, throwing the empty sweetmeat bag out of the window
+and brushing her lap, "so far as I can discover, Mrs. Krill is a
+perfectly respectable person, and has lived for thirty years as the
+landlady of 'The Red Pig.' Matilda acknowledged that her mistress had
+inherited the money of Lemuel Krill, and Matilda knows all about the
+murder."</p>
+
+<p>"Matilda is wrong," said the detective, dryly; "Miss Krill gets the
+money."</p>
+
+<p>Aurora smiled. "From what I heard, Miss Krill has to do what her mother
+tells her. She's nobody and her mother is all the world. Matilda
+confessed that her mistress had behaved very well to her. When the money
+came, she gave up 'The Red Pig' to Matilda Junk, who is now the
+landlady."</p>
+
+<p>"With a proviso she should hold her tongue."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Mrs. Krill, so far as I can learn, has nothing to conceal. Even if
+it becomes known in London that she was the landlady of a small pub, I
+don't think it will matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ask questions about Lady Rachel's murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. You gave me only a hint when you sent me down. I didn't like to
+venture on ground I wasn't sure of. I'm more cautious than you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll tell you everything now," said Hurd, and gave a rapid sketch
+of what he had learned from
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
+the newspapers and the Scotland Yard papers relative to the Sandal
+affair. Aurora nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"But Matilda Junk said nothing of that. She merely stated that Mr.
+Lemuel Krill had gone to London over twenty years ago, and that his wife
+knew nothing of him until she saw the hand-bills."</p>
+
+<p>"Hum," said Hurd again, as the train slowed down to the Christchurch
+station, "it seems all fair and above board. What about Jessop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Knowing so little of the Lady Rachel case, I didn't inquire about him,"
+said Aurora. "I've told you everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Anyone else stopping at the inn?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. And it's not a bad little place after all. The rooms are clean and
+the food good and the charges low. I'd rather stop at 'The Red Pig,'
+small as it is, than at the big hotel. The curries&mdash;oh, they are
+delightfully hot!" Miss Qian screwed her small face into a smile of
+ecstasy. "But, then, a native makes them."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd started. "Curries&mdash;a native?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;a man called Hokar."</p>
+
+<p>"Aurora, that's the man who left the sugar on the counter of Norman's
+shop. I forgot you don't know about that," and Hurd rapidly told her of
+the episode.</p>
+
+<p>"It's strange," said Miss Qian, nodding with a faraway look. "It would
+seem that Mrs. Krill knew of the whereabouts of her husband before she
+saw the hand-bills."</p>
+
+<p>"And possibly about the murder also," said Hurd.</p>
+
+<p>Brother and sister looked at one another; the case was becoming more and
+more interesting. Mrs. Krill evidently knew more than she chose to
+admit. But at this moment the train stopped, and they got out. Hurd took
+his handbag and walked into the town with his pretty sister tripping
+beside him. She gave him an additional piece of information before
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
+they arrived at "The Red Pig." "This Hokar is not at all popular," she
+said; "they say he eats cats and dogs. Yes. I've talked to several old
+women, and they say they lost their animals. One cat was found strangled
+in the yard, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Strangled!" interrupted the detective. "Hum, and the man's an Indian,
+possibly a Thug."</p>
+
+<p>"What's a Thug?" asked Aurora, staring.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd explained. "I ran through the book lent by Beecot last night," he
+added, "and was so interested I sat up till dawn&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You do look chippy," said his sister, candidly, "but from what you say,
+there are no Thugs living."</p>
+
+<p>"No, the author says so. Still, it's queer, this strangling, and then
+the cruel way in which the man was murdered. Just what a Hindoo would
+do. The sugar too&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nonsense! Hokar left the sugar by mistake. If he had intended to
+murder Norman he wouldn't have given himself away."</p>
+
+<p>"I expect he never thought anyone would guess he was a Thug. The novel
+is not one usually read nowadays. It was the merest chance that Miss
+Norman came across it and told Beecot."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe in such coincidences," said Aurora, dryly; for in spite
+of her fluffy, kittenish looks, she was a very practical person. "But
+here we are at 'The Red Pig.' Nice and comfy, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>The inn was certainly very pretty. It stood on the very verge of the
+town, and beyond stretched fields and hedgerows. The house itself was a
+white-washed, thatched, rustic cottage, with a badly painted sign of a
+large red sow. Outside were benches, where topers sat, and the windows
+were delightfully old-fashioned, diamond-paned casements. Quite a
+Dickens inn of the old coaching days was "The Red Pig."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
+
+<p>But Hurd gave the pretty, quaint hostel only a passing glance. He was
+staring at a woman who stood in the doorway shading her eyes with the
+palm of her hand from the setting sun. In her the detective saw the
+image of Deborah Junk, now Tawsey. She was of the same gigantic build,
+with the same ruddy face, sharp, black eyes and boisterous manner. But
+she had not the kindly look of Deborah, and of the two sisters Hurd
+preferred the one he already knew.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my brother, Miss Junk," said Aurora, marching up to the door;
+"he will only stay until to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"You're welcome, sir," said Matilda in a loud and hearty voice, which
+reminded the detective more than ever of her sister. "Will you please
+walk in and 'ave some tea?"</p>
+
+<p>Hurd nodded and repaired to the tiny sitting-room, where he saw the
+photograph of Hay on the mantelpiece. Aurora, at a hint from her
+brother, went to her bedroom to change her dress, and Hurd spoke to
+Matilda, when she brought in the tray. "I know your sister," said he.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Junk nearly dropped the tray. "Lor', now, only think! Why, we ain't
+wrote to one another for ten years. And I left London eleven years back.
+And how is she, sir? and where is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is well; she has a laundry in Jubileetown near London, and she is
+married to a fellow called Bart Tawsey."</p>
+
+<p>"Married!" cried Matilda, setting down the tray and putting her arms
+akimbo, just like Deborah, "lor', and me still single. But now I've got
+this 'ouse, and a bit put by, I'll think of gittin' a 'usband. I ain't
+a-goin' to let Debby crow over me."</p>
+
+<p>"Your sister was in the service of Mr. Norman before she took up the
+laundry," observed Hurd, pouring out a cup of tea.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Was she, now? And why did she leave?"</p>
+
+<p>The name of Norman apparently was unknown to Matilda, so Hurd tried the
+effect of another bombshell. "Her master was murdered under the name of
+Lemuel Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy," Matilda dropped into a chair, with a thud which shook the room;
+"why, that's my ladies' husband and father."</p>
+
+<p>"What ladies?" asked Hurd, pretending ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>"My ladies, Mrs. Krill and Miss Maud. They had this 'ouse, and kep' it
+for years respectable. I worked for 'em ten, and when my ladies comes in
+for a forting, for a forting there is, they gave me the goodwill of 'The
+Red Pig.' To think of Debby being the servant of poor Mr. Krill as was
+killed. Who killed 'im?"</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't your mistress know?"</p>
+
+<p>"She," cried Matilda, indignantly, and bouncing up. "Why, she was always
+a-lookin' for him, not as she loved him over much. And as he is dead,
+sir, it's no more as what he oughter be, seeing as he killed a poor lady
+in this very 'ouse. You'll sleep in 'er room to-night," added Matilda,
+as if that was a pleasure. "Strangled, she was."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I heard of that. But Lady Rachel Sandal committed suicide."</p>
+
+<p>Matilda rubbed her nose, after the Deborah fashion. "Well, sir, my
+ladies were never sure which it was, and, of course, it was before my
+time considerable, being more nor twenty year back. But the man as did
+it is dead, and lef' my ladies his money, as he oughter. An' Miss Maud's
+a-goin' to marry a real gent"&mdash;Matilda glanced at the photograph&mdash;"I
+allays said he wos a gent, bein' so 'aughty like, and wearing evening
+dress at meals, late."</p>
+
+<p>"Was he ever down here, this gentleman?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>
+
+<p>"He's been comin' and goin' fur months, and Miss Maud loves 'im
+somethin' cruel. But they'll marry now an' be 'appy."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose your ladies sometimes went to see this gent in town?"</p>
+
+<p>"Meanin' Mr. Hay," said Matilda, artlessly. "Well, sir, they did, one at
+a time and then together. Missis would go and miss would foller, an'
+miss an' missus together would take their joy of the Towers an' shops
+and Madame Tusord's and sich like, Mr. Hay allays lookin' after 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Did they ever visit Mr. Hay in July?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, they didn't," snapped Matilda, with a change of tone which did not
+escape Hurd; "and I don't know, sir, why you arsk them questions."</p>
+
+<p>"My good woman, I ask no questions. If I do, you need not reply. Let us
+change the subject. My sister tells me you make good curries in this
+hotel."</p>
+
+<p>"Hokar do, me bein' but a plain cook."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! He's an Indian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is, sir. A pore Indian castaway as missus took up with when he
+come here drenched with rain and weary. Ah, missus was allays good and
+kind and Christian-like."</p>
+
+<p>Privately Hurd thought this description did not apply very well to the
+lady in question, but he was careful not to arouse Matilda's suspicions
+again by contradicting her. He pretended to joke. "I wonder you don't
+marry this Indian, and keep him here always to make the curries I have
+heard of."</p>
+
+<p>"Me marry a black!" cried Matilda, tossing her rough head. "Well, sir, I
+never," her breath failed her, "an' him goin' about the country."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p>
+
+<p>"What I say," said Miss Junk; "he'll stop here, Christian-like, for
+days, and then go orf to sell things as a 'awker. My par was a 'awker,
+sir, but a white, white man of the finest."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>
+
+<p>Hurd was about to ask another question when a husky voice was heard
+singing somewhat out of tune. "What's that?" asked Hurd, irritably.</p>
+
+<p>"Lor', sir, wot nervses you 'ave. 'Tis only Cap'n Jessop makin' hisself
+'appy-like."</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Jessop," Hurd laughed. He had run down his man at last.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">CAPTAIN JESSOP</p>
+
+
+<p>Apparently Matilda Junk was quite ignorant of anything being wrong about
+her ladies, although she did shirk the question regarding their possible
+visit to London in July. However, Hurd had learned that Grexon Hay not
+only was an old friend, but had been engaged to Maud for many months.
+This information made him the more certain that Hay had robbed Beecot of
+the opal brooch at the time of the accident, and that it had passed from
+Mr. Hay's hands into those of the assassin.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if Mrs. Krill murdered her husband in that cruel way," thought
+the detective, sitting over his tea; "but what could have been her
+object? She could have gone up on learning from Hay that Aaron Norman
+was her husband&mdash;as I believe she did&mdash;and could then have made him give
+her the money, by threatening him with the murder of Lady Rachel. I
+daresay Aaron Norman in his Krill days did strangle that lady to get the
+opal brooch and his wife could have used what she knew to govern him.
+There was no need of murder. Hum! I'll see about getting the truth out
+of Hay. Aurora," he cried. "Oh, there you are," he added, as she entered
+the room. "I want you to go back to town this night."</p>
+
+<p>"What for, Billy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can you get Hay into trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>Aurora nodded. "I have proofs of his cheating
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>
+Lord George and others, if that's what you mean," she said; "but you
+didn't want them used."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor do I. He's such an eel, he may wriggle out of our clutches. But
+can't you give a party and invite Lord George and Hay, and then get them
+to play cards. Should Hay cheat, denounce him to George Sandal."</p>
+
+<p>"What good would that do?" asked Miss Qian, with widely open eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It will make Hay confess about the brooch to save himself from public
+shame. His reputation is his life, remember, and if he is caught
+red-handed cheating, he'll have to clear out of town."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh, as if that mattered. He's going to marry Miss Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"If Miss Krill keeps the money, and I doubt if she will."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Billy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind. Don't ask me any more questions, but go and pack. This
+Captain Jessop is in the bar drinking. I may probably have to arrest
+him. I got a warrant on the chance of finding him here. I can arrest him
+on suspicion, and won't let him go until I get at the truth. Your
+business is to bring Hay to his knees and get the truth out of him about
+the opal serpent. You know the case?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," grumbled Aurora, "I know the case. But I don't like this long
+journey to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Every moment is precious. If I arrest Jessop, Matilda Junk will tell
+her ladies, who will speak to Hay, and then he may slip away. As the
+brooch evidence is so particular, and, as I believe he can give it, if
+forced, you can see the importance of losing no time."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Qian nodded and went away to pack. She wanted money and knew Billy
+would give her a goodly share of the reward. In a few minutes Miss Junk,
+of "The Red Pig," learned that Miss Qian was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>
+suddenly summoned to town and would leave in an hour. Quite
+unsuspectingly she assisted her to pack, and shortly Aurora was driving
+in a hired vehicle to the railway station on her way to trap Grexon Hay.</p>
+
+<p>When she was safely off the premises, Hurd walked to the telegraph
+office, and sent a cipher message to the Yard, asking for a couple of
+plain clothes policemen to be sent down. He wanted to have Hokar and
+Miss Matilda Junk watched, also the house, in case Mrs. Krill and her
+daughter should return. Captain Jessop he proposed to look after
+himself. But he was in no hurry to make that gentleman's acquaintance,
+as he intended to arrest him quietly in the sitting-room after dinner.
+Already he had informed Matilda that he would ask a gentleman to join
+him at the meal and taste Hokar's curry.</p>
+
+<p>The thought of the curry brought the Indian to his mind, and when he got
+back to the Red Pig, he strolled round the house, inspecting the place,
+but in reality keeping eyes and ears open to talk to the Hindoo.
+Thinking he might meet the man some time, Hurd had carefully learned a
+few phrases relating to Thuggism&mdash;in English of course, since he knew
+nothing of the Indian tongues. These he proposed to use in the course of
+conversation with Hokar and watch the effect. Soon he found the man
+sitting cross-legged under a tree in the yard, smoking. Evidently his
+work for the day was over, and he was enjoying himself. Remembering the
+description given by Bart, the detective saw that this was the very man
+who had entered the shop of Aaron Norman. He wore the same dress and
+looked dirty and disreputable&mdash;quite a waif and a stray.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo," said Hurd, casually, "what are you doing. Talk English, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said Hokar, calmly. "I spike good Englis. Missionary teach
+Hokar Englis."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I'm glad of that; we can have a chat," said Hurd, producing his pipe.
+He also produced something else with which he had provided himself on
+the way back from the post-office. In another minute Hokar was staring
+at a small parcel of coarse brown sugar. With all his Oriental phlegm
+the man could not keep his countenance. His eyes rolled until they
+threatened to drop out of his head, and he looked at Hurd with a certain
+amount of fear. "Goor," said that gentleman, pointing to the sugar with
+the stem of his pipe, "goor!"</p>
+
+<p>Hokar turned green under his dark skin, and half-rose to go away, but
+his legs failed him, and he sat still trying to recover himself. "So you
+worship Bhowanee?" went on his tormentor.</p>
+
+<p>The Indian's face expressed lively curiosity. "The great goddess."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Kalee, you know. Did you make Tupounee after you used your roomal
+on Aaron Norman?"</p>
+
+<p>Hokar gave a guttural cry and gasped. Tupounee is the sacrifice made by
+the Thugs after a successful crime, and roomal the handkerchief with
+which they strangled their victims. All this was information culled from
+Colonel Meadow Taylor's book by the accomplished detective. "Well," said
+Hurd, smoking placidly, "what have you to say, Mr. Hokar?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know nozzin'," said the man, sullenly, but in deadly fear.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you do. Sit still," said Hurd, with sudden sternness. "If you try
+to run away, I'll have you arrested. Eyes are on you, and you can't take
+a step without my knowing."</p>
+
+<p>Some of this was Greek to the Indian, owing to his imperfect knowledge
+of English. But he understood that the law would lay hold of him if he
+did not obey this Sahib, and so sat still. "I know not anysing," he
+repeated, his teeth chattering.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you do. You're a Thug."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Zer no Thug."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with you," said Hurd; "you are the last of the Mohicans. I want
+to know why you offered Aaron Norman to Bhowanee?"</p>
+
+<p>Hokar made a strange sign on his forehead at the mention of the sacred
+name, and muttered something&mdash;perhaps a prayer&mdash;in his native tongue.
+Then he looked up. "I know nozzing."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't repeat that rubbish," said Hurd, calmly; "you sold boot laces in
+the shop in Gwynne Street on the day when its master was killed. And he
+was the husband of the lady who helped you&mdash;Mrs. Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"You say dat," said Hokar, stolidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I can prove it. The boy Tray&mdash;and I can lay my hands on
+him&mdash;saw you, also Bart Tawsey, the shopman. You left a handful of
+sugar, though why you did so instead of eating it, I can't understand."</p>
+
+<p>Hokar's face lighted up, and he showed his teeth disdainfully. "Oh, you
+Sahibs know nozzin'!" said he, spreading out his lean brown hands. "Ze
+shops&mdash;ah, yis. I there, yis. But I use no roomal."</p>
+
+<p>"Not then, but you did later."</p>
+
+<p>Hokar shook his head. "I use no roomal. Zat Sahib one eye&mdash;bad, ver bad.
+Bhowanee, no have one eye. No Bhungees, no Bhats, no&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What are you talking about?" said Hurd, angrily. His reading had not
+told him that no maimed persons could be offered to the goddess of the
+Thugs. Bhungees meant sweepers, and Bhats bards, both of which classes
+were spared by the stranglers. "You killed that man. Now, who told you
+to kill him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know nozzin', I no kill. Bhowanee no take one-eye mans."</p>
+
+<p>For want of an interpreter Hurd found it difficult to carry on the
+conversation. He rose and determined to postpone further examination
+till he would get someone who understood the Hindoo tongue.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>
+But in the meantime Hokar might run away, and Hurd rather regretted that
+he had been so precipitate. However, he nodded to the man and went off,
+pretty sure he would not fly at once.</p>
+
+<p>Then Hurd went to the village police-office, and told a bucolic
+constable to keep his eye on Miss Junk's "fureiner," as he learned Hokar
+was called. The policeman, a smooth-faced individual, promised to do so,
+after Hurd produced his credentials, and sauntered towards "The Red
+Pig," at some distance from the detective's heels. A timely question
+about the curry revealed, by the mouth of Miss Junk, that Hokar was
+still in the kitchen. "But he do seem alarmed-like," said Matilda,
+laying the cloth.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's hope he won't spoil the curry," remarked Hurd. Then, knowing
+Hokar was safe, he went into the bar to make the acquaintance of his
+other victim.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Jarvey Jessop quite answered to the description given by Pash.
+He was large and sailor-like, with red hair mixed with grey and a red
+beard that scarcely concealed the scar running from temple to mouth. He
+had drunk enough to make him cheerful and was quite willing to fall into
+conversation with Hurd, who explained himself unnecessarily. "I'm a
+commercial gent," said the detective, calling for two rums, plain, "and
+I like talking."</p>
+
+<p>"Me, too," growled the sailor, grasping his glass. "I'm here on what
+you'd call a visit, but I go back to my home to-morrow. Then it's ho for
+Callao," he shouted in a sing-song voice.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd knew the fierce old chanty and sized Captain Jarvey up at once. He
+was of the buccaneer type, and there was little he would not do to make
+money and have a roaring time. Failing Hokar, with his deadly
+handkerchief, here was the man who might have killed Aaron Norman.
+"Drink
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>
+up," shouted Hurd in his turn, "we'll have some more.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"On no condition, is extradition,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Allowed in Callao."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Gum," said Captain Jessop, "you know the chanty."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd winked. "I've bin round about in my time."</p>
+
+<p>Jessop stretched out a huge hand. "Put it there, mate," said he, with a
+roar like a fog-horn, "and drink up along o' me. My treat."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd nodded and became jovial. "On condition you join me at dinner. They
+make good curries here."</p>
+
+<p>"I've had curry," said Captain Jessop, heavily, "in Colombo and
+Hong-Kong frequent, but Hokar's curries are the best."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Hurd in a friendly curious way, "so you know this shanty?"</p>
+
+<p>Jessop looked at him with contempt. "Know this shanty," said he, with a
+grin, "why, in coorse, I do. I've been swinging my hammock here time in
+and out for the last thirty year."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be a Christchurch man, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not me, mate. I'm Buckinghamshire. Stowley born."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd with difficulty suppressed a start. Stowley was the place where the
+all-important brooch had been pawned by a nautical man, and here was the
+man in question. "I should have thought you'd lived near the sea," he
+said cautiously, "say Southampton."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I used t'go there for my ship," said the captain, draining his
+glass, "but I don't go there no more."</p>
+
+<p>"Retired, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Jessop nodded and looked at his friend&mdash;as he considered Hurd, since the
+invitation to dinner&mdash;with a blood-shot pair of eyes. "Come storm, come
+calm,"
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
+he growled, "I've sailed the ocean for forty years. Yes, sir, you bet. I
+was a slip of a fifteen cabin-boy on my first cruise, and then I got on
+to being skipper. Lord," Jessop smacked his knee, "the things I've
+seen!"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have them to-night after dinner," said Hurd, nodding; "but now, I
+suppose, you've made your fortune."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the captain, gloomily, "not what you'd call money. I've got a
+stand-by, though," and he winked.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Married to a rich wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not me. I've had enough of marriage, having been the skipper of a
+mermaid with a tongue. No, sir," he roared out another line of some song
+floating in his muzzy head, "a saucy bachelor am I," then changed to
+gruff talk, "and I intends being one all my days. Stand-by, I
+have&mdash;t'ain't a wife, but I can draw the money regular, and no questions
+asked." Again he winked and drank another glass.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd reflected that perhaps Jessop had killed Aaron Norman for Mrs.
+Krill, and she was paying him blood-money. But he did not dare to press
+the question, as Jessop was coming perilously near what the Irish call
+"the cross drop." He therefore proposed an adjournment to the
+sitting-room. Jessop agreed quite unsuspectingly, not guessing he was
+being trapped. The man was so large and uncouth that Hurd felt behind
+his waist to see that his revolver was loose and could be used should
+occasion arise.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Junk brought in the dinner with her own fair hands, and explained
+that Hokar had made the curry, but she didn't think it was as good as
+usual. "The man's shakin' like a jelly," said Matilda. "I don't know
+why."</p>
+
+<p>The detective nodded, but did not encourage conversation. He was quite
+sure that Hokar was being watched by the smooth-faced policeman, and
+could
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
+not get away. Besides, he wished to talk to Captain Jessop. Miss Junk,
+seeing that she was not needed, retreated, after bringing in the curry,
+and left the gentlemen to help themselves. So here was Hurd in a
+pleasant room, seated before a well-spread table, and with a roaring
+fire at his back, waiting his opportunity to make Captain Jarvey Jessop
+confess his share in the dual murders of Lady Rachel Sandal and Aaron
+Norman.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">PART OF THE TRUTH</p>
+
+
+<p>Captain Jessop ate as greedily as he drank strong waters, and did full
+justice to the curry, which was really excellent. Hurd did not broach
+any unpleasant topic immediately, as he wished the man to enjoy his
+meal. If Jessop was guilty, this dainty dinner would be the last of its
+kind he would have for many a long day. Moreover, Hurd wished to learn
+more of the mariner's character, and plied him with questions, which the
+unsuspecting sailor answered amiably enough.</p>
+
+<p>"Me an' you might become mates, as it were," said Jessop, extending his
+large hand again and again. "Put it there."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we'd want to know something more about one another to become real
+mates," laughed Hurd.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're a commercial traveller, as you say, and I'm the captain of
+as fine a barkey as ever sailed under Capricorn. Leastways I was, afore
+I gave up deep-sea voyages."</p>
+
+<p>"You must miss the ocean, living at Stowley."</p>
+
+<p>"Inland it is," admitted the mariner, pulling out a dirty clay pipe, at
+the conclusion of the meal, "and ocean there ain't round about fur
+miles. But I've got a shanty there, and live respectable."</p>
+
+<p>"You are able to, with the stand-by," hinted Hurd.</p>
+
+<p>Jessop nodded and crammed black tobacco, very strong and rank, into the
+bowl of his pipe with a shaking hand. "It ain't much," he admitted;
+"folks
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
+being stingy. But if I wants more," he struck the table hard, "I can get
+it. D'ye see, Mister Commercial?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see," replied Hurd, coolly. Jessop was again growing cross, and
+the detective had to be careful. He knew well enough that next morning,
+when sober, Jessop would not be so disposed to talk, but being muzzy, he
+opened his heart freely. Still, it was evident that a trifle more liquor
+would make him quarrelsome, so Hurd proposed coffee, a proposition to
+which the sailor graciously assented.</p>
+
+<p>"Cawfee," he observed, lighting his pipe, and filling the room with
+evil-smelling smoke, "clears the 'ead, not as mine wants clearing, mind
+you. But cawfee ain't bad, when rum ain't t' be 'ad."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have more rum later," hinted Hurd.</p>
+
+<p>"Put it there," said Jessop, and again the detective was forced to wince
+at the strong grip of a horny hand.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Junk appeared in answer to the tinkle of the bell and removed the
+food. Afterwards she brought in coffee, hot and strong and black, and
+Jessop drank two cups, with the result that he became quieter. Then the
+two men settled down for a pleasant conversation. At least, Jessop
+thought so, for he frequently expressed the friendliest sentiments
+towards his host. Then Matilda appeared with a bottle of rum, a kettle
+and two glasses. When she departed, Hurd intimated that he would not
+require her services again that night. This he whispered to her at the
+door, while Jessop was placing the kettle on the fire, and before
+returning to his seat, he quietly turned the key. So he had the mariner
+entirely to himself and got to business at once while the kettle boiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You have known this place for years I believe," said Hurd, taking a
+chair opposite to that of Jessop.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>
+"Did you ever drop across a man, who used to live here, called Lemuel
+Krill?"</p>
+
+<p>The other man started. "Whatever makes you arsk that?" he inquired in a
+husky voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, as a commercial I trade in books, and had to do with a
+second-hand bookseller in Gwynne Street, Drury Lane. It seems that he
+was murdered," and he eyed Jessop attentively.</p>
+
+<p>The sailor nodded and composed himself with a violent effort. "Yes,"
+said he in his husky voice, "so I heard. But what's he got to do with
+Lemuel Krill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Hurd, carelessly, "it is said Aaron Norman was Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"Might ha' bin. I don't know myself," was the gruff reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Then you did not know Lemuel Krill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," admitted the captain, reluctantly, "I did. He wos the landlord
+of this here pub, and a cuss to drink. Lor', 'ow he could drink, and did
+too. But he run away from his wife as used to keep this shanty, and she
+never heard no more of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Until she found he was rich and could leave her five thousand a year,"
+said Hurd, absently; "so like a woman."</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to know all about it, mister?" said the sailor, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I read the papers. A queer case that of Norman's death. I expect
+it was only right he should be strangled seeing he killed Lady Rachel
+Sandal in the same way."</p>
+
+<p>Jessop, resting his hands on the arms of his chair, pushed it back and
+stared with a white face. "You know of that?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? It was public talk in this place over twenty years ago. I
+understand you have been here-abouts for thirty years," went on Hurd,
+carelessly, "possibly you may recollect the case."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>
+
+<p>Jessop wiped his forehead. "I heard something about it. That there lady
+committed suicide they say."</p>
+
+<p>"I know what they say, but I want to know what you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't be arsked questions," shouted the captain, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't raise your voice," said the detective, smoothly; "we may as well
+conduct this conversation pleasantly."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't converse no more," said Jessop in a shaky voice, and staggered
+to his feet, rapidly growing sober under the influence of a deadly fear.
+Hurd did not move as the man crossed the room, but felt if the key was
+safe in his pocket. The sailor tried to open the door, and then realized
+that it was locked. He turned on his host with a volley of bad language,
+and found himself facing a levelled revolver.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down," said Hurd, quietly; "go back to your chair."</p>
+
+<p>Jessop, with staring eyes and outspread hands, backed to the wall. "Who
+are you anyhow?" he demanded, hardly able to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps that will tell you," said Hurd, and threw the warrant on the
+table. Jessop staggered forward and looked at it. One glance was
+sufficient to inform him what it was, and he sank back into his chair
+with a groan, leaving the warrant on the table. Hurd picked it up and
+slipped it into his pocket. He thought Jessop might destroy it; but
+there was no fight in the mariner.</p>
+
+<p>"And now that we understand one another," said Hurd, putting away his
+weapon, "I want to talk."</p>
+
+<p>"Sha'n't talk," said Jessop, savagely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I think so; otherwise I can make things unpleasant for you."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't arrest me. I've done nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"That may be so, but arrest you I can and I have done so now. To-morrow
+morning you will go to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>
+London in charge of a plain-clothes policeman, while I go to Stowley."</p>
+
+<p>"To my crib. No, I'm blest if you do."</p>
+
+<p>"I sha'n't go immediately to your crib," rejoined Hurd, dryly, "though I
+may do so later. My first visit will be to that old pawnbroker. I think
+if I describe you&mdash;and you are rather a noticeable man, Captain
+Jessop&mdash;he will recognize the individual who pawned an opal serpent
+brooch with him shortly after the death of Lady Rachel Sandal, to whom
+the said brooch belonged."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lie," said Jessop hoarsely, and sober enough now.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so, and perhaps it is also a lie that a man resembling yourself
+tried to get certain jewellery from a lawyer called Pash&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jessop lost his self-control, which he was trying desperately to
+preserve, and rose to his feet, white-faced and haggard. "Who are you?"
+he shouted, "who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't the warrant tell you," replied his companion, not at all upset.
+"My name is Billy Hurd. I am the detective in charge of the Norman
+murder case. And I've been looking for you for a long time, Mr. Jessop."</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you do; so sit down and talk away."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll break your head," cried the captain, swinging his huge fists.</p>
+
+<p>"Try," Hurd whipped out his revolver, but did not rise, "at the risk of
+getting a bullet through you. Pshaw, man, don't be a fool. I'm making
+things as easy for you as possible. Create a disturbance, and I'll hand
+you over to the police. A night in the village lock-up may cool your
+blood. Sit down I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>The sailor showed his teeth like those of a snarling dog and made as to
+strike the seated detective; but suddenly changing his mind, for he saw
+well enough
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
+in what danger he stood, he dropped into his chair, and, covering his
+face with his hands, groaned aloud. Hurd put away his revolver. "That's
+better," said he, pleasantly; "take a tot of rum and tell me all you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm innocent," groaned Jessop.</p>
+
+<p>"Every man is innocent until convicted by a jury," said Hurd, calmly.
+"Consider me a jury and I'll size up your case, when I hear all. Are you
+innocent of both murders?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Rachel committed suicide," said Jessop, raising a haggard face.
+"Yes&mdash;I stick to that, sir. As to Krill's death in London, I didn't
+touch him; I swear I didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"But you saw him on that night?"</p>
+
+<p>"How can you prove that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very simply. Norman&mdash;or Krill if you prefer the old name&mdash;took certain
+jewellery to Pash for safe keeping shortly before his death. You
+presented to Pash a paper, undeniably written and signed by the old man,
+saying that the jewellery was to be given up to bearer. Now, before
+taking the jewellery to Pash, Krill could not have written that paper,
+so you must have seen him during the few hours which elapsed between his
+visit to Pash and his death."</p>
+
+<p>This was clearly argued, and Jessop could not contradict. "I left him
+quite well and hearty."</p>
+
+<p>"In the cellar in Gwynne Street?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, in the cellar," admitted Jessop.</p>
+
+<p>"At what time?"</p>
+
+<p>"About half-past eight&mdash;say between eight and nine."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what happened?" asked Hurd, smoking quietly.</p>
+
+<p>The sailor twisted his big hands and groaned. Then he laid his head on
+the table and began to sob, talking brokenly and huskily. "I'm done
+for," he gasped. "I'd know'd it would come&mdash;no&mdash;I ain't
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>
+sorry. I've had a nightmare of a time. Oh&mdash;since I pawned that
+brooch&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah. Then you did pawn the brooch at Stowley?"</p>
+
+<p>Jessop sat up and wiped his eyes. "Yes, I did. But I pulled my cap down
+over my eyes and buttoned up my pea-jacket. I never thought old Tinker
+would ha' knowed me."</p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't it rather rash of you to pawn the brooch in a place where you
+were well known?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't well known. I only come at times, and then I went away. Old
+Tinker hadn't seen me more nor once or twice, and then I pulled down my
+cap and&mdash;" Jessop, badly shaken, was beginning to tell the episode over
+again, when Hurd stopped him.</p>
+
+<p>"See here," said the detective. "You say that you are innocent?"</p>
+
+<p>"I swear that I am," gasped Jessop.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. My business is not
+to hang innocent people. Take a glass of rum and tell me all you know,
+beginning with your first meeting with Krill and running down through
+the death of Lady Rachel to your last meeting in the Gwynne Street
+cellar."</p>
+
+<p>"And when you know all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll see what is to be done."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you arrest me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have arrested you. Don't make conditions with me, man," said Hurd,
+with a stern face. "The night is growing late and I want to get to the
+bottom of this business before we go to bed. Take some rum."</p>
+
+<p>Seeing there was nothing for it but to make a clean breast, Captain
+Jarvey Jessop wasted no further time in useless lamentation. He could
+have smashed Hurd easily enough, even though there was the risk of being
+shot. But the fracas would bring others on the scene, and Jessop knew he
+could not
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
+deal with the police. Therefore, he took a stiff peg and became quieter.
+In fact, when once started on his confession, he appeared to be rather
+relieved.</p>
+
+<p>"It's been a nightmare," said he, wiping his forehead. "I'm glad it's
+come to the lawr, that I am. I met Krill, as he wos then, some
+twenty-five year back by chance, as you may say"&mdash;he cast a strange look
+at the detective, which the latter noted&mdash;"yes, by chance, Mr. Hurd. I
+found he kep' the pub here, and this bein' no distance from Southampton
+I took to runnin' down here when the barkey was at anchor. Me an' Krill
+became great mates, and I'd what you might call free quarters here&mdash;yes,
+sir&mdash;it's a frozen fact."</p>
+
+<p>"Very generous of Mr. Krill," remarked Hurd, dryly, and wondering what
+the man was keeping back.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he was right enough as a mate when not drunk; but the liquor made a
+howling dorg of him. I've seen many drunk in many places," said Jessop,
+"but anyone who held his liquor wuss nor Krill I never did see. He'd
+knife you as soon as look at you when drunk."</p>
+
+<p>"But he evidently preferred strangling."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on, mate," said Jessop, with another deep pull at the rum. "I'm
+comin' to that night. We wos both on the bust, as y'may say, and Mrs.
+Krill she didn't like it, so got to bed with the child."</p>
+
+<p>"How old was the child?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maud? Oh, you might say she was thirteen or fifteen. I can't be sure of
+her age. What's up?"</p>
+
+<p>For Hurd, seeing in this admission a confirmation that Maud was either
+not Krill's child or was illegitimate, and could not inherit the money,
+had showed his feelings. However, he made some trivial excuse, not
+wishing to be too confidential, and begged Jessop to proceed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, mate," said the captain, filling another
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>
+glass of rum, "y'see the lady had come earlier and had been put to bed
+by the missus. I never saw her myself, being drinking in this very room
+along o' Krill. But <i>he</i> saw her," added Jessop, emphatically, "and said
+as she'd a fine opal brooch, which he wish he'd had, as he wanted money
+and the missus kept him tight."</p>
+
+<p>"Krill was a judge of jewels?"</p>
+
+<p>"Travelled in jewels once," said the captain. "Bless you, he could size
+up a precious stone in no time. But he sat drinking with me, and every
+now and then got out of the room, when he'd stop away for perhaps a
+quarter of an hour at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he mention the opal brooch again?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Jessop, after reflection, "he didn't. But he got so drunk
+that he began to show fight, as he always did when boozy, though a timid
+chap when sober. I concluded, wishing no row, to git to my hammock, and
+cut up stairs. Then I went by mistake into the room of that pore lady,
+carrying a candle, and saw her tied to the bedpost stone dead, with a
+silk handkerchief round her neck. I shouted out blue murder, and Mrs.
+Krill with the kid came tumbling down. I was so feared," added Jessop,
+wiping his forehead at the recollection, "that I ran out of doors."</p>
+
+<p>"What good would that do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lor', I dunno," confessed the man, shivering, "but I wos skeered out of
+my life. It wos rainin' pitchforks, as y'might say, and I raced on
+through the rain for an hour or so. Then I thought, as I wos innocent,
+I'd make tracks back, and I did. I found Krill had cut."</p>
+
+<p>"Did his wife tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she wos lying on the floor insensible where he'd knocked her down.
+And the kid&mdash;lor'," Jessop spat, "she was lying in the corner with her
+lips fastened together with the brooch."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>
+
+<p>"What?" cried Hurd, starting to his feet. "The same as her&mdash;the same as
+Norman's was?"</p>
+
+<p>Jessop nodded and drank some rum. "Made me sick it did. I took th'
+brooch away and slipped it into my pocket. Then the kid said her father
+had fastened her lips together and had knocked her mother flat when she
+interfered. I brought Mrs. Krill round and then left her with the kid,
+and walked off to Southampton. The police found me there, and I told
+them what I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you tell about the brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no, I didn't," confessed Jessop, coolly, "an' as the kid and the
+mother said nothing, I didn't see why I shouldn't keep it, wantin'
+money. So I went to Stowley and pawned it, then took a deep sea voyage
+for a year. When I come back, all was over."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think Krill murdered the woman?" asked Hurd, passing over for
+the moment the fact that Jessop had stolen the brooch.</p>
+
+<p>"He said he didn't," rejoined the man with emphasis, "but I truly
+believe, mister, as he did, one of them times, when mad with drink and
+out of the room. He wanted the brooch, d'ye see, though why he should
+have lost the loot by sealin' the kid's mouth with it I can't say."</p>
+
+<p>"When did you come across Krill again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ho," said Jessop, drawing his hand across his mouth, "'twas this way,
+d'ye see. I come round here lots, and a swell come too, a cold&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Grexon Hay," said Hurd, pointing to the photograph.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. That's him," said Jessop, staring, "and I hated him just, with his
+eye-glass and his sneerin' ways. He loved the kid, now a growed, fine
+gal, as you know, and come here often. In June&mdash;at the end of it
+anyhow&mdash;he comes and I hears him tells Mrs. Krill, who was always
+looking for her husband, that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
+a one-eyed bookseller in Gwynne Street, Drury Lane, had fainted when he
+saw the very identical brooch showed him by another cove."</p>
+
+<p>"Beecot. I know. Didn't you wonder how the brooch had left the
+pawnshop?" asked Hurd, very attentive.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I didn't," snarled Jessop, who was growing cross. "I knew old
+Tinker's assistant had sold the brooch and he didn't oughter t' have
+done it, as I wanted it back. Mrs. Krill asked me about the brooch, and
+wanted it, so I said I'd get it back. Tinker said it was gone, but wrote
+to the gent as bought it."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Simon Beecot, of Wargrove, in Essex."</p>
+
+<p>"That wos him; but the gent wouldn't give it back, so I 'spose he'd
+given it to his son. Well, then, when Mrs. Krill heard of the one-eyed
+man fainting at sight of the brooch, she knew 'twas her husband, as he'd
+one eye, she having knocked the other out when he was sober."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she go up and see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Jessop, slowly, "I don't rightly know what she did do, but
+she went up. I don't think she saw Krill at his shop, but she might have
+seen that Pash, who was Mr. Hay's lawyer, and a dirty little ape o'
+sorts he is."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha," said Hurd, to himself, "I thought Pash knew about the women
+beforehand. No wonder he stuck to them and gave poor Miss Norman the
+go-bye," he rubbed his hands and chuckled. "Well, we'll see what will
+come of the matter. Go on, Jessop."</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't much more to tell," grumbled the captain. "I heard of this,
+and I wasn't meant to hear. But I thought I'd go up and see if I could
+get money out of Krill by saying I'd tell about the murder of Lady
+Rachel."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>are</i> a scoundrel," said Hurd, coolly.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I wos 'ard up," apologized the captain, "or I wouldn't, not me. I'm
+straight enough when in cash. So I went up in July."</p>
+
+<p>"On the sixth of July?"</p>
+
+<p>"If that was the day of the murder&mdash;yes. I went up and loafed round
+until it wos dark, and then slipped through that side passage at eight
+o'clock to see Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know where to find him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that Hay knew about the chap, and said as he did business in a
+cellar after eight. So Krill let me in, thinking, I 'spose, I wos a
+customer. He'd been drinking a little and was bold enough. But when I
+said, as I'd say, he'd killed Lady Rachel, he swore he was an innercent
+babe, and cried, the drink dyin' out of him."</p>
+
+<p>"The same as it died out of you lately," said Hurd, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Go slow," grunted the captain, in a surly tone. "I ain't afraid now, as
+I ain't done nothing. I said to Krill I'd say nothin' if he'd give me
+money. He wouldn't, but said he'd placed a lot of pawned things with
+Pash, and I could have them. He then gave me a paper saying I was to
+have the things, and I went to Pash the next morning and had trouble.
+But I heard by chance," again Jessop cast a strange look at Hurd, "that
+Krill had been murdered, so I didn't wait for the lawyer to come back,
+but cut down to Southampton and went on a short voyage. Then I come here
+and you nabbed me," and Jessop finished his rum. "That's all I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you swear you left Aaron Norman alive?"</p>
+
+<p>"Meaning Krill? I do. He wasn't no use to me dead, and I made him give
+me the jewels Pash had, d'ye see."</p>
+
+<p>"But who warned you of the death when you were waiting?"</p>
+
+<p>Jessop seemed unwilling to speak, but when
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>
+pressed burst out, "'Twas a measily little kid with ragged clothes and a
+dirty face."</p>
+
+<p>"Tray," said Hurd. "Hum! I wonder how he knew of the murder before it
+got into the papers?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">MISS QIAN'S PARTY</p>
+
+
+<p>Hurd's sister was a clever young woman who in her time had played many
+parts. She began her career along with Hurd as a private detective, but
+when her brother joined the official service, Miss Hurd thought she
+would better her position by appearing on the stage, and, therefore,
+took the rather queer name of Aurora Qian. In her detective capacity she
+had often disguised herself when employed in obtaining evidence, and was
+remarkably talented in changing her face and figure. This art she used
+with great success in her new profession, and speedily made her mark as
+an impersonator of various characters out of novels. As Becky Sharp, as
+Little Dorrit, she was said to be inimitable, and after playing under
+several managements, she started, in the phrase of the profession, "a
+show of her own," and rapidly made money.</p>
+
+<p>But her great faults amongst others were vanity and extravagance, so she
+was always in need of money, and when chance offered, through her
+brother, to make any, she was not averse to returning to the spy
+business. Thus it came about that she watched Mr. Grexon Hay for many a
+long day and night, and he never suspected the pretty, fluffy, kittenish
+Miss Qian was in reality an emissary of the law. Consequently, when
+Aurora asked him to a card-party at her rooms, Hay accepted readily
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
+enough, although he was not in need of money at the time.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Qian occupied a tiny flat on the top of a huge pile of buildings in
+Kensington, and it was furnished in a gimcrack way, with more show than
+real value, and with more color than taste. Every room was of a
+different hue, with furniture and hangings to match. The drawing-room
+was pink, the dining-room green, her bedroom blue, the entrance hall
+yellow, and the extra sleeping apartment used by her companion, Miss
+Stably, was draped in purple. Some wit called the flat "the paint-box,"
+and indeed so varied were its hues that it was not a bad title to give
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Like the Becky Sharp whom she impersonated with such success, Miss Qian
+possessed a sheep-dog, not because she needed one, being very well able
+to look after herself, but because it sounded and looked respectable.
+Miss Stably, who filled this necessary office, was a dull old lady who
+dressed excessively badly, and devoted her life to knitting shawls. What
+she did with these when completed no one ever knew: but she was always
+to be found with two large wooden pins rapidly weaving the fabric for
+some unknown back. She talked very little, and when she did speak, it
+was to agree with her sharp little mistress. To make up for speaking
+little, she ate a great deal, and after dinner with her eternal knitting
+in her bony hands and a novel on her lap, was entirely happy. She was
+one of those neutral-tinted people, who seem not good enough for heaven
+and not sufficiently bad for the other place. Aurora often wondered what
+would become of Miss Stably when she departed this life, and left her
+knitting behind her. The old lady herself never gave the matter a
+thought, but lived a respectable life of knitting and eating and novel
+reading, with a regular visit to church on Sunday where she
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>
+worshipped without much idea of what the service was about.</p>
+
+<p>This sort of person exactly suited Miss Qian, who wanted a sheep-dog who
+could neither bark nor bite, and who could be silent. These
+qualifications were possessed by the old lady, and for some years she
+had trailed through a rather giddy world at Aurora's heels. In her own
+dull way she was fond of the young woman, but was far from suspecting
+that Aurora was connected in an underhand manner with the law. That
+knowledge would indeed have shaken Miss Stably to the soul, as she had a
+holy dread of the law, and always avoided the police-court column when
+she read the newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>This was the old lady who sat in the pink drawing-room to play propriety
+for Miss Qian. Lord George Sandal was present, looking rather washed
+out, but as gentlemanly as ever. Hay, with his fixed eye-glass and
+eternally cold smile was there, and a third young man, who adored Miss
+Qian, thinking her to be merely an actress, simpered across the
+card-table at his goddess. The four were playing a game which involved
+the gaining and losing of much money, and they had been engaged for
+about an hour. Miss Stably having eaten a good dinner and commenced a
+new shawl was half dosing in the corner, and paying absolutely no
+attention to the players.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a good thing we're hanging on our own hooks in this game," said
+Miss Qian, who smoked a dainty cigarette. "Were I your partner, Sandal,"
+she always addressed her friends in this free-and-easy fashion, "I'd be
+losing money. What luck you have!"</p>
+
+<p>"I never do seem to win," lamented Lord George. "Whenever I think I've
+got a good hand, the thing pans out wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Hay has got all the money," said the simpering
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>
+admirer who answered to the name of Tempest. "He and you, Miss Qian, are
+the winners."</p>
+
+<p>"I've made very little," she replied. "Hay's raking in the dollars hand
+over fist."</p>
+
+<p>"Lucky in love, unlucky at cards," said Hay, who did not like his good
+fortune to be commented upon, for reasons which Miss Qian knew. "It's
+the reverse with me&mdash;I'm lucky at cards&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And lucky in love, too," interrupted Aurora, with a grimace, "seeing
+you're going to marry that Krill heiress&mdash;if she is an heiress."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" asked Hay, who was dealing a new round.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on with the game and don't ask questions," said Miss Qian, in a
+saucy manner. "Sandal, don't stare round, but keep your eye on the
+cards," and she winked stealthily at the young lord, while Hay was
+exchanging a word with Tempest. The young man, who had spoken privately
+to her immediately before the dinner, knew well what she meant. Had Hay
+been likewise "in the know," he would scarcely have done what he did do,
+and which Sandal saw him do in a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Hay was rapidly dealing, and the cards were flying like leaves. A pile
+of gold stood beside Hay's elbow, and some silver near Tempest. The game
+commenced, and soon the players were engrossed, heedless of the patent
+snoring of Miss Stably, who, poor old thing, had succumbed to the
+lateness of the hour. Suddenly Lord George, who had been very vigilant,
+felt his foot touched under the table by Miss Qian. He rose at once and
+snatched up the gold standing near Hay.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that for?" demanded Hay, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"You're cheating," said Sandal, "and I don't play with you any more."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a lie. I did not cheat."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you did," cried Miss Qian, bending forward
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
+and seizing the cards; "we've been watching you. Tempest&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw it all right," said the other. "You took up that king&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And it's marked," said Aurora. "I believe Hay's got cards up his
+sleeve. Examine the cards."</p>
+
+<p>Hay, very pale, but still keeping his countenance, tried to object, but
+the two young men seized and held him, while Miss Qian, with a dexterity
+acquired in detective circles, rapidly searched his pockets.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's another pack," she cried, and shook an ace and two kings out of
+the detected swindler's sleeve, "and these cards&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Sandal took one and went to the lamp. "Marked, by Jove!" he cried, but
+with a stronger oath; "here's a pin-prick."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken," began Hay, quite pale.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Tempest, coolly, "we're not. Miss Qian told us you cheated,
+and we laid a trap for you. You've been trying this double card and
+marked card dodge several times this very evening."</p>
+
+<p>"And he's tried it lots of times before," said Aurora, quickly. "I have
+been at several places where Hay scooped the pool, and it was all
+cheating."</p>
+
+<p>"If it was," said Hay, with quivering lips, "why didn't you denounce me
+then and there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I denounce you now," she said; "you're cooked, my man. These
+boys will see that the matter is made public."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, yes!" cried Sandal, with a look of abhorrence at Hay, "and
+I'll prosecute you to get back those thousands you won off me."</p>
+
+<p>"I never did&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You've been rooking this boy for months," cried Miss Qian. "Here,
+Tempest, get a constable. We'll give him in charge for swindling."</p>
+
+<p>"No! no!" cried Hay, his nerve giving way under
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
+the threatened exposure; "you'll have your money back, Sandal, I swear."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord George to you now, you blackguard; and how can you pay me the
+money when I know you haven't got a cent?"</p>
+
+<p>"He intends to get it from the heiress," sniggered Aurora.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear me!" rose the plaintive voice of the sheep-dog, "what is it,
+Aurora? Anything wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"We've caught Hay cheating, that's all, and the police&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Aurora, don't bring up the police."</p>
+
+<p>"No, don't," said Hay, who was now trembling. "I'll do whatever you
+like. Don't show me up&mdash;I'm&mdash;I'm going to be married soon."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you sha'n't marry," cried Tempest, sharply; "I'll see this girl
+myself and save her from you."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't prove that I cheated," said Hay, desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we can," said George. "I, and Miss Qian, and Tempest all saw you
+cheat, and Miss Qian has the marked cards."</p>
+
+<p>"But don't expose me. I&mdash;I&mdash;" Hay broke down and turned away with a look
+of despair on his face. He cursed himself inwardly for having ventured
+to cheat when things, by the marriage with Maud Krill, would have soon
+been all right for him. "Miss Qian," he cried in a tone of agony, "give
+me another chance."</p>
+
+<p>Aurora, playing her own game, of which the two young men were ignorant,
+appeared to repent. She beckoned to Miss Stably. "Take Mr. Hay into the
+dining-room," she said, "and I'll see what I can do. But you try and
+bolt, Hay, and the news will be all over the West End to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll stop," said Hay, whose face was colorless, and, without another
+word, he followed the sheep-dog into the dining-room in an agony of mind
+better
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
+imagined than described. Then Miss Qian turned her attention to her
+guests:</p>
+
+<p>"See here, boys," she said frankly, "this is a dirty business, and I
+don't want to be mixed up with it."</p>
+
+<p>"But Hay should be exposed," insisted Sandal; "he's been rooking me, I
+do believe, for months."</p>
+
+<p>"Serve you jolly well right," said Aurora, heartlessly. "I warned you
+again and again against him. But if there's a row, where do I come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"It won't hurt you," said Tempest, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, won't it? Gambling in my flat, and all the rest of it. You boys may
+think me free and easy but I'm straight. No one can say a word against
+me. I'm not going to be made out an adventuress and a bad woman for the
+sake of that swindler, Hay. So you boys will just hold your tongues."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Sandal, "my money&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, bother your money. One would think you were a Jew. I'll see that
+Hay pays it back. He's going to marry this Krill girl, and she's able to
+supply the cash."</p>
+
+<p>"But the girl shouldn't be allowed to marry Hay," said Tempest.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you burn your fingers with other people's fire," said Aurora,
+sharply. "This girl's in love with him and will marry him in spite of
+everything. But I don't care a cent for that. It's myself I'm thinking
+of. If I get your money back, Sandal, will you hold your tongue?"</p>
+
+<p>Lord George, thinking of what his noble father would say were he
+involved in a card scandal connected with an actress, thought it just as
+well to agree. "Yes," said he, hesitatingly, "I'll not say a word, if
+you get the money back. But don't you let Hay speak to me again in
+public or I'll kick him."</p>
+
+<p>"That's your affair and his," said Aurora, delighted at having gained
+her point; "but you hold your tongue, and you, Tempest?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I'll not say a word either," said the young man, with a shrug, "though
+I don't see why you should save this blackguard's reputation."</p>
+
+<p>"It's my own I'm thinking of, so don't you make any mistake. And now I
+have both your promises?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Sandal and Tempest, thinking it best to hush the matter up;
+"but Hay&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see to him. You two boys clear out and go home to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"But we can't leave you alone with Hay," said Tempest.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll not be alone with him," cried the little woman, imperiously; "my
+companion is with me. What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"He might do you some harm."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! might he? You take me for a considerable idiot, I suppose. You get
+along, boys, and leave me to fix up things."</p>
+
+<p>Both young men protested again; but Aurora, anxious for her conversation
+with Hay, bundled them out of the flat and banged the door to, when she
+heard them whistling below for a hansom. Then she went to the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>"You come along to the drawing-room," she said to Hay. "Miss Stably,
+stop here."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't got my shawl," bleated the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, bother," Aurora ran to the other room, snatched up the shawl and
+saw Miss Stably sitting down to knit, while she led Hay back into the
+drawing-room. He looked round when he entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are they?" he asked, sitting down.</p>
+
+<p>"Gone; but it's all right. I've made them promise not to say&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Grexon Hay didn't let her finish. He fell on his knees and kissed her
+hand. His face was perfectly white, but his eyes were full of gratitude
+as he babbled his thanks. No one could have accused him of being
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
+cold then. But Miss Qian did not approve of this emotion, natural though
+it was.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, get up," she said, snatching her hand away. "I've got to speak
+straight to you. I've done a heap for you, now you've got to do a heap
+for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything&mdash;anything," said Hay, whose face was recovering its normal
+color. "You have saved me&mdash;you have."</p>
+
+<p>"And much of a thing you are to save. You'll be cheating again in a week
+or so."</p>
+
+<p>"No," cried Hay, emphatically, "I swear I'll not touch a card again.
+I'll marry Maud and turn respectable. Oh, what a lesson I've had! You
+are sure those fellows won't speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. That's all right. You can go on swindling as before, only," Miss
+Qian raised a finger, "you'll have to pay Sandal back some cash."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do that. Maud will lend me the money. Does he want all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a couple of thousand will shut his mouth. I'll not see you left.
+It's all right, so sit up and don't shake there like a jelly."</p>
+
+<p>"You're very kind to me," said Hay, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you make any mistake. So far as I am concerned you might stick in
+the mud forever. I helped you, because I want you to help me. I'm in
+want of money&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give you some."</p>
+
+<p>"Picked from that girl's pockets," said Aurora, dryly, "no, thank you.
+It might dirty my fingers. Listen&mdash;there's a reward offered for the
+discovery of the murderer of Aaron Norman. I want to get that thousand
+pounds, and you can help me to."</p>
+
+<p>Hay started to his feet with amazement. Of all the requests she was
+likely to make he never thought it would be such a one. "Aaron Norman's
+murder," he said, "what do you know of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very little, but you know a lot."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>
+
+<p>"I don't, I swear I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Pish," said Miss Qian, imperiously, "remember I've got the whip-hand,
+my boy. Just you tell me how Mrs. Krill came to strangle the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Krill?" Hay turned white again, and his eye-glass fell. "She had
+nothing to do with the matter. I swear&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Strikes me you swear too much, Mr. Hay. What about that opal brooch you
+stole from Beecot when he had the smash?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't steal it. I never saw it at the time of the accident."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you got that boy Tray to steal it."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew nothing about the boy. Besides, why should I steal that opal
+serpent brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"You wanted to buy it from Beecot, anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>Hay looked puzzled. "Yes, for a lady."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Krill?"</p>
+
+<p>"I admit that Mrs. Krill wanted it. She had associations connected with
+that brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," interrupted Aurora, glancing at the clock, "don't waste time
+in talking of Lady Rachel Sandal's death&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know about that?" stammered Hay, completely nonplussed.</p>
+
+<p>"I know a mighty lot of things. I may as well tell you," added Miss
+Qian, coolly, "since you daren't split, that I've got a lot to do with
+the secret detective service business. I'm helping another to hunt out
+evidence for this case, and I guess you know a lot."</p>
+
+<p>The man quailed. He knew that he did not stand well with the police and
+dreaded what this little fluffy woman should do. Aurora read his
+thoughts. "Yes," she said, "we know a heap about you at the Scotland
+Yard Office, and if you don't tell me all you know, I'll make things hot
+for you. This cheating to-night is only one
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
+thing. I know you are 'a man on the market,' Mr. Hay."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you wish to hear?" asked Hay, collapsing.</p>
+
+<p>"All about Mrs. Krill's connection with this murder."</p>
+
+<p>"She has nothing to do with it. Really, she hasn't. Aaron Norman was her
+husband right enough&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And he ran away from her over twenty years ago. But who told Mrs. Krill
+about him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did," confessed Hay, volubly and seeing it was best for him to make a
+clean breast of it. "I met the Krills three years ago when I was at
+Bournemouth. They lived in Christchurch, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Hotel-keepers. Well, what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fell in love with Maud and went to Christchurch to stop at 'The Red
+Pig.' She loved me, and in a year we became engaged. But I had no money
+to marry her, and she had none either. Then Mrs. Krill told me of her
+husband and of the death of Lady Rachel."</p>
+
+<p>"Murder or suicide?"</p>
+
+<p>"Suicide, Mrs. Krill said," replied Hay, frankly. "She told me also
+about the opal brooch and described it. I met Beecot by chance and
+greeted him as an old school-fellow. He took me to his attic and to my
+surprise showed me the opal brooch. I wanted to buy it for Mrs. Krill,
+but Beecot would not sell it. When next I met him, he told me that Aaron
+Norman had fainted when he saw the brooch. I thought this odd, and
+informed Mrs. Krill. She described the man to me, and especially said
+that he had but one eye. I went with Beecot to the Gwynne Street shop,
+and a single glance told me that Aaron Norman was Lemuel Krill. I told
+his wife, and she wanted to come up at once. But I knew that Aaron was
+reported rich&mdash;which I had heard through Pash&mdash;and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>
+as he was my lawyer, I suggested that the Krills should go and see him."</p>
+
+<p>"Which they did, before the murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Pash was astonished, and when he heard that Mrs. Krill was the
+real wife, he saw that Aaron Norman, as he called himself, had committed
+bigamy, and that Sylvia&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you needn't say it," said Miss Qian, angrily, "she's worth a dozen
+of that girl you are going to marry. But why did you pretend to meet
+Mrs. Krill and her daughter for the first time at Pash's?"</p>
+
+<p>"To blind Beecot. We were standing at the door when the two came out,
+and I pretended to see them for the first time. Then I told Beecot that
+I had been introduced to Maud at Pash's office. He's a clever chap,
+Beecot, and, being engaged to Sylvia Norman, I thought he might find out
+too much."</p>
+
+<p>"About the murder?"</p>
+
+<p>Hay rose and looked solemn. "I swear I know nothing of that," he said
+decidedly, "and the Krills were as astonished as I, when they heard of
+the death. They were going to see him by Pash's advice, and Mrs. Krill
+was going to prosecute him for bigamy unless he allowed her a good
+income. Death put an end to all that, so she made up the story of seeing
+the hand-bills, and then of course the will gave the money to Maud, who
+was engaged to me."</p>
+
+<p>"The will or what was called a will, gave the money to Sylvia," said
+Aurora, emphatically; "but this brooch&mdash;you didn't take it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I swear I didn't. Mrs. Krill wanted it, but I never knew it was of
+any particular importance. Certainly, I would never have risked robbing
+Beecot, and I never told that boy Tray to rob either."</p>
+
+<p>"Then who took the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say. I have told you all I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Hum," said Aurora, just like her brother, "that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
+will do to-night; but if I ask any more questions you'll have to answer,
+so now you can go. By the way, I suppose the brooch made you stick to
+Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Hay, frankly; "he was of no use to me. But while he had the
+brooch I stuck to him to get it for Mrs. Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"Queer," said Aurora. "I wonder why she wanted it so much!" but this
+question Hay was unable to answer.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">FURTHER EVIDENCE</p>
+
+
+<p>After all, Hurd did not send Jessop to town as he threatened to do.
+Evidently the captain had told him all he knew, and appeared to be
+innocent of Krill's death. But, in spite of his apparent frankness the
+detective had an idea that something was being kept back, and what that
+something might be, he determined to find out. However, his thoughts
+were turned in another direction by a note from Beecot addressed to him
+at "The Red Pig," asking him to come at once to the Jubileetown Laundry.
+"I believe we have discovered the person who stole the opal brooch from
+me," wrote Paul, "and Deborah has made a discovery connected with Norman
+which may prove to be of service."</p>
+
+<p>Wondering what the discovery might be, and wondering also who had taken
+the brooch, Hurd arranged that Jessop and Hokar should remain at
+Christchurch under the eyes of two plain-clothes officials. These
+managed their duties so dexterously that Matilda Junk was far from
+guessing what was going on. Moreover, she informed the detective, who
+she thought was a commercial gent, that she intended to pay a visit to
+her sister, Mrs. Tawsey, and demanded the address, which Hurd gave
+readily enough. He thought that if Matilda knew anything&mdash;such as the
+absence of Mrs. Krill from the hotel during the early part of
+July&mdash;Deborah might induce her to talk freely.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
+
+<p>Hokar had proved a difficult subject. Whether he was too grateful to
+Mrs. Krill to speak out, or whether he really did not understand what
+was asked of him, he certainly showed a talent for holding his tongue.
+However, Hurd saw well enough that the man was afraid of the Sahib's
+law, and when matters came to a crisis would try and prove his innocence
+even at the cost of implicating others. Therefore, with an easy mind the
+detective left these two witnesses being watched at Christchurch and
+repaired to town, where Aurora informed him of the interview with Hay.
+Billy approved of the way in which his sister had managed matters.</p>
+
+<p>"I guessed that Hay was the man who put Mrs. Krill on the track of her
+husband," he said, with satisfaction; "but I wasn't quite sure how he
+spotted the man."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the one eye identified him," said Aurora, who was eating chocolate
+as usual, "and Norman's fainting at the sight of the brooch confirmed
+Hay's belief as to who he was. I wonder he didn't make a bargain with
+Norman on his own."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shook his head. "It wouldn't have paid so well," said he, wisely.
+"Norman would have parted only with a small sum, whereas this murder
+will bring in Hay a clear five thousand a year when he marries the girl.
+Hay acted cleverly enough."</p>
+
+<p>"But I tell you Hay has nothing to do with the murder."</p>
+
+<p>"That may be so, though I don't trust him. But Mrs. Krill might have
+strangled her husband so as to get the money."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you think she did?" asked Aurora, doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, from what Jessop says, Mrs. Krill is devotedly attached
+to Maud, and she may have been anxious to revenge her daughter on Krill.
+He acted like a brute and fastened the child's lips
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>
+together, so Mrs. Krill treated him in the same way."</p>
+
+<p>"Hum," said Miss Qian, reflectively, "but can you prove that Mrs. Krill
+was in town on the night of the murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I'm going to find out," said Hurd. "All you have to do is
+to keep your eyes on Hay&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he won't cut, if that's what you mean. He thinks everything is
+square, now that I've got those boys to stop chattering. He'll marry
+Maud and annex the money."</p>
+
+<p>"He may marry Maud," said Hurd, emphatically, "but he certainly won't
+get the five thousand a year. Miss Norman will."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on," cried Aurora, shrewdly. "Maud may not be Lemuel Krill's
+child, or she may have been born before Krill married the mother, but in
+any case, Sylvia Norman isn't the child of a legal marriage. Krill
+certainly committed bigamy, so his daughter Sylvia can't inherit."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Hurd, "I can't say. I'll see Pash about the matter. After
+all, the will left the money to 'my daughter,' and that Sylvia is beyond
+doubt, whatever Maud may be. And I say, Aurora, just you go down to
+Stowley in Buckinghamshire. I haven't time to look into matters there
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want me to do there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Find out all about the life of Mrs. Krill before she married Krill and
+came to Christchurch. She's the daughter of a farmer. You'll find the
+name in this." Hurd passed along a copy of the marriage certificate
+which Mrs. Krill had given to Pash. "Anne Tyler is her maiden name. Find
+out what you can. She was married to Krill at Beechill, Bucks."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Qian took the copy of the certificate and departed, grumbling at
+the amount of work she had
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>
+to do to earn her share of the reward. Hurd, on his part, took the
+underground train to Liverpool Street Station, and then travelled to
+Jubileetown. He arrived there at twelve o'clock and was greeted by Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been watching for you all the morning," said Beecot, who looked
+flushed and eager. "Sylvia and I have made such a discovery."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd nodded good-humoredly as he entered the house and shook hands with
+the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Norman has been doing some detective business on her own account,"
+he said, smiling. "Hullo, who is this?"</p>
+
+<p>He made this remark, because Mrs. Purr, sitting in a corner of the room
+with red eyes, rose and dropped a curtsey.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm called to tell you what I do tell on my Bible oath," said Mrs.
+Purr, with fervor.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Purr can give some valuable evidence," said Paul, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, can she? Then I'll hear what she has to say later. First, I must
+clear the ground by telling you and Miss Norman what I have discovered
+at Christchurch."</p>
+
+<p>So Mrs. Purr, rather unwillingly, for she felt the importance of her
+position, was bundled out of the room, and Hurd sat down to relate his
+late adventures. This he did clearly and slowly, and was interrupted
+frequently by exclamations of astonishment from his two hearers. "So
+there," said the detective, when finishing, "you have the beginning of
+the end."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you think that Mrs. Krill killed her husband?" asked Paul,
+dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say for certain," was the cautious reply; "but I think so, on
+the face of the evidence which you have heard. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say anything," said Sylvia, before Paul
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
+could reply. "Mr. Hurd had better read this paper. It was found by
+Deborah in an old box belonging to my father, which was brought from
+Gwynne Street."</p>
+
+<p>She gave the detective several sheets of blue foolscap pinned together
+and closely written in the shaky handwriting of Aaron Norman. Hurd
+looked at it rather dubiously. "What is it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The paper referred to in that unfinished scrap of writing which was
+discovered behind the safe," explained Paul. "Norman evidently wrote it
+out, and placed it in his pocket, where he forgot it. Deborah found it
+in an old coat, she discovered in a box of clothes brought from Gwynne
+Street. They were Norman's clothes and his box, and should have been
+left behind."</p>
+
+<p>"Debby won't hear of that," said Sylvia, laughing. "She says Mrs. Krill
+has got quite enough, and she took all she could."</p>
+
+<p>"What's all this writing about?" asked Hurd, turning over the
+closely-written sheets. "To save time you had better give me a pr&eacute;cis of
+the matter. Is it important?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very I should say," responded Paul, emphatically. "It contains an
+account of Norman's life from the time he left Christchurch."</p>
+
+<p>"Hum." Hurd's eyes brightened. "I'll read it at my leisure, but at the
+present moment you might say what you can."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know a good deal of it," said Paul, who did the talking at a
+sign from Sylvia. "It seems that Norman&mdash;we'd better stick to the old
+name&mdash;left Christchurch because he was afraid of being accused of
+murdering Lady Rachel."</p>
+
+<p>"Was she really murdered?"</p>
+
+<p>"Norman doesn't say. He swears he knows nothing about the matter. The
+first intimation he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>
+had was when Jessop came down with the news after blundering into the
+wrong bedroom. But he hints that Mrs. Krill killed her."</p>
+
+<p>"Can he prove that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He can't give any proof, or, at all events, he doesn't. He declares
+that when his wife and daughter&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! does he call Maud his daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! We can talk of that later," said Paul, impatiently. "Well, then,
+Norman says he went fairly mad. Jessop had bolted, but Norman knew he
+would not give the alarm, since he might be accused himself of killing
+Lady Rachel. Maud, who had seen the body, wanted to run out and call the
+neighbors."</p>
+
+<p>"How old does Norman say she was?"</p>
+
+<p>"About fifteen; quite old enough to make things unpleasant."</p>
+
+<p>"Then she can't inherit the money," said Hurd, decisively.</p>
+
+<p>"No," cried Beecot, quickly, "both Sylvia and I think so. But to go on
+with Norman's confession. He would not let Maud go. She began to scream,
+and he feared lest she should alarm the neighbors. He tied a
+handkerchief across her lips, but she got free, and again began to
+scream. Then he cruelly fastened her lips together with the opal
+brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did he get that, if innocent?"</p>
+
+<p>"He declared that he spied it on the floor of the sitting-room, near his
+wife's feet, and then hints that she strangled Lady Rachel to get it and
+turn it into money as she was desperately in need of cash for Maud. Mrs.
+Krill idolized the child."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that," snapped Hurd. "Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"When Norman fastened the child's lips together, Mrs. Krill threw
+herself on him in a rage. He knocked her insensible, and then ran away.
+He walked through the night, until, at dawn, he came to a distant
+railway station. There he took a ticket
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>
+and went to London. He concealed himself until there was no chance of
+his being discovered, and besides, saw the verdict of the jury in the
+newspapers. But he was determined he would not go back to his wife,
+because she threatened him."</p>
+
+<p>"In what way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Paul, while Sylvia shuddered, "in a strange way. When he
+fastened the child's lips together, Mrs. Krill said that she would do
+the same to him one day and with the same brooch."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd uttered an exclamation. "So that was why she wanted the brooch so
+much?" he exclaimed eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And she told Hay she wanted it though she did not reveal her
+reason. She said if she got the brooch he would be allowed to marry
+Maud, with whom Hay was deeply in love. Hay stumbled across me by
+accident, and I happened to have the brooch. The rest you know."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Hurd, "I don't know how the brooch came into the possession
+of Mrs. Krill again, to use in the cruel way she threatened."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Sylvia, quickly, "we aren't sure if Mrs. Krill <i>did</i> get
+the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"The evidence is against her," said Hurd; "remember the threat&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but wait till you hear Mrs. Purr," said Paul, "but just a moment,
+Hurd. You must learn how Norman laid the foundations of his fortune."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I forget! Well?" and the detective settled himself to listen
+further.</p>
+
+<p>"He was hard up and almost starving for a long time after he came to
+London," explained Paul, "then he got a post in a second-hand bookshop
+kept by a man called Garner in the Minories. He had a daughter,
+Lillian&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother," put in Sylvia, softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," went on Beecot, quickly, "and this girl
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
+being lonely fell in love with Norman, as he now called himself. He
+wasn't an attractive man with his one eye, so it is hard to say how Miss
+Garner came to love him. But she married him in the end. You'll find
+everything explained at length in the paper we gave you. Then old Garner
+died, and Lillian inherited a considerable sum of money, together with
+the stock. Her husband removed the books to Gwynne Street and started
+business. But with the money he began to trade in jewels, and you know
+how he got on."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all plain enough," said Hurd, putting the confession of Norman
+into his pocket. "I suppose the man dreaded lest his first wife should
+turn up."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! And that's why he fainted when he saw the brooch. Not knowing that
+Jessop had removed it from Maud's mouth and pawned it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not so sure of that," said Hurd, quickly. "Bart overheard him
+talking of Stowley and the pawnbroker there."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Paul, with a shrug, "he says nothing about it in the
+confession. Perhaps he did trace the brooch to the Stowley shop, but if
+so, I wonder he did not get it, seeing he wanted it. But when he saw it
+in my possession, he thought I might know of Mrs. Krill and might put
+her on the track. Hence his fainting. Later, he learned how I became
+possessed of it, and tried to buy it. Then came the accident, and I
+really believed for a time that Hay had stolen it."</p>
+
+<p>"Aurora says he swore he did not."</p>
+
+<p>"And he didn't," said Paul, going to the door. "Mrs. Purr!"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say that old woman prigged it?" asked Hurd.</p>
+
+<p>"No. But she warned me against that boy Tray on the day Deborah was
+married. Later, I asked her what she meant, and she then told me that
+she
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>
+had learned from Tray's grandmother, a drunken old thief, how the boy
+brought home the opal brooch, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here Mrs. Purr, who had entered and was dropping curtseys to the majesty
+of the law, as represented by Hurd, thought an undue advantage was being
+taken of her position. She wished to talk herself, and interrupted Paul,
+in a shrill voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Granny Clump, she is," said Mrs. Purr, folding her hands under her
+apron. "Tray's gran'mother, as 'is name is Tray Clump, I swear on my
+Bible oath. A wicked old woman as is famous for drink&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've heard of her," said the detective, remembering; "she's been up
+heaps of times."</p>
+
+<p>"And grows no better," wailed Mrs. Purr, bibulously, for she had been
+strengthening herself for the interview with frequent libations of gin.
+"Oh, what a thing strong drink is, sir! But Granny Clump, bein' ill with
+the lungses, and me bein' 'elpful in sich cases, 'aving bin a nuss, when
+young, as I won't deceive you by denying, called on me to be a good
+Smart 'un. And I wos, though she swore awful, saying she wanted gin an'
+jellies, an' could 'ave 'ad them, if that limb&mdash;so did she name Tray,
+gentlemen both&mdash;'ad only 'anded to 'er the rich brooch he brought 'ome,
+just afore he went to earn a decent livin' at the lawr orfice, which 'is
+name is Pash&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ha," said Hurd, thoughtfully, "I'll see the boy."</p>
+
+<p>"You can see him now," said Beecot, unexpectedly. "When I learned this
+from Mrs. Purr and knew you were coming, I sent a message to Pash's
+office for the boy. He came up quite unsuspectingly, but he refused to
+speak. I shut him up in a back room, and Deborah has been watching
+him&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"An' the languige of that blessed limb!" exclaimed Mrs. Purr, raising
+her hands.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Bring him in," said Hurd. "Miss Norman, if the boy uses bad language,
+you needn't stay."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia, having heard what Tray could do in this way, needed no further
+hint. She left the room gladly, and told Deborah to bring along her
+prisoner. Shortly, the noise of kicking and strong language was heard
+coming nearer, and Deborah, with a red face and a firm mouth, appeared
+at the door, holding aloft a small boy who was black in the face with
+rage. "There," said Deborah, flinging Tray in a heap at the detective's
+feet, "if me an' Bart 'ave sich a brat, I 'ope he dies in his cradle,
+instead of growing to a galler's thief in th' use of words which make me
+shudder, let alone my pretty. Ugh!" she shook her fist at Tray. "You Old
+Bailey viper, though young at that."</p>
+
+<p>"Here," said Tray, rising, much dishevelled, but with a white face, "let
+me go. I'll 'ave the lawr of you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll attend to that, my lad," said Hurd, dryly. "Now, then, where did
+you get that brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sha'n't tell," snapped the boy, and put his tongue out.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd gave him a smack with an open hand on the side of his face, and
+Master Clump began to blubber.</p>
+
+<p>"Assalting me&mdash;oh, won't you ketch it," he raged in his puny wrath. "My
+master's a law-cove, and he'll 'ave y' up before the beak."</p>
+
+<p>"You answer my questions," said Hurd, sternly, "or you'll get another
+clout. You know who I am well enough. Make a clean breast of it, you
+imp, or I'll lock you up."</p>
+
+<p>"If I make a clean breast will you let me cut?" asked Tray, beginning to
+whimper, but with a cunning gleam in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see, when I know what you have to say."</p>
+
+<p>Tray looked round the room to see if there was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
+any way of escape. But Paul guarded the closed window and Deborah,
+itching to box his ears, stood before the door. Before him was the
+stern-faced detective with whom Tray knew well enough he dare not
+trifle. Under these circumstances he made the best of a bad job, and
+told what he knew although he interpolated threats all the time. "Wot
+d'y want with me?" he demanded sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you find that brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"I prigged it from Mr. Beecot's pocket when he wos smashed."</p>
+
+<p>"Did Mr. Hay tell you to steal it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how did you know the brooch was in my pocket?" asked Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"I was a-dodgin' round the shorp," snapped Tray, "and I 'eard Mr. Norman
+an' Mr. Beecot a-talkin' of the brooch; Mr. Beecot said as he 'ad the
+brooch in 'is pocket&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I certainly did," said Paul, remembering the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, when the smash come, I dodged in and prigged it. T'wos easy
+'nough," grinned Tray, "for I felt it in 'is bres' poket and collared
+it. I wanted to guv it t' th' ole man, thinkin' he'd pay fur it, as he
+said he would. But arter the smash I went 'ome t' m' grann' and hid the
+brooch. W'en I wos a-lookin' at it at night, I sawr 'er a-lookin' at it,
+and she grabbed it. I cut away with m'own property, not wishin' to be
+robbed by the ole gal."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do then?"</p>
+
+<p>Tray wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "I 'eard that Mr.
+Norman wos dead&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and you told Jessop so in the office. How did you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause I went to the shorp in th' mornin' to sell the brooch to th' ole
+man. He was a goner, so I
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>
+cut to Mr. Pash, as wos his lawyer, and said I'd sell 'im the brooch."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" cried Hurd, rising. "You gave the brooch to Mr. Pash?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yuss. He said he'd 'ave me up for stealin', and wouldn't guv me even a
+bob fur it. But he said I'd be his noo orfice boy. I thought I'd be
+respectable, so I went. And now," ended Master Clump in a sullen manner,
+"you knows all, and I ain't done nothin', so I'm orf."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah caught him by the tail of his jacket as he made a dart at the
+door and swung him into the middle of the room. Hurd laid hands on him.
+"You come along with me," he said. "I'll confront you with Pash."</p>
+
+<p>Tray gave a howl of terror. "He'll kill me," he shouted, "as he killed
+the old cove. Yuss. <i>He</i> did it. Pash did it," and he howled again.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">WHAT PASH SAID</p>
+
+
+<p>In a smoking compartment, which the three had to themselves, Hurd
+resumed his examination of Tray. They were now on their way to Liverpool
+Street and thence the detective intended to convey the boy to Pash's
+office in Chancery Lane. Paul sat in one corner much excited over the
+turn events had taken. He began to think that the assassin of Aaron
+Norman would be found after all. More, he believed that Sylvia would yet
+inherit the five thousand a year she was entitled to, morally, if not
+legally. Hurd, in another corner, pulled Tray roughly towards him, and
+shook his finger in the lad's face. The boy was sulky and defiant, yet
+there was a trace of fear in his eyes, and the reason of this Hurd
+wished to learn.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a young liar," said Hurd, emphatically, "and not a clever one
+either. Do you think to play the fool with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've tole you all straight," grumbled Tray.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you haven't. Anyone can see that you've made a mistake. I leave it
+to Mr. Beecot yonder."</p>
+
+<p>"I was about to draw your attention to the mistake," said Paul; "you
+mean the discrepancy in time."</p>
+
+<p>Master Clump started and became more sulky than ever. He cast down his
+cunning eyes and shuffled with his feet while Hurd lectured him. "You
+know well enough," said the detective, sharply, "that the brooch was
+boned by you on the very evening when
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>
+the murder took place. It was then that Mr. Beecot met with his
+accident. Therefore, you could not have given the brooch to Mr. Pash the
+<i>next</i> morning, as it had been used on the previous night."</p>
+
+<p>"Sha'n't say anythin' more," retorted Tray, defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, won't you?" cried Hurd, ironically, "we'll see about that. You told
+that lie about the time to account for your knowing of the murder before
+anyone else did."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Tray, decidedly, "I did go to the shorp in th' mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"That you may have done, but not to sell the brooch. Mr. Pash had taken
+it from you on the previous night."</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't," denied the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Then in that case you've told a lie. Pash never had the brooch, and has
+nothing to do with the murder."</p>
+
+<p>"He <i>did</i> prig the brooch from me, and he <i>did</i> kill the ole cove."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we'll see what Mr. Pash will say when you accuse him," said Hurd;
+"but I don't believe one word of it. It's my opinion that you gave that
+brooch to a third party on the same evening as you stole it. Now, then,
+who did you give it to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Pash," persisted Tray.</p>
+
+<p>"On the same evening?"</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply to this. Tray set his lips firmly and refused to
+speak. Hurd shook an admonitory finger again. "You can't play fast and
+loose with me, my lad," he said grimly; "if you didn't part with that
+brooch, you must be mixed up in the crime yourself. Perhaps you pinned
+the poor wretch's mouth together. It's just the sort of cruel thing a
+young Cain like you would do."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't," said Master Clump, doggedly; "you
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
+take me to master, and I'll tell him what I tells you. He's the one."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shook the boy to make him talk more, but Tray simply threw himself
+on the floor of the carriage and howled. The detective therefore picked
+him up and flung him into a corner. "You stop there, you little
+ruffian," he said, seriously annoyed at the boy's recalcitrants; "we'll
+speak again when we are in Mr. Pash's office." So Tray curled up on the
+cushion, looked savagely at the detective and held his tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think will be the end of all this?" asked Paul, when Master
+Clump was thus disposed of.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord knows," replied Hurd, wiping his face. "I never had a harder case
+to deal with. I thought Hay had a hand in it, but it seems he hadn't,
+bad lot as he is, asking your pardon, Mr. Beecot, since you're his
+friend."</p>
+
+<p>"That I am not," disclaimed Beecot, emphatically; "there's a young
+lawyer I know, Ford is his name. I went to see him as to what chances
+Sylvia had of getting the money. He was at school with me, and
+remembered Hay. He said that Hay was dismissed from Torrington School
+for stealing."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you know that yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I had left the school&mdash;I was ill at home with scarlet fever. But
+Hay apparently always has been a bad lot. He and that Krill pair are
+well matched, for I believe the mother is bad, even if the daughter Maud
+isn't. By the way her age&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>Hurd nodded. "I believe she was fifteen at the time of the death of Lady
+Rachel. If so, she can't be legitimate or may not be the daughter of
+Aaron Norman. However, I've asked my sister to look up Mrs. Krill's past
+life in Stowley, where she comes from."</p>
+
+<p>"But she wasn't married to Krill at Stowley?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. But she lived there as Anne Tyler. From
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>
+the certificate she was married to Krill at a small parish church twenty
+miles from Stowley, so Aurora will go there. But I want her to stop at
+Stowley first and learn all she can about Anne Tyler."</p>
+
+<p>"Beechill's the name of the parish in which she was married to Krill
+before she came to Christchurch," said Paul, musingly, "so I expect they
+lived there. Miss Qian might search also for the certificate of Maud
+Krill's birth."</p>
+
+<p>"I told her to, and, failing that, she's to search in Christchurch. We
+must get the certificate of birth somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"Hurd," said Paul, rather diffidently, "I hope you won't be annoyed, but
+I have already asked my friend Ford to give notice to Pash to produce
+the certificate."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied the detective, "you might have told me; but no great
+harm is done. What does Pash say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. Ford has not let me know yet. Here we are."</p>
+
+<p>This remark was caused by the stopping of the train at Liverpool Street
+Station. A number of people were returning from their employment in the
+city to the country, and the platforms were crowded. Hurd grasped Master
+Clump by the arm and marched him along. But in the confusion of finding
+his ticket at the barrier, he happened to let go, almost without
+thinking. In a moment Tray had darted through the barrier and was lost
+in the crowd. Hurd sprang after him, and left Paul to explain. He
+hurriedly did so, and then went out to see if the detective had caught
+the boy.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd was nowhere to be seen, neither was Tray. The crowd was increasing
+thick, and Beecot was at a loss what to do. After waiting for an hour
+without finding the pair, he thought he would go to Pash's office. It
+might be that Hurd, having caught Tray,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>
+would take him there at once, leaving Beecot to follow. So Paul got on
+to the metropolitan railway and alighted at the Temple Station. Thence
+he walked up to the office in Chancery Lane.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Tray?" asked Paul, of the one clerk in the outer room, who was
+writing for dear life.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sir," said the clerk; "he went out this morning and
+hasn't been back all day. Mr. Pash is very angry with him."</p>
+
+<p>Apparently Hurd had not caught the boy yet, or if he had, did not intend
+to bring him to the office. "Can I see Mr. Pash?" asked Paul, thinking
+he might as well make some use of his time.</p>
+
+<p>The clerk inquired if the solicitor would see Beecot, and presently
+ushered him into the inner room, where Pash sat looking more like a
+monkey than ever. He did not appear at all pleased to see the young man,
+and sucked in his cheek with a crabbed air.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mr. Beecot, what can I do for you?" he snarled.</p>
+
+<p>"You might be civil in the first place," said Paul quietly, taking a
+chair. "You haven't behaved over well to Miss Norman and me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Pash, coolly, "have you come to reproach me with that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never waste time," rejoined Paul, equally coolly. "I'll leave you to
+your conscience."</p>
+
+<p>Pash shrugged his shoulders and put his feet on the rungs of his chair.
+"I think my conscience can stand that," he said; "it's business, Mr.
+Beecot, business. By the way, I have received a request from Mr. Ford of
+Cheapside to produce the certificate of birth of Miss Krill. What is the
+meaning of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you know very well, Mr. Pash."</p>
+
+<p>"I profess my ignorance," said Pash, ironically,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
+although he looked uneasy, and was apparently lying.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case you had better wait till you hear from Mr. Ford."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you employing Mr. Ford, may I ask?"</p>
+
+<p>Paul nodded. "On behalf of Miss Norman," said he, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," sneered the monkey, "you think you'll get the money."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait till you hear from Mr. Ford," retorted Paul again, and enjoyed the
+baffled expression on Mr. Pash's wrinkled face. "By the way, sir, why
+did you not tell Hurd that Tray gave you the opal brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>Pash turned all the colors of the rainbow. "Does that brat I took into
+my office out of charity dare to say that he did."</p>
+
+<p>"He does, and what is more, Mr. Hurd is bringing him here to make the
+statement, face to face with you. I am determined to get to the bottom
+of this case, sir, for Miss Norman's sake. And the possession of the
+brooch forms an important link."</p>
+
+<p>"How so?"</p>
+
+<p>"The person who had that brooch on the evening of the sixth of July
+murdered Norman," said Paul, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Pash jumped up and chattered like a baboon in a rage. "Do you mean to
+accuse me?" he demanded. "Take care&mdash;take care."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't accuse you. Tray does."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lie&mdash;a lie&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't excite yourself, Mr. Pash. You'll need all your wits to convince
+Hurd. Tray accuses you, and Hurd suspects you. I have nothing to do with
+the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"You put Hurd up to this," foamed Pash, hardly able to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me. Hurd is working for the reward offered by your client. Don't
+you think it was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
+rather foolish of her to offer such a large reward, Mr. Pash, even
+though she did so to avert suspicion?"</p>
+
+<p>The solicitor changed color again. "I don't understand you."</p>
+
+<p>Paul shrugged his shoulders and rose to go. "Perhaps Mr. Hurd will
+explain," he said, and made for the door.</p>
+
+<p>Pash, with his monkey face much perplexed, sat hunched in his chair,
+biting his fingers. As Paul laid his hand on the knob, he called him
+back. "I can explain," he said nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to me," said Paul, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"I prefer to do so to you," said the lawyer, hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why to me particularly."</p>
+
+<p>"Because I don't think I have acted very well towards Miss Norman, and,
+as you are to marry her, you may be able to arrange&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To make peace I suppose you mean," burst out Beecot; "no, Mr. Pash, you
+have acted like a scoundrel. You left that poor girl in the lurch as
+soon as you found that Miss Krill was&mdash;as you thought&mdash;legally entitled
+to the money."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by hinting she isn't?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you know very well what her age is," retorted Paul. "This
+matter will be shifted to the bottom, Mr. Pash, by my friend Ford, and
+if things are as I think they are, Miss Krill won't keep that money. You
+know very well&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Norman won't get the money either," snarled Pash, "I know that
+very well. Leastways," he added, "without my assistance."</p>
+
+<p>"More of your crooked ways," said Paul, indignantly. "Tell what you like
+to Hurd. I refuse to listen."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke he opened the door and found himself facing Hurd who was red
+and hot. The detective stepped into the office, and as he passed Paul,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>
+whispered, "Hold your tongue about the boy," then he turned to Mr. Pash.
+"Well, sir," he puffed, "I have had a job catching up Mr. Beecot. No
+doubt you know why I have come?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Pash, dryly; "I don't see Tray."</p>
+
+<p>"Tray will keep. I've got him safe under lock and key. Before bringing
+you face to face with him I thought it best to give you an opportunity
+of clearing yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Of what?" asked Pash, in a brazen manner.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd looked at Beecot who spoke. "Mr. Pash knows very well that Tray
+accuses him of the crime," he said. "I told him so, and he professed his
+readiness to explain to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Hurd, "shut the door, Mr. Beecot. No need to let all London
+know the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> don't know it," said Pash, as Paul closed the door and returned to
+his seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good," rejoined the detective, calmly, "we'll assume for the sake
+of argument that you did not strangle Norman."</p>
+
+<p>"That I certainly did not."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you know who did. Come, sir," Hurd became stern; "this boy Tray
+says he gave the opal brooch to you. And I believe he did. You would not
+have taken him into your office&mdash;a boy off the streets, and with a bad
+character at that&mdash;unless you wanted to bribe him to hold his tongue."</p>
+
+<p>"I had no need to bribe," said Pash, gnawing his finger nails and rather
+cowed by this direct attack. "The boy <i>did</i> show me the opal brooch, and
+I took it from him to return to Norman."</p>
+
+<p>"When did you receive it?" asked Hurd, pulling out his book. "Be
+careful, Mr. Pash, I'll take down what you say."</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to conceal," said Pash, in quite an unnecessarily
+injured manner. "I had employed the boy on several errands, and he knew
+I was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>
+Norman's lawyer. On the evening of the sixth of July&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And the evening of the murder," said Hurd; "are you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take my oath on it. The boy told me that Mr. Beecot had met with
+an accident and that a blue velvet case containing a brooch had fallen
+out of his pocket."</p>
+
+<p>"It was stolen," said Beecot, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"Tray was not such a fool as to tell me that," replied the lawyer,
+dryly; "he said that he picked the case up out of the mud, and took it
+home to his garret. His grandmother, who is a notorious thief, wanted to
+get it, and pawn it for drink, but Tray ran away with it and came to me
+about five o'clock. He gave me the brooch and asked me to take charge of
+it, as he expected to get money for it from Aaron Norman who wanted it."</p>
+
+<p>"Tray overheard my conversation with Norman," said Paul, angrily, "and
+knew the brooch was mine&mdash;so did you, Mr. Pash."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the solicitor, coolly, "what of that? Norman was my client
+and wanted the brooch. I intended to keep it and then see you, so that a
+sale might be arranged. Norman spoke to me about the brooch several
+times and wanted it for reasons you may not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, we know," said Hurd, sardonically; "we know much more than you
+give us credit for, Mr. Pash. Well, you saw Norman about the jewel later
+that evening. I suppose you intend to tell us you gave him the brooch
+then."</p>
+
+<p>"I intend to tell nothing of the sort," retorted Pash, after a few
+moments' thought. "I see that things are coming to a crisis, and I would
+like to see Miss Norman reinstated in her rights."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Paul, indignantly, "and you did your best to give the money
+to Maud Krill!"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Because I believed she was legally entitled to it," explained Pash,
+lamely; "but since&mdash;no," he broke off, "I'll say nothing just now. I
+alone can put the matter right, and I refuse to do so unless I have Miss
+Norman's promise that I shall keep the business."</p>
+
+<p>Paul would have refused then and there, but Hurd, more astute,
+interrupted his angry speech. "We'll see about that later, Mr. Pash," he
+said, soothingly; "meanwhile, what did you do with the brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"I laid it on the table there. The case was open, as I had been looking
+at it. I sent Tray out of the room and attended to my usual business.
+Several clients came and went, and I forgot about the opal serpent. Then
+I went to see my clerk outside about a deed. I was with him for some
+minutes. When I recollected the brooch before I went home&mdash;for I
+intended to take it with me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop," interrupted Hurd, "you were here till Aaron Norman came along
+with the jewels, so you must have missed the brooch before he came or he
+would have taken it, seeing it was exposed on the table."</p>
+
+<p>"My esteemed client did not come till seven," said Pash, annoyed at
+being detected in trickery. "He walked about with the bags of jewels for
+some time, not being able to make up his mind to give them to me, which
+he did for safe keeping."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he expected a visit from his wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say," said the solicitor, with an air of fatigue. "He certainly
+hinted that he wanted the jewels placed away safely in case someone
+connected with the opal brooch should come."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps Captain Jessop, who did come," said Paul, suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't mention the name of Jessop," snapped Pash. "Had he hinted at
+a sailor I would have known who my nautical visitor was."</p>
+
+<p>"We know all about that," said Hurd, waving his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>
+hand; "But if Norman came to you at seven, how did you manage to prevent
+him meeting his wife in this office?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she was&mdash;What do you mean?" asked Pash, breaking off, and conscious
+that he was letting slip something he had rather had not been known.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd saw the slip and Pash's confusion and at once made every use of the
+opportunity. In fact, he played a game of bluff. Shaking his finger he
+approached the little lawyer. "Do you think I come here unprepared?" he
+asked, solemnly; "do you think I have not been to 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch and learned that Mrs. Krill knew of her husband's
+whereabouts, through Hay, long before the day she came to you with the
+lying story about the hand-bills? Hay has confessed his share in the
+business of a false introduction to throw Mr. Beecot off the scent,
+seeing that he was defending Miss Norman's interests. Do you think I
+don't know that this woman Krill came to see you, through Hay, whose
+lawyer you are? She was here on that fatal evening," said Hurd, making a
+bold shot, "how did you prevent her seeing Norman?"</p>
+
+<p>Pash was completely thrown off his balance by this volley of language
+and presumption of knowledge. "Mrs. Krill left at six," he gasped,
+backing to the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"And carried off the brooch?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure&mdash;I can't say&mdash;I <i>did</i> miss the brooch&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"After Mrs. Krill left?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, when Norman came. I intended to show him the brooch and found it
+gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Krill left at six. Between six and seven did any other client come
+into the office?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;no&mdash;I can't say. Well," Pash broke down in despair seeing that his
+lies were not believed, "I think Mrs. Krill did steal the brooch."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Quite so, and murdered her husband!" Hurd went to the door and took
+Beecot's arm. "I only hope you won't be brought up as an accessory
+before the fact, Mr. Pash," and disregarding the lawyer's exclamations
+he dragged Paul outside. In Chancery Lane he spoke. "I've bluffed him
+fine," he said, "that boy is lost. Can't see him anywhere. But we're
+getting at the truth at last."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">MRS. KRILL AT BAY</p>
+
+
+<p>Next day Hurd did not go to see Mrs. Krill as he had intended, but spent
+his time in hunting for the missing boy. Tray, however, was not to be
+found. Being a guttersnipe and accustomed to dealing with the police he
+was thoroughly well able to look after himself, and doubtless had
+concealed himself in some low den where the officers of the law would
+not think of searching for him. However, the fact remained that, in
+spite of the detective's search, he could not be caught, and the
+authorities were much vexed. To unravel the case completely Tray was a
+necessary witness, especially as, even when examined at Jubileetown,
+Hurd shrewdly suspected he had not confessed all the truth. However,
+what could be done was done, and several plain-clothes detectives were
+set to search for the missing boy.</p>
+
+<p>Pash remained quiet for, at all events, the next four-and-twenty hours.
+Whether he saw Mrs. Krill or not during that time Hurd did not know and,
+truth to say, he cared very little. The lawyer had undoubtedly acted
+dishonestly, and if the matter were made public, there would be every
+chance that he would be struck off the rolls. To prevent this Pash was
+quite ready to sell Mrs. Krill and anyone else connected with the
+mystery. Also, he wished to keep the business of Miss Norman, supposing
+the money&mdash;as he hinted might be the case through his assistance&mdash;came
+back to her; and this might be
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>
+used as a means to make him speak out. Hurd was now pretty sure that
+Mrs. Krill was the guilty person.</p>
+
+<p>"She knew Pash through Hay," argued the detective, while thinking over
+the case, "and undoubtedly came to see him before Norman's death, so
+that Pash might suggest ways and means of getting the better of the old
+man by means of the bigamy business. Mrs. Krill was in the Chancery Lane
+office when the brooch left by Tray was on the table, and Mrs. Krill,
+anxious to get it, no doubt slipped it into her pocket when Pash was
+talking to his clerk in the outer room. Then I expect she decided to
+punish her husband by fastening his lips together as he had done those
+of her daughter twenty and more years ago. I can't exactly see why she
+strangled him," mused Hurd, "as she could have got the money without
+proceeding to such an extreme measure. But the man's dead, and she
+killed him sure enough. Now, I'll get a warrant out and arrest her
+straight away. There's quite enough evidence to justify her being taken
+in charge. Hum! I wonder if she made use of that young devil of a Tray
+in any way? Well," he rose and stretched himself, "I may force her to
+speak now that she is in a corner."</p>
+
+<p>Having made up his mind Hurd went to work at once, and the next day,
+late in the afternoon, he was driving in a cab to No. 32<span class="smcap">A</span> Hunter Street,
+Kensington, with the warrant in his pocket. He also had with him a
+letter which he had received from Miss Qian, and written from Beechill
+in Buckinghamshire. Aurora had made good use of her time and had learned
+a number of facts connected with Mrs. Krill's early life which Hurd
+thought would prove of interest to the woman. In one way and another the
+case was becoming plain and clear, and the detective made sure that he
+would gain the reward. The irony
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>
+of the thing was, that Mrs. Krill, with a view to throwing dust in the
+eyes of the law, had offered a bribe of one thousand pounds for the
+discovery of the assassin. She little thought when doing so that she was
+weaving a rope for her own neck.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd had brought a plain-clothes policeman with him, and this man
+remained outside in a hansom while Hurd rang the bell. In a few minutes
+the door was opened and the detective sent up his card. Mrs. Krill
+proved to be at home and consented to receive him, so, shortly, the man
+found himself in an elegantly-furnished drawing-room bowing before the
+silent and sedate daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"You wish to see my mother," said Maud, with her eternal smile. "She
+will be down in a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"I await her convenience," said Hurd, admiring the handsome looks of the
+young woman, although he plainly saw that she was&mdash;as he phrased it&mdash;"no
+chicken."</p>
+
+<p>After a few words Miss Krill rang the bell. "I want these things taken
+away," she said, pointing to a workbasket and some millinery with which
+she had been engaged when Hurd was announced, "then I shall leave you to
+speak to my mother."</p>
+
+<p>The detective wondered if she was too fine a lady to remove these things
+herself, but his surprise ceased when the door opened and no less a
+person than Matilda Junk appeared. He guessed at once that the landlady
+of "The Red Pig" had come up to see her sister and had related details
+about her visitor. Probably Mrs. Krill guessed that Hurd had been asking
+questions, and Matilda had been introduced to see if he was the man. He
+became certain of this when Miss Junk threw up her hands. "The
+commercial gent," she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said Maud, smiling smoothly. "This is Mr. Hurd, the detective,
+who is searching for the assassin of my dear father."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Lor,'" said Matilda, growing red. "And he's the man as came to ask
+questions at the 'otel. I do call it bold of you, Mister Policeman."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Hurd, swinging his hat lazily, and looking from one to the
+other, quite taking in the situation, "you answered very few of my
+questions, so that is all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you go down to Christchurch?" asked Miss Krill.</p>
+
+<p>"If I have to find out who killed your father," said Hurd, with an
+accent on the word "father," "it was necessary that I should learn about
+his past life as Lemuel Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"My mother could have informed you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I guessed as much, and, as Miss Junk would not speak, I have come to
+question Mrs. Krill. Ah, here she is." Hurd rose and bowed. "I am glad
+to see you, madam."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill, who was as plump and smiling and smooth-faced and severe as
+ever, bowed and rubbed her white hands together. At a sign from Maud,
+Matilda gathered up the fancy work and went out of the room with many
+backward glances. These were mostly indignant, for she was angry at
+Hurd's deception. "Do you wish my daughter to stay?" asked Mrs. Krill,
+smoothly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is as she pleases," said the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you, mother," said Maud, shuddering, "I have heard quite
+enough of my poor father's terrible death," and she swept out of the
+drawing-room with a gracious smile.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor child is so sensitive," sighed Mrs. Krill, taking a seat with
+her back to the window. Whether this was done to conceal her age, or the
+expression of her face during a conversation which could not fail to
+prove trying, Hurd was unable to determine. "I trust, Mr. Hurd, you have
+come with good news," said the widow.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>
+
+<p>"What would you call good news?" asked the detective, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"That you had traced the assassin," she replied coolly.</p>
+
+<p>Hurd was amazed at this brazen assurance, and thought that Mrs. Krill
+must be quite convinced that she had covered up every trail likely to
+lead to the discovery of her connection with the murder.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll leave you to judge whether I have been successful," he said
+calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be pleased to hear," was the equally calm reply. But as Mrs.
+Krill spoke she glanced towards a gorgeous tapestry curtain at the end
+of the room, and Hurd fancied he saw it shake. It suddenly occurred to
+him that Maud was behind. Why she should choose this secret way of
+listening when she could have remained it was difficult to say, and he
+half thought he was mistaken. However, listening openly or secretly, did
+not matter so far as the daughter was concerned, so Hurd addressed
+himself to Mrs. Krill in a loud and cheerful voice. She composed herself
+to listen with a bland smile, and apparently was quite ignorant that
+there was anything wrong.</p>
+
+<p>"I was lately down at Christchurch, madam&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So my servant, Matilda Junk, said."</p>
+
+<p>"It was necessary that I should go there to search out your husband's
+past life. In that past I fancied, might be found the motive for the
+commission of the crime."</p>
+
+<p>"I could have saved you the journey," said Mrs. Krill, shrugging her
+plump shoulders. "I can tell you what you wish to know."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case I will relate all that I have learned, and perhaps you
+will correct me if I am wrong."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill bowed but did not commit herself to speech. For the sake of
+effect the detective took out a sheaf of notes, but in reality he had
+the various
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>
+points of the case at his finger tips. "You will excuse me if I talk on
+very private matters," he said, apologetically, "but as we are alone,"
+again Mrs. Krill glanced at the curtain and thereby confirmed Hurd's
+suspicions of an unseen listener, "you will not mind my being, perhaps,
+personal."</p>
+
+<p>"Personal," echoed Mrs. Krill, a keen look coming into her hard eyes,
+and she stopped rubbing her hands together.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes," admitted Hurd, with affected reluctance. "I had to look
+into your past as well as into that of your husband's."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill's eyes grew harder than ever. She scented danger. "My past is
+a most uninteresting one," she said, coldly. "I was born at Stowley, in
+Buckinghamshire, and married Mr. Krill at Beechill, which is a few miles
+from that town. He was a traveller in jewellery, but as I did not like
+his being away from me, I induced him to rent 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch, to which we removed. Then he left me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"On account of Lady Rachel Sandal's murder?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill controlled herself excellently, although she was startled by
+this speech, as was evident from the expression of her eyes. "That poor
+lady committed suicide," she said deliberately. "The jury at the inquest
+brought in a verdict of suicide&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"By a majority of one," added Hurd, quickly. "There seemed to be a
+considerable amount of doubt as to the cause of the death."</p>
+
+<p>"The death was caused by strangulation," said Mrs. Krill, in hard tones.
+"Since you know all about the matter, you must be aware that I and my
+daughter had retired after seeing Lady Rachel safe and sound for the
+night. The death was discovered by a boon companion of my husband's,
+with whom he was drinking at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that. Also that you came down with
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>
+your daughter when the alarm was given. I also know that Krill fastened
+your daughter's lips together with the opal brooch which was found in
+the parlor."</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you that?" asked Mrs. Krill, agitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Jessop&mdash;the boon companion you speak of."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, suppressing her agitation with a powerful effort.
+"Matilda said you had him to dine with you. What else did he say?" she
+asked with some hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Much less than I should have liked to know," retorted Hurd, prepared to
+throw off the mask; "but he told me a great deal which interested me
+very much. Amongst other things that Grexon Hay had been engaged to your
+daughter for two years."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked Mrs. Krill, coolly, "what of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing particular," rejoined Hurd, just as coolly, "only I wonder you
+took the trouble to pretend that you met Hay at Pash's office for the
+first time."</p>
+
+<p>"That was some romantic rubbish of my daughter's. There was no reason
+why we should not have acknowledged Mr. Hay as an old acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"None in the world that I can see," said Hurd, smoothly. "He told you
+that Aaron Norman was your husband."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mrs. Krill, decidedly, "I first heard of my husband by seeing
+a chance hand-bill&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," answered Hurd, just as decidedly, "Hay has confessed."</p>
+
+<p>"There was nothing to confess," cried Mrs. Krill, loudly and with
+emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think so," said the detective, noting that she was losing her
+temper. "You didn't want it known that you were aware of Norman's
+identity before his death. Do you deny that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I deny everything," gasped Mrs. Krill, her hands trembling.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>
+
+<p>"That's a pity, as I want you to corroborate certain facts connected
+with Anne Tyler. Do you know the name?"</p>
+
+<p>"My maiden name," said the widow, and a look of fear crept into her
+hard, staring eyes. "How did you come to know of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"From the marriage certificate supplied by Pash."</p>
+
+<p>"He had no right to give it to you."</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't. I possess only a copy. But that copy I sent down in charge
+of a certain person to Beechill. This person found that you were married
+as Anne Tyler to Lemuel Krill in the parish church, twenty miles from
+your birthplace."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill drew a long breath of relief. "Well?" she demanded defiantly,
+"is there anything wrong about that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. But this person also made inquiries at Stowley about you. You are
+the daughter of a farmer."</p>
+
+<p>"I mentioned that fact myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But you didn't mention that your mother had been hanged for
+poisoning your father."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill turned ghastly pale. "No," she said in a suffocating voice,
+"such is the case; but can you wonder that I forebore to mention that
+fact? My daughter knows nothing of that&mdash;nor did my husband&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Which husband do you mean, Krill or Jessop?" asked Hurd.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill gasped and rose, swaying. "What do you mean, man?"</p>
+
+<p>"This," said the detective, on his feet at once; "this person hunted out
+the early life of Anne Tyler at Stowley. It was discovered that Anne was
+the daughter of a woman who had been hanged, and of a man who had been
+murdered. Also this person found that Anne Tyler married a sailor called
+Jarvey Jessop some years before she
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>
+committed bigamy with Lemuel Krill in Beechill Church&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lie!" screamed Mrs. Krill, losing her self-control. "How dare
+you come here with these falsehoods?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are not falsehoods, Anne Tyler, <i>alias</i> Anne Jessop, <i>alias</i> Anne
+Krill, etc.," retorted Hurd, speaking rapidly and emphasizing his
+remarks with his finger in his usual fashion when in deadly earnest.
+"You were married to Jessop in Stowley Church; you bore him a daughter
+who was christened Maud Jessop in Stowley Church. The person I mentioned
+sent me copies of the marriage and birth certificates. So your marriage
+with Lemuel Krill was false, and his second marriage with Lillian Garner
+is a good one in law. Which means, Mrs. Jessop," Hurd hurled the word at
+her and she shrank, "that Sylvia Norman or Sylvia Krill, as she
+rightfully is, owns that money which you wrongfully withhold from her.
+The will gave the five thousand a year to 'my daughter,' and Sylvia is
+the only daughter and only child&mdash;the legitimate child, mark you&mdash;of
+Lemuel Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"Lies&mdash;lies&mdash;lies!" raged Mrs. Krill, as she may still be called, though
+rightfully Jessop, "I'll defend the case on my daughter's behalf."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Your</i> daughter, certainly," said Hurd, "but not Krill's."</p>
+
+<p>"I say yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And I say no. She was fifteen when Lady Rachel was murdered, as Jessop,
+her father, admitted. I knew the man was keeping something back, but I
+was far from suspecting that it was this early marriage. No wonder the
+man came to you and had free quarters at 'The Red Pig.' He could have
+prosecuted you for bigamy, just as you would have prosecuted Krill, had
+you not murdered him."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill gave a yell and her eyes blazed. "You hound!" she shouted,
+"do you accuse me of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do more than accuse you, I arrest you." Hurd produced the warrant. "A
+man is waiting in the cab. We'll get a four-wheeler, and you'll come
+along with me to gaol, Mrs. Jessop."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't prove it&mdash;you can't prove it," she panted, "and I sha'n't
+go&mdash;I sha'n't&mdash;I sha'n't!" and her eyes sought the tapestry.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Jessop can come out," said Hurd, coolly, "and, as to your not
+coming, a few policemen will soon put that right."</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you insult me and my daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come," said the detective, sternly, "I've had quite enough of
+this. You offered me one thousand pounds to learn who killed your
+so-called husband, Krill. I have earned the reward&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not one shilling shall you have."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think so. Miss Sylvia will pay it to me, and you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am innocent. I never touched the man."</p>
+
+<p>"A jury will decide that, Mrs. Jessop."</p>
+
+<p>"Krill&mdash;my name is Krill."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd laughed and turned towards the tapestry.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say, Miss Jessop?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing that further concealment was at an end, Maud lifted the tapestry,
+which concealed a small door, through which she had silently stolen to
+listen. She advanced calmly. "I have heard all your conversation with my
+mother," she declared with flashing eyes, "and not one word of it is
+true. I am the daughter of Lemuel Krill."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll find that hard to prove in the face of your birth certificate
+and your mother's marriage to Captain Jessop, your father."</p>
+
+<p>"It will all be put right."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so, and Miss Norman will get the money."</p>
+
+<p>"That girl&mdash;never!" cried Maud, fiercely. She
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>
+looked very like her mother at the moment, but the more angry she grew
+the calmer became Mrs. Krill, who kept darting anxious glances at her
+daughter. "And you sha'n't take my mother away," she cried
+threateningly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to make a scandal in the neighborhood," said Hurd, taking
+a small whistle from his pocket, "but if I blow this my man out there
+will call the nearest policeman, and then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no need," interrupted Mrs. Krill, who had recovered her
+self-control. "Maud, come over beside me. On what grounds, Mr. Hurd, do
+you accuse me of the crime? I was not in town on&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you were, Mrs. Jessop. Pash can prove that you were in his
+office and took the brooch left by Tray from the table. I don't know
+where you stopped on that night&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"At Judson's Hotel, Strand," cried Maud, placing herself beside her
+mother, "and anyone there can prove that my mother and myself were
+within doors after we came from Terry's Theatre, where we spent the
+evening. As my father&mdash;for Krill <i>was</i> my father&mdash;was killed after
+twelve, and we were both in bed in one room before then, your accusation
+falls to the ground. My mother was with me, and she did not leave the
+whole evening. Next day we went to Christchurch."</p>
+
+<p>Hurd was rather staggered by the positive way in which the young woman
+spoke. But the facts were too plain for him to hesitate. "I must trouble
+you to come along with me," he said. "No, don't go!"</p>
+
+<p>"To put on my cloak and hat?" urged Mrs. Krill. "I'll come quietly
+enough. I don't want a scandal. I am sure when the magistrate hears what
+I have to say he will let me go free."</p>
+
+<p>"I trust so. But you must not leave the room. Matilda will, no doubt,
+bring your things."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>
+
+<p>Mrs. Krill touched the electric button of the bell, while Maud walked up
+and down, deathly white and fuming. "Mr. Hay shall see to this," she
+said in a cold rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hay will have quite enough to do to look after himself," said the
+detective, coolly; "you had better let your mother go quietly, and I
+won't say anything to Matilda Junk."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, do, Maud," urged the mother, placing an imploring hand on her tall
+daughter's shoulder; "it's better so. Everything will be put right when
+the magistrate hears my story."</p>
+
+<p>"What will you tell him, mother?" asked Maud.</p>
+
+<p>"That I am innocent, and that I am, as you are, ignorant of who killed
+your unfortunate father."</p>
+
+<p>Matilda entered the room and heard that Mrs. Krill had to go out on
+business with Mr. Hurd. On receiving her orders she departed, and
+presently returned with the cloak and hat. Mrs. Krill, who was now quite
+cool, put these on. Hurd could not but admire the brave way in which she
+faced the terrible situation. Maud seemed to be far more upset, and Hurd
+wondered if the young woman knew the truth. Mrs. Krill kept soothing
+her. "It will be all right, my love. Don't excite yourself. It will be
+all right," she said several times.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Junk departed, and Mrs. Krill said that she was ready to depart.
+Hurd offered her his arm, which she rejected, and walked to the door
+with a firm step, although her face was rather white. At the door she
+caught her daughter round the neck and kissed her several times, after
+which she whispered earnestly in her ear, and then went down the stairs
+with the detective in attendance. Maud, with white lips and cheeks, but
+with dry eyes, followed. When her mother was safely in the cab, the
+plain-clothes policeman alighted, so that Hurd might take his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>
+place. Maud came quietly down the steps and seized the detective by the
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>"You have ruined my mother," she said in a cold, hard tone; "you have
+robbed me of my money and of the chance of marrying the man I love. I
+can't hurt you; but that girl, Sylvia&mdash;she shall never get one
+penny&mdash;so, remember!"</p>
+
+<p>Hurd shook her off, and, stepping into the cab, drove away. Mrs. Krill
+looked apprehensively at him. "What did Maud say?" she asked. Hurd told
+her, and Mrs. Krill closed her lips firmly. "Maud is quite right," she
+said with a strange smile. "Sylvia will never get the money."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">A CRUEL WOMAN</p>
+
+
+<p>"Jus' say your meanin', my pretty queen," said Mrs. Tawsey, as she stood
+at the sitting-room door, and watched Sylvia reading an ill-written
+letter. "It's twelve now, and I kin be back by five, arter a long, and
+enjiable tork with Matilder."</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly must go," replied Sylvia, handing back the letter. "I am
+sure your sister will be glad to see you, Debby."</p>
+
+<p>Deborah sniffed and scratched her elbow. "Relatives ain't friends in our
+family," she said, shaking her head, "whatever you may say, my
+deary-sweet. Father knocked mother int' lunatics arter she'd nagged 'im
+to drunk an' police-cells. Three brothers I 'ad, and all of 'em that
+'andy with their fistises as they couldn't a-bear to live in 'armony
+without black eyes and swolled bumps all over them. As to Matilder, she
+an' me never did, what you might call, hit it orf, by reason of 'er not
+givin' way to me, as she should ha' done, me bein' the youngest and what
+you might call the baby of the lot. We ain't seen each other fur years,
+and the meetin' will be cold. She'll not have much forgiveness fur me
+bein' a bride, when she's but a lone cross-patch, drat her."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't quarrel with her, Debby. She has written you a very nice letter,
+asking you to go down to Mrs. Krill's house in Kensington, and she
+really wants to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
+see you before she goes back to Christchurch to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll go," said Deborah, suddenly; "but I don't like leavin' you
+all by your own very self, my sunflower."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be all right, Debby. Paul comes at four o'clock, and you'll be
+back at five."</p>
+
+<p>"Sooner, if me an' Matilder don't hit if orf, or if we hit each other,
+which, knowin' 'er 'abits, I do expects. But Bart's out till six, and
+there won't be anyone to look arter them as washes&mdash;four of 'em," added
+Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose, "and as idle as porkpines."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Purr can look after them."</p>
+
+<p>"Look arter gin more like," said Deborah, contemptuously. "She's allays
+suckin', sly-like, tryin' to purtend as it's water, as if the smell
+didn't give it away, whatever the color may be. An' here she is, idling
+as usual. An' may I arsk, Mrs. Purr ma'am," demanded Deborah with great
+politeness, "wot I pays you fur in the way of ironin'?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Purr was too excited to reply. She brushed past her indignant
+mistress and faced Sylvia, waving a dirty piece of paper. "Lor', miss,"
+she almost screamed, "you do say as you want t'know where that limb Tray
+'ave got to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes," said Sylvia, rising, "he escaped from Mr. Hurd, and we want
+to find him very much."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a letter from 'im," said Mrs. Purr, thrusting the paper into
+Sylvia's hand; "tho' 'ow he writes, not 'avin' bin to a board school, I
+dunno. He's in a ken at Lambith, and ill at that. Want's me t'go an' see
+'im. But I can't leave the ironin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Yuss y' can," said Deborah, suddenly; "this erringd is ness'ary, Mrs.
+Purr ma'am, so jes' put on your bunnet, an' go to Mr. Hurd as 'as 'is
+orfice at Scotlan' Yard, and take 'im with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but I couldn't&mdash;"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>
+
+<p>"You go," advised Mrs. Tawsey. "There's five pounds offered for the
+brat's bein' found."</p>
+
+<p>"Five pun!" gasped Mrs. Purr, trembling. "Lor', and me 'avin' a chanct
+of gittin' it. I'll go&mdash;I'll go. I knows the Yard, 'avin' 'ad summat to
+do with them dirty perlice in my time. Miss Sylvia&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, go, Mrs. Purr, and see Mr. Hurd. He'll give you the five pounds if
+you take him to Tray." Sylvia handed back the paper. "Tray seems to be
+ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Ill or well, he sha'n't lose me five pun, if I 'ave to drag 'im to the
+lock-up m'self," said Mrs. Purr, resolutely. "Where's my bunnet&mdash;my
+shawl&mdash;oh lor'&mdash;five pun! Them is as good allays gits rewards," and she
+hurried out, hardly able to walk for excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a nice ole party fur you, Miss Sylvia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Debby," said the girl, thoughtfully. "You take her to the Yard to see
+Mr. Hurd, and then go to Kensington to speak with your sister."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll go, as importance it is," said Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose
+harder than ever. "But I 'opes you won't be lone, my poppet-dovey."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said Sylvia, kissing her, and pushing her towards the door.
+"I'll look after those four women in the wash-house, and read this new
+book I have. Then I must get tea ready for Paul, who comes at four. The
+afternoon will pass quite quickly."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be back at five if I can, and earlier if Matilder ain't what she
+oughter be," said Mrs. Tawsey, yielding. "So make yourself 'appy, honey,
+till you sees me smilin' again."</p>
+
+<p>In another quarter of an hour Mrs. Tawsey, dressed in her bridal gown
+and bonnet so as to crush Matilda with the sight of her splendor, walked
+down the garden path attended by Mrs. Purr in a snuffy black shawl, and
+a kind of cobweb on her head which she called a "bunnet." As Deborah was
+tall and in white
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>
+and Mrs. Purr small and in black, they looked a strange pair. Sylvia
+waved her hand out of the window to Debby, as that faithful creature
+turned her head for a final look at the young mistress she idolized. The
+large, rough woman was dog-like in her fidelity.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia, left alone, proceeded to arrange matters. She went to the
+wash-house, which was detached from the cottage, and saw that the four
+women, who worked under Deborah, were busy. She found them all
+chattering and washing in a cheerful way, so, after a word or two of
+commendation, she returned to the sitting-room. Here she played a game
+of patience, arranged the tea-things although it was yet early, and
+finally settled down to one of Mrs. Henry Wood's interesting novels. She
+was quite alone and enjoyed the solitude. The wash-house was so far
+away, at the end of the yard, that the loud voices of the workers could
+not be heard. The road before Rose Cottage was not a popular
+thoroughfare, and it was rarely that anyone passed. Out of the window
+Sylvia could see a line of raw, red-brick villas, and sometimes a spurt
+of steam, denoting the presence of the railway station. Also, she saw
+the green fields and the sere hedges with the red berries, giving
+promise of a hard winter. The day was sunny but cold, and there was a
+feeling of autumnal dampness in the air. Deborah had lighted a fire
+before she went, that her mistress might be comfortable, so Sylvia sat
+down before this and read for an hour, frequently stopping to think of
+Paul, and wonder if he would come at the appointed hour of four or
+earlier. What with the warmth, and the reading, and the dreaming, she
+fell into a kind of doze, from which she was awakened by a sharp and
+peremptory knock. Wondering if her lover had unexpectedly arrived,
+though she did not think he would rap in so
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>
+decided a manner, Sylvia rubbed the sleep out of her pretty eyes and
+hurried to the door. On the step she came face to face with Miss Maud
+Krill.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know me, Miss Norman?" asked Maud, who was smiling and suave,
+though rather white in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You came with your mother to Gwynne Street," replied Sylvia,
+wondering why she had been honored with a visit.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. May I have a few minutes' conversation with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly." Sylvia saw no reason to deny this request, although she did
+not like Miss Krill. But it struck her that something might be learned
+from that young woman relative to the murder, and thought she would have
+something to tell Paul about when he arrived. "Will you walk in,
+please," and she threw open the sitting-room door.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you quite alone?" asked Maud, entering, and seating herself in the
+chair near the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," answered Sylvia, stiffly, and wondering why the question was
+asked; "that is, the four washerwomen are in the place at the back. But
+Mrs. Tawsey went to your house to see her sister."</p>
+
+<p>"She arrived before I left," said Maud, coolly. "I saw them quarrelling
+in a most friendly way. Where is Mr. Beecot?"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect him later."</p>
+
+<p>"And Bart Tawsey who married your nurse?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is absent on his rounds. May I ask why you question me in this way,
+Miss Krill?" asked Sylvia, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have much to say to you which no one else must hear," was the
+calm reply. "Dear me, how hot this fire is!" and she moved her chair so
+that it blocked Sylvia's way to the door. Also, Miss Krill cast a glance
+at the window. It was not snibbed, and she made a movement as if to go
+to it; but,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>
+restraining herself, she turned her calm, cold face to the girl. "I have
+much to say to you," she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," replied Sylvia, politely, "I don't think you have treated me
+so well that you should trouble to converse with me. Will you please to
+be brief. Mr. Beecot is coming at four, and he will not be at all
+pleased to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Maud glanced at the clock. "We have an hour," she said coldly; "it is
+just a few minutes after three. My business will not take long," she
+added, with an unpleasant smile.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your business?" asked Sylvia, uneasily, for she did not like
+the smile.</p>
+
+<p>"If you will sit down, I'll tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Norman took a chair near the wall, and as far from her visitor as
+was possible in so small a room. Maud took from her neck a black silk
+handkerchief which she wore, evidently as a protection against the cold,
+and folding it lengthways, laid it across her lap. Then she looked at
+Sylvia, in a cold, critical way. "You are very pretty, my dear," she
+said insolently.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you come to tell me that?" asked the girl, firing up at the tone.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I came to tell you that my mother was arrested last night for the
+murder of <i>our</i> father."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Sylvia gasped and lay back on her chair, "she killed him, that
+cruel woman."</p>
+
+<p>"She did not," cried Maud, passionately, "my mother is perfectly
+innocent. That blackguard Hurd arrested her wrongfully. I overheard all
+the conversation he had with her, and know that he told a pack of lies.
+My mother did <i>not</i> kill our father."</p>
+
+<p>"My father, not yours," said Sylvia, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you. Lemuel Krill was my father."</p>
+
+<p>"No," insisted Sylvia. "I don't know who your father was. But from your
+age, I know that you are not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Leave my age alone," cried the other sharply, and with an uneasy
+movement of her hands; "we won't discuss that, or the question of my
+father. We have more interesting things to talk about."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't talk to you at all," said Sylvia, rising.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down and listen. You <i>shall</i> hear me. I am not going to let my
+mother suffer for a deed she never committed, nor am I going to let you
+have the money."</p>
+
+<p>"It is mine."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not, and you shall not get it."</p>
+
+<p>"Paul&mdash;Mr. Beecot will assert my rights."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he indeed," said the other, with a glance at the clock; "we'll see
+about that. There's no time to be lost. I have much to say&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing that can interest me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. I think you will find our conversation very interesting. I am
+going to be open with you, for what I tell you will never be told by you
+to any living soul."</p>
+
+<p>"If I see fit it shall," cried Sylvia in a rage; "how dare you dictate
+to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Because I am driven into a corner. I wish to save my mother&mdash;how it is
+to be done I don't know. And I wish to stop you getting the five
+thousand a year. I know how <i>that</i> is to be done," ended Miss Krill,
+with a cruel smile and a flash of her white, hungry-looking teeth; "you
+rat of a girl&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Leave the room."</p>
+
+<p>"When I please, not before. You listen to me. I'm going to tell you
+about the murder&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Sylvia, turning pale, "what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," said the other, with a taunting laugh, "you'll be white enough
+before I've done with you. Do you see this," and she laid her finger on
+her lips; "do you see this scar? Krill did that." Sylvia noticed that
+she did not speak of Krill as her father
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>
+this time; "he pinned my lips together when I was a child with that opal
+serpent."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," replied Sylvia, shuddering, "it was cruel. I heard about it
+from the detective and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't wish for your sympathy. I was a girl of fifteen when that was
+done, and I will carry the scar to my grave. Child as I was then, I
+vowed revenge&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"On your father," said Sylvia, contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>"Krill is not my father," said Maud, changing front all at once; "he is
+yours, but not mine. My father is Captain Jessop. I have known this for
+years. Captain Jessop told me I was his daughter. My mother thought that
+my father was drowned at sea, and so married Krill, who was a traveller
+in jewellery. He and my mother rented 'The Red Pig' at Christchurch, and
+for years they led an unhappy life."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," gasped Sylvia, "you confess. I'll tell Paul."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll tell no one," retorted the other woman sharply. "Do you think I
+would speak so openly in order that you might tell all the world with
+your gabbling tongue? Yes, and I'll speak more openly still before I
+leave. Lady Rachel Sandal did not commit suicide as my mother said. She
+was strangled, and by me."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia clapped her hands to her face with a scream. "By you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She had a beautiful brooch. I wanted it. I was put to bed by my
+mother, and kept thinking of the brooch. My mother was down the stairs
+attending to your drunken father. I stole to Lady Rachel's room and
+found her asleep. I tried to take the brooch from her breast. She woke
+and caught at my hand. But I tore away the brooch and before Lady Rachel
+could scream, I twisted the silk handkerchief she wore, which was
+already round her throat, tighter. I am strong&mdash;I was always strong,
+even as a girl of fifteen. She was weak from exhaustion,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>
+so she soon died. My mother came into the room and saw what I had done.
+She was terrified, and made me go back to bed. Then she tied Lady Rachel
+by the silk handkerchief to the bedpost, so that it might be thought she
+had committed suicide. My mother then came back to me and took the
+brooch, telling me I might be hanged, if it was found on me. I was
+afraid, being only a girl, and gave up the brooch. Then Captain Jessop
+raised the alarm. I and my mother went downstairs, and my mother dropped
+the brooch on the floor, so that it might be supposed Lady Rachel had
+lost it there. Captain Jessop ran out. I wanted to give the alarm, and
+tell the neighbors that Krill had done it&mdash;for I knew then he was
+not my father, and I saw, moreover, how unhappy he made my mother. He
+caught me," said Maud, with a fierce look, "and bound a handkerchief
+across my mouth. I got free and screamed. Then he bound me hand and
+foot, and pinned my lips together with the brooch which he picked off
+the floor. My mother fought for me, but he knocked her down. Then he
+fled, and after a long time Jessop came in. He removed the brooch from
+my mouth and unbound me. I was put to bed, and Jessop revived my mother.
+Then came the inquest, and it was thought that Lady Rachel had committed
+suicide. But she did not," cried Maud, exultingly, and with a cruel
+light in her eyes, "I killed her&mdash;I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," moaned Sylvia, backing against the wall with widely open eyes;
+"don't tell me more&mdash;what horrors!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah, you kitten," sneered Maud, contemptuously, "I have not half done
+yet. You have yet to hear how I killed Krill."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia shrieked, and sank back in her chair, staring with horrified eyes
+at the cruel face before her.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Yes," cried Maud, exultingly, "I killed him. My mother suspected me,
+but she never knew for certain. Listen. When Hay told me that Krill was
+hiding as Norman in Gwynne Street I determined to punish him for his
+cruelty to me. I did not say this, but I made Hay promise to get me the
+brooch from Beecot&mdash;on no other condition would I marry him. I wanted
+the brooch to pin Krill's lips together as he had pinned mine, when I
+was a helpless child. But your fool of a lover would not part with the
+brooch. Tray, the boy, took it from Beecot's pocket when he met with
+that accident&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know Tray?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I met him at Pash's office several times when I was up. He ran
+errands for Pash before he became regularly employed. I saw that Tray
+was a devil, of whom I could make use. Oh, I know Tray, and I know also
+Hokar the Indian, who placed the sugar on the counter. He went to the
+shop to kill your father at my request. I wanted revenge and the money.
+Hokar was saved from starvation by my good mother. He came of the race
+of Thugs, if you know anything about them&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," moaned Sylvia, covering her face again.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you do. So much the better. It will save my explaining, as there is
+not much time left before your fool arrives. Hokar saw that I loved to
+hurt living creatures, and he taught me how to strangle cats and dogs
+and things. No one knew but Hokar that I killed them, and it was thought
+he ate them. But he didn't. I strangled them because I loved to see them
+suffer, and because I wished to learn how to strangle in the way the
+Thugs did."</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia was sick with fear and disgust. "For God's sake, don't tell me
+any more," she said imploringly.</p>
+
+<p>But she might as well have spoken to a granite rock. "You shall hear
+everything," said Maud, relentlessly.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>
+"I asked Hokar to strangle Krill. He went to the shop, but, when he saw
+that Krill had only one eye, he could not offer him to the goddess
+Bhowanee. He came to me at Judson's hotel, after he left the sugar on
+the counter, and told me the goddess would not accept the offering of a
+maimed man. I did not know what to do. I went with my mother to Pash's
+office, when she was arranging to prosecute Krill for bigamy. I met Tray
+there. He told me he had given the brooch to Pash, and that it was in
+the inner office. My mother was talking to Pash within and I chatted to
+Tray outside. I told Tray I wanted to kill Krill, and that if he would
+help me, I would give him a lot of money. He agreed, for he was a boy
+such as I was when a girl, fond of seeing things suffer. You can't
+wonder at it in me," went on Miss Krill, coolly; "my grandmother was
+hanged for poisoning my grandfather, and I expect I inherit the love of
+murder from her&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't listen," cried Sylvia, shuddering.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you will. I'll soon be done," went on her persecutor, cruelly.
+"Well, then, when I found Tray was like myself I determined to get the
+brooch and hurt Krill&mdash;hurt him as he hurt me," she cried vehemently.
+"Tray told me of the cellar and of the side passage. When my mother and
+Pash came out of the inner office and went to the door, I ran in and
+took the brooch. It was hidden under some papers and had escaped my
+mother's eye. But I searched till I got it. Then I made an appointment
+with Tray for eleven o'clock at the corner of Gwynne Street. I went back
+to Judson's hotel, and my mother and I went to the theatre. We had
+supper and retired to bed. That is, my mother did. We had left the
+theatre early, as my mother had a headache, and I had plenty of time.
+Mother fell asleep almost immediately. I went downstairs veiled, and in
+dark clothes. I slipped past the night porter and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>
+met Tray. We went by the side passage to the cellar. Thinking we were
+customers Krill let us in. Tray locked the door, and I threw myself on
+Krill. He had not been drinking much or I might not have mastered him.
+As it was, he was too terrified when he recognized me to struggle. In
+fact he fainted. With Tray's assistance I bound his hands behind his
+back, and then we enjoyed ourselves," she rubbed her hands together,
+looking more like a fiend than a woman.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia rose and staggered to the door. "No more&mdash;no more."</p>
+
+<p>Maud pushed her back into her chair. "Stop where you are, you whimpering
+fool!" she snarled exultingly, "I have you safe." Then she continued
+quickly and with another glance at the clock, the long hand of which now
+pointed to a quarter to four, "with Tray's assistance I carried Krill up
+to the shop. Tray found an auger and bored a hole in the floor. Then I
+picked up a coil of copper wire, which was being used in packing things
+for Krill to make his escape. I took it up. We laid Krill's neck over
+the hole, and passed the wire round his neck and through the hole. Tray
+went down and tied a cross stick on the end of the wire, so that he
+could put his weight on it when we strangled&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;great heaven," moaned Sylvia, stopping her ears.</p>
+
+<p>Maud bent over her and pulled her hands away. "You <i>shall</i> hear you
+little beast," she snarled. "All the time Krill was sensible. He
+recovered his senses after he was bound. I prolonged his agony as much
+as possible. When Tray went down to see after the wire, I knelt beside
+Krill and told him that I knew I was not his daughter, that I intended
+to strangle him as I had strangled Lady Rachel. He shrieked with horror.
+That was the cry you heard, you cat, and which brought you downstairs. I
+never expected
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>
+that," cried Maud, clapping her hands; "that was a treat for Krill I
+never intended. I stopped his crying any more for assistance by pinning
+his mouth together, as he had done mine over twenty years before. Then I
+sat beside him and taunted him. I heard the policeman pass, and the
+church clock strike the quarter. Then I heard footsteps, and guessed you
+were coming. It occurred to me to give you a treat by strangling the man
+before your eyes, and punish him more severely, since the brooch stopped
+him calling out&mdash;as it stopped me&mdash;me," she cried, striking
+her breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how could you&mdash;how could&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You feeble thing," said Maud, contemptuously, and patting the girl's
+cheek, "you would not have done it I know. But I loved it&mdash;I loved it!
+That was living indeed. I went down to the cellar and fastened the door
+behind me. Tray was already pressing on the cross stick at the end of
+the wire, and laughed as he pressed. But I stopped him. I heard you and
+that woman enter the shop, and heard what you said. I prolonged Krill's
+agony, and then I pressed the wire down myself for such a time as I
+thought it would take to squeeze the life out of the beast. Then with
+Tray I locked the cellar door and left by the side passage. We dodged
+all the police and got into the Strand. I did not return to the hotel,
+but walked about with Tray all the night talking with&mdash;joy," cried Maud,
+clapping her hands, "with joy, do you hear. When it was eight I went to
+Judson's. The porter thought I had been out for an early walk. My
+mother&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here Maud broke off, for Sylvia, who was staring over her shoulder out
+of the window saw a form she knew well at the gate. "Paul&mdash;Paul," she
+shrieked, "come&mdash;come!"</p>
+
+<p>Maud whipped the black silk handkerchief round the girl's neck. "You
+shall never get that money,"
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>
+she whispered cruelly, "you shall never tell anyone what I have told
+you. Now I'll show you how Hokar taught me," she jerked the handkerchief
+tight. But Sylvia got her hand under the cruel bandage and shrieked
+aloud in despair. At once she heard an answering shriek. It was the
+voice of Deborah.</p>
+
+<p>Maud darted to the door and locked it. Then she returned and, flinging
+Sylvia down, tried again to tighten the handkerchief, her face white and
+fierce and her eyes glittering like a demon's.</p>
+
+<p>"Help&mdash;help!" cried Sylvia, and her voice grew weaker. But she struggled
+and kept her hands between the handkerchief and her throat. Maud tried
+to drag them away fiercely. Deborah was battering frantically at the
+door. Paul ran round to the window. It was not locked, and Maud,
+struggling with Sylvia had no time to close it. With a cry of alarm Paul
+threw up the window and jumped into the room. At the same moment
+Deborah, putting her sturdy shoulder to the frail door, burst it open.
+Beecot flung himself on the woman and dragged her back. But she clung
+like a leech to Sylvia with the black handkerchief in her grip. Deborah,
+silent and fierce, grabbed at the handkerchief, and tore it from Maud's
+grasp. Sylvia, half-strangled, fell back in a faint, white as a corpse,
+while Paul struggled with the savage and baffled woman.</p>
+
+<p>"You've killed her," shouted Deborah, and laid her strong hands on Maud,
+"you devil!" She shook her fiercely. "I'll kill you," and she shook her
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Paul threw himself on his knees beside the insensible form of Sylvia and
+left Deborah to deal with Maud. That creature was gasping as Mrs. Tawsey
+swung her to and fro. Then she began to fight, and the two women crashed
+round the little room, upsetting the furniture. Paul took Sylvia in his
+arms, and shrank against the wall to protect her.</p>
+
+<p>A new person suddenly appeared. No less a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>
+woman than Matilda. When she saw Maud in Deborah's grip she flew at her
+sister like a tigress and dragged her off. Maud was free for a moment.
+Seeing her chance she scrambled out of the window, and ran through the
+garden down the road towards the station. Perhaps she had a vague idea
+of escape. Deborah, exerting her great strength, threw Matilda aside,
+and without a cry ran out of the house and after the assassin who had
+tried to strangle Sylvia. Matilda, true to her salt, ran also, to help
+Maud Krill, and the two women sped in the wake of the insane creature
+who was swiftly running in the direction of the station. People began to
+look round, a crowd gathered like magic, and in a few moments Maud was
+being chased by quite a mob of people. She ran like a hare. Heaven only
+knows if she hoped to escape after her failure to kill Sylvia, but she
+ran on blindly. Into the new street of Jubileetown she sped with the
+roaring mob at her heels. She darted down a side thoroughfare, but
+Deborah gained on her silently and with a savage look in her eyes.
+Several policemen joined in the chase, though no one knew what the
+flying woman had done. Maud turned suddenly up the slope that led to the
+station. She gained the door, darted through it, upset the man at the
+barrier and with clenched fists stood at bay, her back to the rails.
+Deborah darted forward&mdash;Maud gave a wild scream and sprang aside:
+then she reeled and fell over the platform. The next moment a train came
+slowing into the station, and immediately the wretched woman was under
+the cruel wheels. When she was picked up she was dead and almost cut to
+pieces. Lady Rachel and Lemuel Krill were revenged.</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<p class="chhead">A FINAL EXPLANATION</p>
+
+
+<p>Sylvia was ill for a long time after that terrible hour. Although Maud
+had not succeeded in strangling her, yet the black silk handkerchief
+left marks on her neck. Then the struggle, the shock and the remembrance
+of the horrors related by the miserable woman, threw her into a nervous
+fever, and it was many weeks before she recovered sufficiently to enjoy
+life. Deborah never forgave herself for having left Sylvia alone, and
+nursed her with a fierce tenderness which was the result of remorse.</p>
+
+<p>"If that wretch 'ad killed my pretty," she said to Paul, "I'd ha' killed
+her, if I wos hanged fur it five times over."</p>
+
+<p>"God has punished the woman," said Paul, solemnly. "And a terrible death
+she met with, being mutilated by the wheels of the train."</p>
+
+<p>"Serve 'er right," rejoined Deborah, heartlessly. "What kin you expect
+fur good folk if wicked ones, as go strangulating people, don't git the
+Lord down on 'em. Oh, Mr. Beecot," Deborah broke down into noisy tears,
+"the 'orrors that my lovely one 'ave tole me. I tried to stop her, but
+she would tork, and was what you might call delirous-like. Sich murders
+and gory assassins as wos never 'eard of."</p>
+
+<p>"I gathered something of this from what Sylvia let drop when we came
+back from the station," said Beecot, anxiously. "Tell me exactly what
+she said, Deborah."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Why that thing as is dead, an' may she rest in a peace, she don't
+deserve, tole 'ow she murdered Lady Rachel Sandal an' my ole master."</p>
+
+<p>"Deborah," cried Beecot, amazed. "You must be mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I ain't, sir. That thing guv my lily-queen the 'orrors. Jes you
+'ear, Mr. Beecot, and creeps will go up your back. Lor' 'ave mercy on us
+as don't know the wickedness of the world."</p>
+
+<p>"I think we have learned something of it lately, Mrs. Tawsey," was
+Paul's grim reply. "But tell me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wot my pore angel sunbeam said? I will, and if it gives you nightmares
+don't blame me," and Mrs. Tawsey, in her own vigorous, ungrammatical
+way, related what she had heard from Sylvia. Paul was struck with horror
+and wanted to see Sylvia. But this Deborah would not allow. "She's
+sleepin' like a pretty daisy," said Mrs. Tawsey, "so don't you go
+a-disturbin' of her nohow, though acrost my corp you may make a try, say
+what you like."</p>
+
+<p>But Paul thought better of it, thinking Sylvia had best be left in the
+rough, kindly hands of her old nurse. He went off to find Hurd, and
+related all that had taken place. The detective was equally horrified
+along with Beecot when he heard of Sylvia's danger, and set to work to
+prove the truth of what Maud had told the girl. He succeeded so well
+that within a comparatively short space of time, the whole matter was
+made clear. Mrs. Jessop, <i>alias</i> Mrs. Krill, was examined, Tray was
+found and questioned, Matilda was made to speak out, and both Jessop and
+Hokar had to make clean breasts of it. The evidence thus procured proved
+the truth of the terrible confession made by Maud Jessop to the girl she
+thought to strangle. Hurd was amazed at the revelation.</p>
+
+<p>"Never call me a detective again," he said to Paul.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>
+"For I am an ass. I thought Jessop might be guilty, or that Hokar might
+have done it. I could have taken my Bible oath that Mrs. Krill strangled
+the man; but I never for one moment suspected that smiling young woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Paul shrugged his shoulders, "she was mad."</p>
+
+<p>"She must have been," ruminated the detective, "else she wouldn't have
+given herself away so completely. Whatever made her tell Miss Norman
+what she had done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because she never thought that Sylvia would live to tell anyone else.
+That was why she spoke, and thought to torture Sylvia&mdash;as she did&mdash;in
+the same way as she tortured that wretched man Lemuel. If I hadn't come
+earlier to Rose Cottage than usual, and if Deborah had not met me
+unexpectedly at the station, Sylvia would certainly have been killed.
+And then Maud might have escaped. She laid her plans well. It was she
+who induced Matilda to get her sister to come to Kensington for a chat."</p>
+
+<p>"But Matilda didn't know what Maud was up to?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Matilda never guessed that Maud was guilty of two murders or
+designed to strangle Sylvia. But Maud made use of her to get Deborah out
+of the house, and it was Maud who made Tray send the letter asking Mrs.
+Purr to come to him, so that she also might be out of the way. In fact
+Maud arranged so that everyone should be away and Sylvia alone. If she
+hadn't wasted time in telling her fearful story, she might have killed
+my poor love. Sylvia was quite exhausted with the struggle."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Hurd. "I went with the old woman to the address given in
+that letter which Tray got written for him. He wasn't there, however, so
+I might have guessed it was a do."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have caught him?"</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Yes, in Hunter Street. He was loafing about there at night waiting for
+Maud, and quite ignorant of her death. I made him tell me everything of
+his connection with the matter. He's as bad a lot as that girl, but she
+had some excuse, seeing her grandmother was a murderess; Tray is nothing
+but a wicked little imp."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he be hanged?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I think not. His youth will be in his favor, though I'd hang him
+myself had I the chance, and so put him beyond the reach of hurting
+anyone. But I expect he'll get a long sentence."</p>
+
+<p>"And Mrs. Krill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Jessop you mean. Hum! I don't know. She apparently was ignorant
+that Maud killed Krill, though she might have guessed it, after the way
+in which Lady Rachel was murdered. I daresay she'll get off. I'm going
+to see her shortly and tell her of the terrible death of her daughter."</p>
+
+<p>Paul did not pursue the conversation. He was sick with the horror of the
+business, and, moreover, was too anxious about Sylvia's health to take
+much interest in the winding up of the case. That he left in the hands
+of Hurd, and assured him that the thousand pounds reward, which Mrs.
+Krill had offered, would be paid to him by Miss Norman.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, Pash had known for some time that Maud was too old to have
+been born of Mrs. Jessop's second marriage with Krill; but he never knew
+that the widow had committed bigamy. He counted on keeping her under his
+thumb by threatening to prove that Maud was not legally entitled to the
+money. But when the discovery was made at Beechill and Stowley Churches
+by Miss Qian, the monkey-faced lawyer could do nothing. Beecot could
+have exposed him, and for his malpractices have got him struck off the
+rolls; but he simply punished him by taking away Sylvia's business and
+giving it to Ford. That
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>
+enterprising young solicitor speedily placed the monetary affairs on a
+proper basis and saw that Sylvia was properly reinstated in her rights.
+Seeing that she was the only child and legal heiress of Krill, this was
+not difficult. The two women who had illegally secured possession of the
+money had spent a great deal in a very wasteful manner, but the dead
+man's investments were so excellent and judicious that Sylvia lost
+comparatively little, and became possessed of nearly five thousand a
+year, with a prospect of her income increasing. But she was too ill to
+appreciate this good fortune. The case got into the papers, and everyone
+was astonished at the strange sequel to the Gwynne Street mystery.
+Beecot senior, reading the papers, learned that Sylvia was once more an
+heiress, and forthwith held out an olive branch to Paul. Moreover, the
+frantic old gentleman, as Deborah called him, really began to feel his
+years, and to feel also that he had treated his only son rather harshly.
+So he magnanimously offered to forgive Paul on no conditions whatsoever.
+For the sake of his mother, the young man buried the past and went down
+to be received in a stately manner by his father, and with joyful tears
+by his mother. Also he was most anxious to hear details of the case
+which had not been made public. Paul told him everything, and Beecot
+senior snorted with rage. The recital proved too much for Mrs. Beecot,
+who retired as usual to bed and fortified herself with sal volatile; but
+Paul and his respected parent sat up till late discussing the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, sir," said Beecot senior, grasping the stem of his wine glass,
+as though he intended to hurl it at his son, "let us gather up the
+threads of this infamous case. This atrocious woman who tried to
+strangle your future wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"She has been buried quietly. Her mother was at the funeral and so was
+the father."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>
+
+<p>"A pretty pair," gobbled the turkey-cock, growing red. "I suppose the
+Government will hang the pair?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Captain Jessop can't be touched as he had nothing to do with the
+murder, and Sylvia and myself are not going to prosecute him for his
+attempt to get the jewels from Pash."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you ought to. It's a duty you owe to society."</p>
+
+<p>Paul shook his head. "I think it best to leave things as they are,
+father," he said mildly, "especially as Mrs. Jessop, much broken in
+health because of her daughter's terrible end, has gone back with her
+husband to live at his house in Stowley."</p>
+
+<p>"What," shouted Beecot senior, "is that she-devil to go free, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think she was so bad as we thought," said Paul. "I fancied she
+was a thoroughly bad woman, but she really was not. She certainly
+committed bigamy, but then she thought Jessop was drowned. When he came
+to life she preferred to live with Krill, as he had more money than
+Jessop."</p>
+
+<p>"And, therefore, Jessop, as you say, had free quarters at 'The Red Pig.'
+A most immoral woman, sir&mdash;most immoral. She ought to be ducked."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor wretch," said Paul, "her mind has nearly given way under the shock
+of her daughter's death. She loved that child and shielded her from the
+consequences of killing Lady Rachel. The Sandal family don't want the
+case revived, especially as Maud is dead, so Mrs. Jessop&mdash;as she is
+now&mdash;can end her days in peace. The Government decided to let her go
+under the circumstances."</p>
+
+<p>"Tush," said Beecot senior, "sugar-coated pills and idiocy. Nothing will
+ever be done properly until this Government goes out. And it will,"
+striking the table with his fist, "if I have anything to do
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>
+with the matter. So Mrs. Krill or Jessop is free to murder, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She murdered no one," interposed Paul, quickly; "she knew that her
+daughter had killed Lady Rachel, and shielded her. But she was never
+sure if Maud had strangled Krill, as she feared to ask her. But as the
+girl was out all night at the time of the murder, Mrs. Jessop, I think,
+knows more than she choses to admit. However, the Treasury won't
+prosecute her, and her mind is now weak. Let the poor creature end her
+days with Jessop, father. Is there anything else you wish to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"That boy Tray?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was tried for being an accessory before the crime, but his counsel
+put forward the plea of his age, and that he had been under the
+influence of Maud. He has been sent to a reformatory for a good number
+of years. He may improve."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" grunted the old gentleman, "and silk purses may be made out of
+sow's ears; but not in our time, my boy. We'll hear more of that
+juvenile scoundrel yet. Now that, that blackguard, Hay?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has gone abroad, and is likely to remain abroad. Sandal and Tempest
+kept their word, but I think Hurd put it about that Hay was a cheat and
+a scoundrel. Poor Hay," sighed Paul, "he has ruined his career."</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! he never had one. If you pity scoundrels, Paul, what are you to
+think of good people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Such as Deborah who is nursing my darling? I think she's the best woman
+in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Except your mother?"</p>
+
+<p>Paul nearly fell from his seat on hearing this remark. Beecot senior
+certainly might have been in earnest, but his good opinion did not
+prevent him still continuing to worry Mrs. Beecot, which he did to the
+end of her life.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose that Matilda Junk creature had nothing
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>
+to do with the murder?" asked Beecot, after an embarrassing
+pause&mdash;on his son's part.</p>
+
+<p>"No. She knew absolutely nothing, and only attacked Deborah because she
+fancied Deborah was attacking Maud. However, the two sisters have made
+it up, and Matilda has gone back to 'The Red Pig.' She's as decent a
+creature as Deborah, in another way, and was absolutely ignorant of
+Maud's wickedness. Hurd guessed that when she spoke to him so freely at
+Christchurch."</p>
+
+<p>"And the Thug?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hokar? Oh, he is not really a Thug, but the descendant of one. However,
+they can't prove that he strangled anything beyond a few cats and dogs
+when he showed Maud how to use the roomal&mdash;that's the handkerchief with
+which the Thugs strangled their victims."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not absolutely ignorant," growled his father. "I know that. So this
+Hokar goes free?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He would not strangle Aaron Norman because he had but one eye, and
+Bhowanee won't accept maimed persons. Failing him, Maud had to attend to
+the job herself, with the assistance of Tray."</p>
+
+<p>"And this detective?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Ford, with Sylvia's sanction, has paid him the thousand pounds,
+which he shares with his sister, Aurora Qian. But for her searching at
+Stowley and Beechill, we should never have known about the marriage, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't know. They're far too highly paid. The marriage would have
+come to light in another way. However, waste your own money if you like;
+it isn't mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor mine either, father," said Paul, sharply. "Sylvia will keep her own
+fortune. I am not a man to live on my wife. I intend to take a house in
+town when we are married, and then I'll still continue to write."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Without the spur of poverty you'll never make a hit," grinned the old
+gentleman. "However, you can live where you please. It's no business of
+mine but I demand, as your indulgent father, that you'll bring Sylvia
+down here at least three times a year. Whenever she is well I want to
+see her."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bring her next week," said Paul, thinking of his mother. "But
+Deborah must come too. She won't leave Sylvia."</p>
+
+<p>"The house is big enough. Bring Mrs. Tawsey also&mdash;I'm rather anxious to
+see her. And Sylvia will be a good companion for your mother."</p>
+
+<p>So matters were arranged in this way, and when Paul returned to town he
+went at once to tell Sylvia of the reconciliation. He found her, propped
+up with pillows, seated by the fire, looking much better, although she
+was still thin and rather haggard. Deborah hovered round her and spoke
+in a cautious whisper, which was more annoying than a loud voice would
+have been. Sylvia flushed with joy when she saw Paul, and flushed still
+more when she heard the good news.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so glad, darling," she said, holding Paul's hand in her thin ones.
+"I should not have liked our marriage to have kept you from your
+father."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tawsey snorted. "His frantic par," she said, "ah, well, when I meet
+'im, if he dares to say a word agin my pretty&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My father is quite ready to welcome her as a daughter," said Paul,
+quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"An' no poor one either," cried Deborah, triumphantly. "Five thousand a
+year, as that nice young man Mr. Ford have told us is right. Lor'! my
+lovely queen, you'll drive in your chariot and forget Debby."</p>
+
+<p>"You foolish old thing," said the girl, fondly, "you held to me in my
+troubles and you shall share in my joy."</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>
+
+<p>"Allays purvidin' I don't 'ave to leave the laundry in charge of Bart
+an' Mrs. Purr, both bein' infants of silliness, one with gin and t'other
+with weakness of brain. It's well I made Bart promise to love, honor and
+obey me, Mr. Beecot, the same as you must do to my own lily flower
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"No, <i>I</i> am to love, honor and obey Paul," cried Sylvia.</p>
+
+<p>"When?" he asked, taking her in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as I can stand at the altar," she replied, blushing, whereat
+Deborah clapped her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Weddin's an' weddin's an' weddin's agin," cried Mrs. Tawsey, "which my
+sister Matilder being weary of 'er spinstering 'ome 'ave made up 'er
+mind to marry the fust as offers. An' won't she lead 'im a dance
+neither&mdash;oh, no, not at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Deborah," said Beecot, "we have much to be thankful for, all of
+us. Let us try and show our gratitude in our lives."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well, you may say that," sighed Mrs. Tawsey, in a devout manner.
+"Who'd ha' thought things would have turned out so 'appy-like indeed.
+But you go on with your billin', my lovely ones, and I'll git th'
+mutting broth to put color int' my pretty's cheeks," and she bustled
+out.</p>
+
+<p>Sylvia's heart was too full to say anything. She lay in Paul's strong
+arms, her cheek against his. There she would remain for the rest of her
+life, protected from storm and tempest. And as they sat in silence, the
+chimes of an ancient grandfather's clock, Deborah's chief treasure, rang
+out twice, thrice and again. Paul laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's like wedding-bells," he whispered, and his future wife sighed a
+sigh of heart-felt joy.</p>
+
+<h4>THE END</h4>
+
+<p class="smaller right"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="center larger">THE BEST NOVELS BY<br />
+FERGUS HUME</p>
+
+<table summary="Advert">
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Mystery of a Hansom Cab&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="right larger">$1.25</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Sealed Message</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Sacred Herb</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">Claude Duval of Ninety-five</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Rainbow Feather</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Pagan's Cup</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">A Coin of Edward VII</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Yellow Holly</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Red Window</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Mandarin's Fan</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Secret Passage</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">The Opal Serpent</td><td class="right larger">1.25</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="left larger">Lady Jim of Curzon Street</td><td class="right larger">1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<pre>
+Transcriber's Note
+
+The advert ("The Best Novels by Fergus Hume") was originally at the
+front of the book, but has been moved to the end.
+
+The following typographical corrections have been made:
+
+(page 8) "furthur" changed to "further"
+(page 11) "Notebook" changed to "Note-book"
+(page 33) "lookout" changed to "look-out"
+(page 49) "eyeglass" changed to "eye-glass"
+(page 59) "hand-bag" changed to "handbag"
+(pages 71, 85) "agoin'" changed to "a-goin'"
+(page 71) "It" changed to "If" in "If we come to"
+(page 84) quotation mark added after "look&mdash;look&mdash;"
+(page 109) "Deborrah" changed to "Deborah"
+(page 111) quotation mark added before "How dare you"
+(page 113) "pou" changed to "you" ("before you became an heiress")
+(page 132) "is" changed to "it" ("that is was picked up")
+(page 140) "mid-night" changed to "midnight"
+(page 163) "schoolfellow" changed to "school-fellow"
+(page 173) "non-plussed" changed to "nonplussed"
+(page 180) "handbills" changed to "hand-bills"
+(page 188) "beliving" changed to "believing"
+(pages 203, 204) "bed-post" changed to "bedpost"
+(page 214) "sipte" changed to "spite"
+(page 211) used single quotation marks for the inscription
+(page 225) quotation mark added before "On no condition"
+(page 243) quotation mark added after "seem to win,"
+(page 264) quotation mark added before "for I"
+(page 269) quotation mark added after "certificate."
+(page 276) question mark added after "lawyer you are"
+(page 303) "pining" changed to "pinning"
+(page 315) "slience" changed to "silence"
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Opal Serpent, by Fergus Hume
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
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@@ -0,0 +1,10982 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Opal Serpent, by Fergus Hume
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Opal Serpent
+
+Author: Fergus Hume
+
+Release Date: March 6, 2008 [EBook #24769]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OPAL SERPENT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Andrew Wainwright, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                             The Opal Serpent
+
+                                    By
+
+                                Fergus Hume
+
+                                 AUTHOR OF
+
+           "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," "THE RAINBOW FEATHER,"
+                "A COIN OF EDWARD VII.," "THE PAGAN'S CUP,"
+                  "THE SECRET PASSAGE," "THE RED WINDOW,"
+                        "THE MANDARIN'S FAN," ETC.
+
+                          G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
+                            PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+
+                            COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY
+                          G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY.
+
+                            _Issued July, 1905._
+
+
+[Illustration: "LOOK! LOOK!" CRIED SYLVIA, GASPING--"THE MOUTH!"]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAP.                                                            PAGE
+
+    I. DON QUIXOTE IN LONDON                                        7
+
+   II. DEBORAH JUNK, DUENNA                                        19
+
+  III. DULCINEA OF GWYNNE STREET                                   32
+
+   IV. THE UNFORESEEN                                              44
+
+    V. TROUBLE                                                     56
+
+   VI. A NOISE IN THE NIGHT                                        68
+
+  VII. A TERRIBLE NIGHT                                            80
+
+ VIII. THE VERDICT OF THE JURY                                     91
+
+   IX. CASTLES IN THE AIR                                         103
+
+    X. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE                                       115
+
+   XI. A CUCKOO IN THE NEST                                       126
+
+  XII. THE NEW LIFE                                               137
+
+ XIII. THE DETECTIVE'S VIEWS                                      148
+
+  XIV. MR. HAY'S LITTLE DINNER                                    161
+
+   XV. A NEW CLUE                                                 172
+
+  XVI. SYLVIA'S THEORY                                            185
+
+ XVII. HURD'S INFORMATION                                         196
+
+XVIII. AT CHRISTCHURCH, HANTS                                     208
+
+  XIX. CAPTAIN JESSOP                                             219
+
+   XX. PART OF THE TRUTH                                          228
+
+  XXI. MISS QIAN'S PARTY                                          241
+
+ XXII. FURTHER EVIDENCE                                           254
+
+XXIII. WHAT PASH SAID                                             266
+
+ XXIV. MRS. KRILL AT BAY                                          278
+
+  XXV. A CRUEL WOMAN                                              291
+
+ XXVI. A FINAL EXPLANATION                                        306
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+DON QUIXOTE IN LONDON
+
+
+Simon Beecot was a country gentleman with a small income, a small estate
+and a mind considerably smaller than either. He dwelt at Wargrove in
+Essex and spent his idle hours--of which he possessed a daily and
+nightly twenty-four--in snarling at his faded wife and in snapping
+between whiles at his son. Mrs. Beecot, having been bullied into old age
+long before her time, accepted sour looks and hard words as necessary to
+God's providence, but Paul, a fiery youth, resented useless nagging. He
+owned more brain-power than his progenitor, and to this favoring of
+Nature paterfamilias naturally objected. Paul also desired fame, which
+was likewise a crime in the fire-side tyrant's eyes.
+
+As there were no other children Paul was heir to the Beecot acres,
+therefore their present proprietor suggested that his son should wait
+with idle hands for the falling in of the heritage. In plain words, Mr.
+Beecot, coming of a long line of middle-class loafers, wished his son to
+be a loafer also. Again, when Mrs. Beecot retired to a tearful rest, her
+bully found Paul a useful person on whom to expend his spleen. Should
+this whipping-boy leave, Mr. Beecot would have to forego this enjoyment,
+as servants object to being sworn at without cause. For years Mr.
+Beecot indulged in bouts of bad temper, till Paul, finding twenty-five
+too dignified an age to tolerate abuse, announced his intention of
+storming London as a scribbler.
+
+The parents objected in detail. Mrs. Beecot, after her kind, dissolved
+in tears, and made reference to young birds leaving the nest, while her
+husband, puffed out like a frog, and redder than the wattles of a
+turkey-cock, exhausted himself in well-chosen expressions. Paul
+increased the use of these by fixing a day for his departure. The female
+Beecot retired to bed with the assistance of a maid, burnt feathers and
+sal volatile, and the male, as a last and clinching argument,
+figuratively buttoned up his pockets.
+
+"Not one shilling will you get from me," said Beecot senior, with the
+graceful addition of vigorous adjectives.
+
+"I don't ask for money," said Paul, keeping his temper, for after all
+the turkey-cock was his father. "I have saved fifty pounds. Not out of
+my pocket-money," he added hastily, seeing further objections on the
+way. "I earned it by writing short stories."
+
+"The confounded mercantile instinct," snorted paterfamilias, only he
+used stronger words. "Your mother's uncle was in trade. Thank Heaven
+none of my people ever used hands or brains. The Beecots lived like
+gentlemen."
+
+"I should say like cabbages from your description, father."
+
+"No insolence, sir. How dare you disgrace your family? Writing tales
+indeed! Rubbish I expect" (here several adjectives). "And you took money
+I'll be bound, eh! eh!"
+
+"I have just informed you that I took all I could get," said Beecot
+junior, quietly. "I'll live in Town on my savings. When I make a name
+and a fortune I'll return."
+
+"Never! never!" gobbled the turkey-cock. "If you descend to the gutter
+you can wallow there. I'll cut you out of my will."
+
+"Very good, sir, that's settled. Let us change the subject."
+
+But the old gentleman was too high-spirited to leave well alone. He
+demanded to know if Paul knew to whom he was talking, inquired if he had
+read the Bible touching the duties of children to their parents,
+instanced the fact that Paul's dear mother would probably pine away and
+die, and ended with a pathetic reference to losing the prop of his old
+age. Paul listened respectfully and held to his own opinion. In defence
+of the same he replied in detail,--
+
+"I am aware that I talk to my father, sir," said he, with spirit; "you
+never allow me to forget that fact. If another man spoke to me as you do
+I should probably break his head. I _have_ read the Bible, and find
+therein that parents owe a duty to their children, which certainly does
+not include being abused like a pick-pocket. My mother will not pine
+away if you will leave her alone for at least three hours a day. And as
+to my being the prop of your old age, your vigor of language assures me
+that you are strong enough to stand alone."
+
+Paterfamilias, never bearded before, hastily drank a glass of port--the
+two were enjoying the usual pleasant family meal when the conversation
+took place--and said--but it is useless to detail his remarks. They were
+all sound and no sense. In justice to himself, and out of pity for his
+father, Paul cut short the scene by leaving the room with his
+determination unchanged. Mr. Beecot thereupon retired to bed, and
+lectured his wife on the enormity of having brought a parricide into the
+world. Having been countered for once in his life with common-sense, he
+felt that he could not put the matter too strongly to a woman, who was
+too weak to resent his bullying.
+
+Early next day the cause of the commotion, not having swerved a
+hair's-breadth from the path he had marked out, took leave of his
+mother, and a formal farewell of the gentleman who described himself as
+the best of fathers. Beecot senior, turkey-cock and tyrant, was more
+subdued now that he found bluster would not carry his point. But the
+wave of common-sense came too late. Paul departed bag and baggage, and
+his sire swore to the empty air. Even Mrs. Beecot was not available, as
+she had fainted.
+
+Once Paul was fairly out of the house paterfamilias announced that the
+glory of Israel had departed, removed his son's photograph from the
+drawing-room, and considered which of the relatives he had quarrelled
+with he should adopt. Privately, he thought he had been a trifle hard on
+the lad, and but for his obstinacy--which he called firmness--he would
+have recalled the prodigal. But that enterprising adventurer was beyond
+hearing, and had left no address behind him. Beecot, the bully, was not
+a bad old boy if only he had been firmly dealt with, so he acknowledged
+that Paul had a fine spirit of his own, inherited from himself, and
+prophesied incorrectly. "He'll come back when the fifty pounds is
+exhausted," said he in a kind of dejected rage, "and when he does--" A
+clenched fist shaken at nothing terminated the speech and showed that
+the leopard could not change his spots.
+
+So Paul Beecot repaired to London, and after the orthodox fashion began
+to cultivate the Muses on a little oatmeal by renting a Bloomsbury
+garret. There he wrote reams on all subjects and in all styles, and for
+six months assiduously haunted publishers' doors with varying fortunes.
+Sometimes he came away with a cheque, but more often with a bulky
+manuscript bulging his pocket. When tired of setting down imaginary
+woes he had time to think of his own; but being a cheerful youth, with
+an indomitable spirit, he banished trouble by interesting himself in the
+cheap world. By this is meant the world which costs no money to
+view--the world of the street. Here he witnessed the drama of humanity
+from morning till night, and from sunset till dawn, and on the whole
+witnessed very good acting. The poorer parts in the human comedy were
+particularly well played, and starving folks were quite dramatic in
+their demands for food. Note-book in hand, Paul witnessed spectacular
+shows in the West End, grotesque farces in the Strand, melodrama in
+Whitechapel and tragedy on Waterloo Bridge at midnight. Indeed, he quite
+spoiled the effect of a sensation scene by tugging at the skirts of a
+starving heroine who wished to take a river journey into the next world.
+But for the most part, he remained a spectator and plagiarised from real
+life.
+
+Shortly, the great manager of the Universal Theatre enlisted Paul as an
+actor, and he assumed the double _role_ of an unappreciated author and a
+sighing lover. In the first capacity he had in his desk ten short
+stories, a couple of novels, three dramas and a sheaf of doubtful
+verses. These failed to appeal to editor, manager or publisher, and
+their author found himself reduced to his last five-pound note. Then the
+foolish, ardent lad must needs fall in love. Who his divinity was, what
+she was, and why she should be divinised, can be gathered from a
+conversation her worshipper held with an old school-fellow.
+
+It was in Oxford Street at five o'clock on a June afternoon that Paul
+met Grexon Hay. Turning the corner of the street leading to his
+Bloomsbury attic, the author was tapped on the shoulder by a resplendent
+Bond Street being. That is, the said being wore a perfectly-fitting
+frock-coat, a silk hat, trousers with the regulation fold back and
+front, an orchid buttonhole, grey gloves, boots that glittered, and
+carried a gold-topped cane. The fact that Paul wheeled without wincing
+showed that he was not yet in debt. Your Grub Street old-time author
+would have leaped his own length at the touch. But Paul, with a clean
+conscience, turned slowly, and gazed without recognition into the
+clean-shaven, calm, cold face that confronted his inquiring eyes.
+
+"Beecot!" said the newcomer, taking rapid stock of Paul's shabby serge
+suit and worn looks. "I thought I was right."
+
+The voice, if not the face, awoke old memories.
+
+"Hay--Grexon Hay!" cried the struggling genius. "Well, I am glad to see
+you," and he shook hands with the frank grip of an honest man.
+
+"And I you." Hay drew his friend up the side street and out of the human
+tide which deluged the pavement. "But you seem--"
+
+"It's a long story," interrupted Paul flushing. "Come to my castle and
+I'll tell you all about it, old boy. You'll stay to supper, won't you?
+See here"--Paul displayed a parcel--"a pound of sausages. You loved 'em
+at school, and I'm a superfine cook."
+
+Grexon Hay always used expression and word to hide his feelings. But
+with Paul--whom he had always considered a generous ass at Torrington
+school--a trifle of self-betrayal didn't matter much. Beecot was too
+dense, and, it may be added, too honest to turn any opportunity to
+advantage. "It's a most surprising thing," said Hay, in his calm way,
+"really a most surprising thing, that a Torrington public school boy, my
+friend, and the son of wealthy parents, should be buying sausages."
+
+"Come now," said Paul, with great spirit and towing Hay homeward, "I
+haven't asked you for money."
+
+"If you do you shall have it," said Hay, but the offer was not so
+generous a one as would appear. That was Hay all over. He always said
+what he did not mean, and knew well that Beecot's uneasy pride shied at
+loans however small.
+
+Paul, the unsophisticated, took the shadow of generosity for its
+substance, and his dark face lighted up. "You're a brick, Hay," he
+declared, "but I don't want money. No!"--this in reply to an eloquent
+glance from the well-to-do--"I have sufficient for my needs, and
+besides," with a look at the resplendent dress of the fashion-plate
+dandy, "I don't glitter in the West End."
+
+"Which hints that those who do, are rich," said Grexon, with an arctic
+smile. "Wrong, Beecot. I'm poor. Only paupers can afford to dress well."
+
+"In that case I must be a millionaire," laughed Beecot, glancing
+downward at his well-worn garb. "But mount these stairs; we have much to
+say to one another."
+
+"Much that is pleasant," said the courtly Grexon.
+
+Paul shrugged his square shoulders and stepped heavenward. "On your
+part, I hope," he sang back; "certainly not on mine. Come to Poverty
+Castle," and the fashionable visitor found his host lighting the fire in
+an apartment such as he had read about but had never seen.
+
+It was quite the proper garret for starving genius--small, bleak, bare,
+but scrupulously clean. The floor was partially covered with scraps of
+old carpet, faded and worn; the walls were entirely papered with
+pictures from illustrated journals. One window, revealing endless rows
+of dingy chimney-pots, was draped with shabby rep curtains of a dull
+red. In one corner, behind an Indian screen, stood a narrow camp
+bedstead, covered with a gaudy Eastern shawl, and also a large tin bath,
+with a can of water beside it. Against the wall leaned a clumsy deal
+bookcase filled with volumes well-thumbed and in old bindings. On one
+side of the tiny fireplace was a horse-hair sofa, rendered less slippery
+by an expensive fur rug thrown over its bareness; on the other was a
+cupboard, whence Beecot rapidly produced crockery, knives, forks, a
+cruet, napkins and other table accessories, all of the cheapest
+description. A deal table in the centre of the room, an antique mahogany
+desk, heaped high with papers, under the window, completed the
+furnishing of Poverty Castle. And it was up four flights of stairs like
+that celebrated attic in Thackeray's poem.
+
+"As near heaven as I am likely to get," rattled on Beecot, deftly frying
+the sausages, after placing his visitor on the sofa. "The grub will soon
+be ready. I'm a first-class cook, bless you, old chap. Housemaid too.
+Clean, eh?" He waved the fork proudly round the ill-furnished room. "I'd
+dismiss myself if it wasn't."
+
+"But--but," stammered Hay, much amazed, and surveying things through an
+eye-glass. "What are you doing here?"
+
+"Trying to get my foot on the first rung of Fame's ladder."
+
+"But I don't quite see--"
+
+"Read Balzac's life and you will. His people gave him an attic and a
+starvation allowance in the hope of disgusting him. Bar the allowance,
+my pater has done the same. Here's the attic, and here's my
+starvation"--Paul gaily popped the frizzling sausages on a chipped hot
+plate--"and here's your aspiring servant hoping to be novelist,
+dramatist, and what not--to say nothing of why not? Mustard, there you
+are. Wait a bit. I'll brew you tea or cocoa."
+
+"I never take those things with meals, Beecot."
+
+"Your kit assures me of that. Champagne's more in your line. I say,
+Grexon, what are you doing now?"
+
+"What other West-End men do," said Grexon, attacking a sausage.
+
+"That means nothing. Well, you never did work at Torrington, so how can
+I expect the leopard to change his saucy spots."
+
+Hay laughed, and, during the meal, explained his position. "On leaving
+school I was adopted by a rich uncle," he said. "When he went the way of
+all flesh he left me a thousand a year, which is enough to live on with
+strict economy. I have rooms in Alexander Street, Camden Hill, a circle
+of friends, and a good appetite, as you will perceive. With these I get
+through life very comfortably."
+
+"Ha!" said Paul, darting a keen glance at his visitor, "you have the
+strong digestion necessary to happiness. Have you the hard heart also?
+If I remember at school--"
+
+"Oh, hang school!" said Grexon, flushing all over his cold face. "I
+never think of school. I was glad when I got away from it. But we were
+great friends at school, Paul."
+
+"Something after the style of Steerforth and David Copperfield," was
+Paul's reply as he pushed back his plate; "you were my hero, and I was
+your slave. But the other boys--" He looked again.
+
+"They hated me, because they did not understand me, as you did."
+
+"If that is so, Grexon, why did you let me slip out of your life? It is
+ten years since we parted. I was fifteen and you twenty."
+
+"Which now makes us twenty-five and thirty respectively," said Hay,
+dryly; "you left school before I did."
+
+"Yes; I had scarlet fever, and was taken home to be nursed. I never went
+back, and since then I have never met an old Torrington boy--"
+
+"Have you not?" asked Hay, eagerly.
+
+"No. My parents took me abroad, and I sampled a German university. I
+returned to idle about my father's place, till I grew sick of doing
+nothing, and, having ambitions, I came to try my luck in town." He
+looked round and laughed. "You see my luck."
+
+"Well," said Hay, lighting a dainty cigarette produced from a gold case,
+"my uncle, who died, sent me to Oxford and then I travelled. I am now on
+my own, as I told you, and haven't a relative in the world."
+
+"Why don't you marry?" asked Paul, with a flush.
+
+Hay, wary man-about-town as he was, noted the flush, and guessed its
+cause. He could put two and two together as well as most people.
+
+"I might ask you the same question," said he.
+
+The two friends looked at one another, and each thought of the
+difference in his companion since the old school-days. Hay was
+clean-shaven, fair-haired, and calm, almost icy, in manner. His eyes
+were blue and cold. No one could tell what was passing in his mind from
+the expression of his face. As a matter of fact he usually wore a mask,
+but at the present moment, better feelings having the upper hand, the
+mask had slipped a trifle. But as a rule he kept command of expression,
+and words, and actions. An admirable example of self-control was Grexon
+Hay.
+
+On the other hand, Beecot was slight, tall and dark, with an eager
+manner and a face which revealed his thoughts. His complexion was swart;
+he had large black eyes, a sensitive mouth, and a small moustache
+smartly twisted upward. He carried his head well, and looked rather
+military in appearance, probably because many of his forebears had been
+Army men. While Hay was smartly dressed in a Bond Street kit, Paul wore
+a well-cut, shabby blue serge. He looked perfectly well-bred, but his
+clothes were woefully threadbare.
+
+From these and the garret and the lean meal of sausages Hay drew his
+conclusions and put them into words.
+
+"Your father has cut you off," said he, calmly, "and yet you propose to
+marry."
+
+"How do you know both things?"
+
+"I keep my eyes open, Paul. I see this attic and your clothes. I saw
+also the flush on your face when you asked me why I did not marry. You
+are in love?"
+
+"I am," said Beecot, becoming scarlet, and throwing back his head. "It
+is clever of you to guess it. Prophesy more."
+
+Hay smiled in a cold way. "I prophesy that if you marry on nothing you
+will be miserable. But of course," he looked sharply at his open-faced
+friend, "the lady may be rich."
+
+"She is the daughter of a second-hand bookseller called Norman, and I
+believe he combines selling books with pawnbroking."
+
+"Hum," said Hay, "he might make money out of the last occupation. Is he
+a Jew by any chance?"
+
+"No. He is a miserable-looking, one-eyed Christian, with the manner of a
+frightened rabbit."
+
+"One-eyed and frightened," repeated Hay, musingly, but without change of
+expression; "desirable father-in-law. And the daughter?"
+
+"Sylvia. She is an angel, a white lily, a--"
+
+"Of course," said Grexon, cutting short these rhapsodies. "And what do
+you intend to marry on?"
+
+Beecot fished a shabby blue velvet case out of his pocket. "On my last
+five pounds and this," he said, opening the case.
+
+Hay looked at the contents of the case, and saw a rather large brooch
+made in the form of a jewelled serpent. "Opals, diamonds and gold," he
+said slowly, then looked up eagerly. "Sell it to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DEBORAH JUNK, DUENNA
+
+
+Number forty-five Gwynne Street was a second-hand bookshop, and much of
+the stock was almost as old as the building itself. A weather-stained
+board of faded blue bore in tarnished gold lettering the name of its
+owner, and under this were two broad windows divided by a squat door,
+open on week-days from eight in the morning until eight at night. Within
+the shop was dark and had a musty odor.
+
+On either side of the quaint old house was a butcher's and a baker's,
+flaunting places of business, raw in their newness. Between the
+first-named establishment and the bookshop a low, narrow passage led to
+a small backyard and to a flight of slimy steps, down which clients who
+did not wish to be seen could arrive at a kind of cellar to transact
+business with Mr. Norman.
+
+This individual combined two distinct trades. On the ground floor he
+sold second-hand books; in the cellar he bought jewels and gave money on
+the same to needy people. In the shop, pale youths, untidy, abstracted
+old men, spectacled girls, and all varieties of the pundit caste were to
+be seen poring over ancient volumes or exchanging words with the
+proprietor. But to the cellar came fast young men, aged spendthrifts,
+women of no reputation and some who were very respectable indeed. These
+usually came at night, and in the cellar transactions would take place
+which involved much money exchanging hands. In the daytime Mr. Norman
+was an innocent bookseller, but after seven he retired to the cellar and
+became as genuine a pawnbroker as could be found in London. Touching
+books he was easy enough to deal with, but a Shylock as regards jewels
+and money lent. With his bookish clients he passed for a dull shopkeeper
+who knew little about literature; but in the underground establishment
+he was spoken of, by those who came to pawn, as a usurer of the worst.
+In an underhand way he did a deal of business.
+
+Aaron Norman--such was the name over the shop--looked like a man with a
+past--a miserable past, for in his one melancholy eye and twitching,
+nervous mouth could be read sorrow and apprehension. His face was pale,
+and he had an odd habit of glancing over his left shoulder, as though he
+expected to be tapped thereon by a police officer. Sixty years had
+rounded his shoulders and weakened his back, so that his one eye was
+almost constantly on the ground. Suffering had scored marks on his
+forehead and weary lines round his thin-lipped mouth. When he spoke he
+did so in a low, hesitating voice, and when he looked up, which was
+seldom, his eye revealed a hunted look like that of a wearied beast
+fearful lest it should be dragged from its lair.
+
+It was this strange-looking man that Paul Beecot encountered in the
+doorway of the Gwynne Street shop the day after his meeting with Hay.
+Many a visit had Paul paid to that shop, and not always to buy books.
+Norman knew him very well, and, recognizing him in a fleeting look as he
+passed through the doorway, smiled weakly. Behind the counter stood Bart
+Tawsey, the lean underling, who was much sharper with buyers than was
+his master, but after a disappointed glance in his direction Paul
+addressed himself to the bookseller. "I wish to see you particularly,"
+he said, with his eager air.
+
+"I am going out on important business," said Norman, "but if you will
+not be very long--"
+
+"It's about a brooch I wish to pawn."
+
+The old man's mouth became hard and his eyes sharper. "I can't attend to
+that now, Mr. Beecot," he said, and his voice rang out louder than
+usual. "After seven."
+
+"It's only six now," said Paul, looking over his shoulder at a church
+clock which could be seen clearly in the pale summer twilight. "I can't
+wait."
+
+"Well, then, as you are an old customer--of books," said Aaron, with
+emphasis, "I'll stretch a point. You can go below at a quarter to seven,
+and I'll come round through the outside passage to see you. Meantime, I
+must go about my business," and he went away with his head hanging and
+his solitary eye searching the ground as usual.
+
+Paul, in spite of his supposed hurry, was not ill-pleased that Aaron had
+gone out and that there was an idle hour before him. He stepped lightly
+into the shop, and, under the flaring gas--which was lighted, so dark
+was the interior of the shop in spite of the luminous gloaming--he
+encountered the smile of Barty. Paul, who was sensitive and proudly
+reticent, grew red. He knew well enough that his apparent admiration of
+Sylvia Norman had attracted the notice of Bart and of the red-armed
+wench, Deborah Junk, who was the factotum of the household. Not that he
+minded, for both these servants were devoted to Sylvia, and knowing that
+she returned the feelings of Paul said nothing about the position to
+Aaron. Beecot could not afford to make enemies of the pair, and had no
+wish to do so. They were coarse-grained and common, but loyal and kindly
+of heart.
+
+"Got any new books, Bart?" asked Beecot, coming forward with roving
+eyes, for he hoped to see Sylvia glide out of the darkness to bless his
+hungry eyes.
+
+"No, sir. We never get new books," replied Bart, smartly. "Leastways
+there's a batch of second-hand novels published last year. But bless
+you, Mr. Beecot, there ain't nothing new about them 'cept the bindings."
+
+"You are severe, Bart. I hope to be a novelist myself."
+
+"We need one, sir. For the most part them as write now ain't novelists,
+if that means telling anything as is new. But I must go upstairs, sir.
+Miss Sylvia said I was to tell her when you came."
+
+"Oh, yes--er--er--that is--she wants to see a photograph of my old home.
+I promised to show it to her." Paul took a parcel out of his pocket.
+"Can't I go up?"
+
+"No, sir. 'Twouldn't be wise. The old man may come back, and if he knew
+as you'd been in his house," Bart jerked his head towards the ceiling,
+"he'd take a fit."
+
+"Why? He doesn't think I'm after the silver?"
+
+"Lor' bless you no, sir. It ain't that. What's valuable--silver and gold
+and jewels and such like--is down there." Bart nodded towards the floor.
+"But Mr. Norman don't like people coming into his private rooms. He's
+never let in anyone for years."
+
+"Perhaps he fears to lose the fairest jewel he has."
+
+Bart was what the Scotch call "quick in the uptake." "He don't think so
+much of her as he ought to, sir," said he, gloomily. "But I know he
+loves her, and wants to make her a great heiress. When he goes to the
+worms Miss Sylvia will have a pretty penny. I only hope," added Bart,
+looking slyly at Paul, "that he who has her to wife won't squander what
+the old man has worked for."
+
+Beecot colored still more at this direct hint, and would have replied,
+but at this moment a large, red-faced, ponderous woman dashed into the
+shop from a side door. "There," said she, clapping her hands in a
+childish way, "I know'd his vice, an' I ses to Miss Sylvia, as is
+sittin' doing needlework, which she do do lovely, I ses 'That's him,'
+and she ses, with a lovely color, 'Oh, Deborah, jus' see, fur m'eart's
+abeating too loud for me t'ear 'is vice.' So I ses--"
+
+Here she became breathless and clapped her hands again, so as to prevent
+interruption. But Paul did interrupt her, knowing from experience that
+when once set going Deborah would go on until pulled up. "Can't I go up
+to Miss Norman?" he asked.
+
+"You may murder me, and slay me, and trample on my corp," said Deborah,
+solemnly, "but go up you can't. Master would send me to walk the streets
+if I dared to let you, innocent as you are, go up them stairs."
+
+Paul knew long ago how prejudiced the old man was in this respect.
+During all the six months he had known Sylvia he had never been
+permitted to mount the stairs in question. It was strange that Aaron
+should be so particular on this point, but connecting it with his
+downcast eye and frightened air, Paul concluded, though without much
+reason, that the old man had something to conceal. More, that he was
+frightened of someone. However, he did not argue the point, but
+suggested a meeting-place. "Can't I see her in the cellar?" he asked.
+"Mr. Norman said I could go down to wait for him."
+
+"Sir," said Deborah, plunging forward a step, like a stumbling 'bus
+horse, "don't tell me as you want to pawn."
+
+"Well, I do," replied Paul, softly, "but you needn't tell everyone."
+
+"It's only Bart," cried Deborah, casting a fierce look in the direction
+of the slim, sharp-faced young man, "and if he was to talk I'd take his
+tongue out. That I would. I'm a-training him to be my husband, as I
+don't hold with the ready-made article, and married he shall be, by
+parsing and clark if he's a good boy and don't talk of what don't matter
+to him."
+
+"I ain't goin' to chatter," said Bart, with a wink. "Lor' bless you,
+sir, I've seen gentlemen as noble as yourself pawning things down
+there"--he nodded again towards the floor--"ah, and ladies too, but--"
+
+"Hold your tongue," cried Deborah, pitching herself across the floor
+like a ship in distress. "Your a-talking now of what you ain't a right
+to be a-talkin' of, drat you. Come this way, Mr. Beecot, to the place
+where old Nick have his home, for that he is when seven strikes."
+
+"You shouldn't speak of your master in that way," protested Paul.
+
+"Oh, shouldn't I," snorted the maid, with a snort surprisingly loud.
+"And who have a better right, sir? I've been here twenty year as servant
+and nuss and friend and 'umble well-wisher to Miss Sylvia, coming a slip
+of a girl at ten, which makes me thirty, I don't deny; not that it's too
+old to marry Bart, though he's but twenty, and makes up in wickedness
+for twice that age. I know master, and when the sun's up there ain't a
+better man living, but turn on the gas and he's an old Nick. Bart,
+attend to your business and don't open them long ears of yours too wide.
+I won't have a listening husband, I can tell you. This way, sir. Mind
+the steps."
+
+By this time Deborah had convoyed Paul to a dark corner behind the
+counter and jerked back a trap door. Here he saw a flight of wooden
+steps which led downwards into darkness. But Miss Junk snatched up a
+lantern on the top step, and having lighted it dropped down, holding it
+above her red and touzelled head. Far below her voice was heard crying
+to Beecot to "Come on"; therefore he followed as quickly as he could,
+and soon found himself in the cellar. All around was dark, but Deborah
+lighted a couple of flaring gas-jets, and then turned, with her arms
+akimbo, on the visitor.
+
+"Now then, sir, you and me must have a talk, confidential like," said
+she in her breathless way. "It's pawning is it? By which I knows that
+you ain't brought that overbearing pa of yours to his knees."
+
+Paul sat down in a clumsy mahogany chair, which stood near a plain deal
+table, and stared at the handmaiden. "I never told you about my father,"
+he said, exhibiting surprise.
+
+"Oh, no, of course not"--Miss Junk tossed her head--"me being a babe an'
+a suckling, not fit to be told anything. But you told Miss Sylvia and
+she told me, as she tells everything to her Debby, God bless her for a
+pretty flower!" She pointed a coarse, red finger at Paul. "If you were a
+gay deceiver, Mr. Beecot, I'd trample on your corp this very minute if I
+was to die at Old Bailey for the doing of it."
+
+Seeing Deborah was breathless again, Paul seized his chance. "There is
+no reason you shouldn't know all about me, and--"
+
+"No, indeed, I should think not, begging your pardon, sir. But when you
+comes here six months back, I ses to Miss Sylvia, I ses, 'He's making
+eyes at you, my lily,' and she ses to me, she says, 'Oh, Debby, I love
+him, that I do.' And then I ses, ses I, 'My pretty, he looks a gent born
+and bred, but that's the wust kind, so we'll find out if he's a liar
+before you loses your dear heart to him.'"
+
+"But I'm not a liar--" began Paul, only to be cut short again.
+
+"As well I knows," burst out Miss Junk, her arms akimbo again. "Do you
+think, sir, as I'd ha' let you come loving my pretty one and me not
+knowing if you was Judas or Jezebel? Not me, if I never drank my nightly
+drop of beer again. What you told Miss Sylvia of your frantic pa and
+your loving ma she told me. Pumping _you_ may call it," shouted Deborah,
+emphasising again with the red finger, "but everything you told in your
+lover way she told her old silly Debby. I ses to Bart, if you loves me,
+Bart, go down to Wargrove, wherever it may be--if in England, which I
+doubt--and if he--meaning you--don't tell the truth, out he goes if I
+have the chucking of him myself and a police-court summings over it. So
+Bart goes to Wargrove, and he find out that you speaks true, which means
+that you're a gent, sir, if ever there was one, in spite of your frantic
+pa, so I hopes as you'll marry my flower, and make her happy--bless
+you," and Deborah spread a large pair of mottled arms over Paul's head.
+
+"It's all true," said he, good-naturedly; "my father and I don't get on
+well together, and I came to make a name in London. But for all you
+know, Deborah, I may be a scamp."
+
+"That you are not," she burst out. "Why, Bart's been follerin' you
+everywhere, and he and me, which is to be his lawful wife and master,
+knows all about you and that there place in Bloomsbury, and where you go
+and where you don't go. And let me tell you, sir," again she lifted her
+finger threateningly, "if you wasn't what you oughter be, never would
+you see my pretty one again. No, not if I had to wash the floor in your
+blue blood--for blue it is, if what Bart learned was true of them stone
+figgers in the church," and she gasped.
+
+Paul was silent for a few minutes, looking at the floor. He wondered
+that he had not guessed all this. Often it had seemed strange to him
+that so faithful and devoted a couple of retainers as Bart and Deborah
+Junk should favor his wooing of Sylvia and keep it from their master,
+seeing that they knew nothing about him. But from the woman's
+story--which he saw no reason to disbelieve--the two had not rested
+until they had been convinced of his respectability and of the truth of
+his story. Thus they had permitted the wooing to continue, and Paul
+privately applauded them for their tact in so making sure of him without
+committing themselves to open speech. "All the same," he said aloud, and
+following his own thoughts, "it's strange that you should wish her to
+marry me."
+
+Miss Junk made a queer answer. "I'm glad enough to see her marry anyone
+respectable, let alone a gent, as you truly are, with stone figgers in
+churches and a handsome face, though rather dark for my liking. Mr.
+Beecot, twenty year ago, a slip of ten, I come to nuss the baby as was
+my loving angel upstairs, and her ma had just passed away to jine them
+as lives overhead playing harps. All these years I've never heard a
+young step on them stairs, save Miss Sylvia's and Bart's, him having
+come five years ago, and a brat he was. And would you believe it, Mr.
+Beecot, I know no more of the old man than you do. He's queer, and he's
+wrong altogether, and that frightened of being alone in the dark as you
+could make him a corp with a turnip lantern."
+
+"What is he afraid of?"
+
+"Ah," said Deborah, significantly, "what indeed? It may be police and it
+may be ghosts, but, ghosts or police, he never ses what he oughter say
+if he's a respectable man, which I sadly fear he ain't."
+
+"He may have his reasons to--"
+
+Miss Junk tossed her head and snorted again loudly. "Oh, yes--he has his
+reasons," she admitted, "and Old Bailey ones they are, I dessay. But
+there's somethin' 'anging over his head. Don't ask me what it is, fur
+never shall you know, by reason of my being ignorant. But whatever it
+is, Mr. Beecot, it's something wicked, and shall I see my own pretty in
+trouble?"
+
+"How do you know there will be trouble?" interrupted Paul, anxiously.
+
+"I've heard him pray," said Miss Junk, mysteriously--"yes, you may look,
+for there ain't no prayer in the crafty eye of him--but pray he do, and
+asks to be kept from danger--"
+
+"Danger?"
+
+"Danger's the word, for I won't deceive you, no, not if you paid me
+better wages than the old man do give and he's as near as the paring of
+an inion. So I ses to Bart, if there's danger and trouble and Old
+Baileys about, the sooner Miss Sylvia have some dear man to give her a
+decent name and pertect her the more happy old Deborah will be. So I
+looked and looked for what you might call a fairy prince as I've heard
+tell of in pantomimes, and when you comes she loses her heart to you. So
+I ses, find out, Bart, what he is, and--"
+
+"Yes, yes, I see. Well, Deborah, you can depend upon my looking after
+your pretty mistress. If I were only reconciled with my father I would
+speak to Mr. Norman."
+
+"Don't, sir--don't!" cried the woman, fiercely, and making a clutch at
+Paul's arm; "he'll turn you out, he will, not being anxious fur anyone
+to have my flower, though love her as he oughter do, he don't, no,"
+cried Deborah, "nor her ma before her, who died with a starvin' 'eart.
+But you run away with my sweetest and make her your own, though her pa
+swears thunderbolts as you may say. Take her from this place of
+wickedness and police-courts." And Deborah looked round the cellar with
+a shudder. Suddenly she started and held up her finger, nodding towards
+a narrow door at the side of the cellar. "Master's footstep," she said
+in a harsh whisper. "I'd know it in a thousand--just like a thief's,
+ain't it?--stealing as you might say. Don't tell him you've seen me."
+
+"But Sylvia," cried Paul, catching her dress as she passed him.
+
+"Her you'll see, if I die for it," said Deborah, and whirled up the
+wooden steps in a silent manner surprising in so noisy a woman. Paul
+heard the trap-door drop with a stealthy creak.
+
+As a key grated in the lock of the outside door he glanced round the
+place to which he had penetrated for the first time. It was of the same
+size as the shop overhead, but the walls were of stone, green with slime
+and feathery with a kind of ghastly white fungus. Overhead, from the
+wooden roof, which formed the floor of the shop, hung innumerable
+spider's webs thick with dust. The floor was of large flags cracked in
+many places, and between the chinks in moist corners sprouted sparse,
+colorless grass. In the centre was a deal table, scored with queer marks
+and splotched with ink. Over this flared two gas-jets, which whistled
+shrilly. Against the wall, which was below the street, were three green
+painted safes fast locked: but the opposite wall had in it the narrow
+door aforesaid, and a wide grated window, the bars of which were rusty,
+though strong. The atmosphere of the place was cold and musty and
+suggestive of a charnel house. Certainly a strange place in which to
+transact business, but everything about Aaron Norman was strange.
+
+And he looked strange himself as he stepped in at the open door. Beyond,
+Paul could see the shallow flight of damp steps leading to the yard and
+the passage which gave admission from the street. Norman locked the door
+and came forward. He was as white as a sheet, and his face was thickly
+beaded with perspiration. His mouth twitched more than usual, and his
+hands moved nervously. Twice as he advanced towards Paul, who rose to
+receive him, did he cast the odd look over his shoulder. Beecot
+fancifully saw in him a man who had committed some crime and was fearful
+lest it should be discovered, or lest the avenger should suddenly
+appear. Deborah's confidential talk had not been without its effects on
+the young man, and Paul beheld in Aaron a being of mystery. How such a
+man came to have such a daughter as Sylvia, Paul could not guess.
+
+"Here you are, Mr. Beecot," said Aaron, rubbing his hands as though the
+cold of the cellar struck to his bones. "Well?"
+
+"I want to pawn a brooch," said Beecot, slipping his hand into his
+breast pocket.
+
+"Wait," said Norman, throwing up his lean hand. "Let me tell you that I
+have taken a fancy to you, and I have watched you all the many times you
+have been here. Didn't you guess?"
+
+"No," said Paul, wondering if he was about to speak of Sylvia, and
+concluding that he guessed what was in the wind.
+
+"Well then, I have," said the pawnbroker, "and I think it's a pity a
+young man should pawn anything. Have you no money?" he asked.
+
+Paul reddened. "Very little," he said.
+
+"Little as it may be, live on that and don't pawn," said Aaron. "I speak
+against my own interests, but I like you, and perhaps I can lend you a
+few shillings."
+
+"I take money from no one, thank you all the same," said Beecot,
+throwing back his head, "but if you can lend me something on this
+brooch," and he pulled out the case from his pocket. "A friend of mine
+would have bought it, but as it belongs to my mother I prefer to pawn it
+so that I may get it again when I am rich."
+
+"Well, well," said Aaron, abruptly, and resuming his downcast looks, "I
+shall do what I can. Let me see it."
+
+He stretched out his hand and took the case. Slowly opening it under the
+gas, he inspected its contents. Suddenly he gave a cry of alarm, and the
+case fell to the floor. "The Opal Serpent!--The Opal Serpent!" he cried,
+growing purple in the face, "keep off!--keep off!" He beat the air with
+his lean hands. "Oh--the Opal!" and he fell face downward on the slimy
+floor in a fit or a faint, but certainly unconscious.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+DULCINEA OF GWYNNE STREET
+
+
+Near the Temple Station of the Metropolitan Railway is a small garden
+which contains a certain number of fairly-sized trees, a round
+band-stand, and a few flower-beds intersected by asphalt paths. Here
+those who are engaged in various offices round about come to enjoy _rus
+in urbes_, to listen to the gay music, and, in many cases, to eat a
+scanty mid-day meal. Old women come to sun themselves, loafers sit on
+the seats to rest, workmen smoke and children play. On a bright day the
+place is pretty, and those who frequent it feel as though they were
+enjoying a country holiday though but a stone's throw from the Thames.
+And lovers meet here also, so it was quite in keeping that Paul Beecot
+should wait by the bronze statues of the Herculaneum wrestlers for the
+coming of Sylvia.
+
+On the previous day he had departed hastily, after committing the old
+man to Deborah's care. At first he had lingered to see Aaron revive, but
+when the unconscious man came to his senses and opened his eyes he
+fainted again when his gaze fell on Paul. Deborah, therefore, in her
+rough, practical way, suggested that as Beecot was "upsetting him" he
+had better go. It was in a state of perplexity that Paul had gone away,
+but he was cheered on his homeward way by a hasty assurance given by
+Miss Junk that Sylvia would meet him in the gardens, "near them niggers
+without clothes," said Deborah.
+
+It was strange that the sight of the brooch should have produced such an
+effect on Aaron, and his fainting confirmed Paul's suspicions that the
+old man had not a clean conscience. But what the serpent brooch had to
+do with the matter Beecot could not conjecture. It was certainly an odd
+piece of jewellery, and not particularly pretty, but that the merest
+glimpse of it should make Norman faint was puzzling in the extreme.
+
+"Apparently it is associated with something disagreeable in the man's
+mind," soliloquised Paul, pacing the pavement and keeping a sharp
+look-out for Sylvia, "perhaps with death, else the effect would scarcely
+have been so powerful as to produce a fainting fit. Yet Aaron can't know
+my mother. Hum! I wonder what it means."
+
+While he was trying to solve the mystery a light touch on his arm made
+him wheel round, and he beheld Sylvia smiling at him. While he was
+looking along the Embankment for her coming she had slipped down Norfolk
+Street and through the gardens, to where the wrestlers clutched at empty
+air. In her low voice, which was the sweetest of all sounds to Paul, she
+explained this, looking into his dark eyes meanwhile. "But I can't stay
+long," finished Sylvia. "My father is still ill, and he wants me to
+return and nurse him."
+
+"Has he explained why he fainted?" asked Paul, anxiously.
+
+"No; he refuses to speak on the matter. Why did he faint, Paul?"
+
+The young man looked puzzled. "Upon my word I don't know," he said.
+"Just as I was showing him a brooch I wished to pawn he went off."
+
+"What kind of a brooch?" asked the girl, also perplexed.
+
+Paul took the case out of his breast pocket, where it had been since the
+previous day. "My mother sent it to me," he explained; "you see she
+guesses that I am hard up, and, thanks to my father, she can't send me
+money. This piece of jewellery she has had for many years, but as it is
+rather old-fashioned she never wears it. So she sent it to me, hoping
+that I might get ten pounds or so on it. A friend of mine wished to buy
+it, but I was anxious to get it back again, so that I might return it to
+my mother. Therefore I thought your father might lend me money on it."
+
+Sylvia examined the brooch with great attention. It was evidently of
+Indian workmanship, delicately chased, and thickly set with jewels. The
+serpent, which was apparently wriggling across the stout gold pin of the
+brooch, had its broad back studded with opals, large in the centre of
+the body and small at head and tail. These were set round with tiny
+diamonds, and the head was of chased gold with a ruby tongue. Sylvia
+admired the workmanship and the jewels, and turned the brooch over. On
+the flat smooth gold underneath she found the initial "R" scratched with
+a pin. This she showed to Paul. "I expect your mother made this mark to
+identify the brooch," she said.
+
+"My mother's name is Anne," replied Paul, looking more puzzled than
+ever, "Anne Beecot. Why should she mark this with an initial which has
+nothing to do with her name?"
+
+"Perhaps it is a present," suggested Sylvia.
+
+Paul snapped the case to, and replaced it in his pocket. "Perhaps it
+is," he said. "However, when I next write to my mother I'll ask her
+where she got the brooch. She has had it for many years," he added
+musingly, "for I remember playing with it when a small boy."
+
+"Don't tell your mother that my father fainted."
+
+"Why not? Does it matter?"
+
+Sylvia folded her slender hands and looked straight in front of her.
+For some time they had been seated on a bench in a retired part of the
+gardens, and the laughter of playing children, the music of the band
+playing the merriest airs from the last musical comedy, came faintly to
+their ears. "I think it does matter," said the girl, seriously; "for
+some reason my father wants to keep himself as quiet as possible. He
+talks of going away."
+
+"Going away. Oh, Sylvia, and you never told me."
+
+"He only spoke of going away when I came to see how he was this
+morning," she replied. "I wonder if his fainting has anything to do with
+this determination. He never talked of going away before."
+
+Paul wondered also. It seemed strange that after so unusual an event the
+old man should turn restless and wish to leave a place where he had
+lived for over twenty years. "I'll come and have an explanation," said
+Paul, after a pause.
+
+"I think that will be best, dear. Father said that he would like to see
+you again, and told Bart to bring you in if he saw you."
+
+"I'll call to-day--this afternoon, and perhaps your father will explain.
+And now, Sylvia, that is enough about other people and other things. Let
+us talk of ourselves."
+
+Sylvia turned her face with a fond smile. She was a delicate and dainty
+little lady, with large grey eyes and soft brown hair. Her complexion
+was transparent, and she had little color in her cheeks. With her oval
+face, her thin nose and charming mouth she looked very pretty and sweet.
+But it was her expression that Paul loved. That was a trifle sad, but
+when she smiled her looks changed as an overcast sky changes when the
+sun bursts through the clouds. Her figure was perfect, her hands and
+feet showed marks of breeding, and although her grey dress was as
+demure as any worn by a Quakeress, she looked bright and merry in the
+sunshine of her lover's presence. Everything about Sylvia was dainty and
+neat and exquisitely clean: but she was hopelessly out of the fashion.
+It was this odd independence in her dress which constituted another
+charm in Paul's eyes.
+
+The place was too public to indulge in love-making, and it was very
+tantalising to sit near this vision of beauty without gaining the
+delight of a kiss. Paul feasted his eyes, and held Sylvia's grey-gloved
+hand under cover of her dress. Further he could not go.
+
+"But if you put up your sunshade," he suggested artfully.
+
+"Paul!" That was all Sylvia said, but it suggested a whole volume of
+rebuke. Brought up in seclusion, like the princess in an enchanted
+castle, the girl was exceedingly shy. Paul's ardent looks and eager
+wooing startled her at times, and he thought disconsolately that his
+chivalrous love-making was coarse and common when he gazed on the
+delicate, dainty, shrinking maid he adored.
+
+"You should not have stepped out of your missal, Sylvia," he said sadly.
+
+"Whatever do you mean, dearest?"
+
+"I mean that you are a saint--an angel--a thing to be adored and
+worshipped. You are exactly like one of those lovely creations one sees
+in mass-books of the Middle Ages. I fear, Sylvia," Paul sighed, "that
+you are too dainty and holy for this work-a-day world."
+
+"What nonsense, Paul! I'm a poor girl without position or friends,
+living in a poor street. You are the first person who ever thought me
+pretty."
+
+"You are not pretty," said the ardent Beecot, "you are divine--you are
+Beatrice--you are Elizabeth of Thuringia--you are everything that is
+lovely and adorable."
+
+"And you are a silly boy," replied Sylvia, blushing, but loving this
+poetic talk all the same. "Do you want to put me in a glass case when we
+marry? If you do, I sha'n't become Mrs. Beecot. I want to see the world
+and to enjoy myself."
+
+"Then other men will admire you and I shall grow jealous."
+
+"Can you be jealous--Paul?"
+
+"Horribly! You don't know half my bad qualities. I am poor and needy,
+and ambitious and jealous, and--"
+
+"There--there. I won't hear you run yourself down. You are the best boy
+in the world."
+
+"Poor world, if I am that," he laughed, and squeezed the little hand.
+"Oh, my love, do you really think of me?"
+
+"Always! Always! You know I do. Why, ever since I saw you enter the shop
+six months ago I have always loved you. I told Debby, and Debby said
+that I could."
+
+"Supposing Debby had said that you couldn't."
+
+"Oh, she would never have said that. Why, Paul, she saw you."
+
+The young man laughed and colored. "Do I carry my character in my face?"
+he asked. "Sylvia, don't think too well of me."
+
+"That is impossible," she declared. "You are my fairy prince."
+
+"Well, I certainly have found an enchanted princess sleeping in a
+jealously-guarded castle. What would your father say did he know?"
+
+Sylvia looked startled. "I am afraid of my father," she replied,
+indirectly. "Yes--he is so strange. Sometimes he seems to love me, and
+at other times to hate me. We have nothing in common. I love books and
+art, and gaiety and dresses. But father only cares for jewels. He has a
+lot down in the cellar. I have never seen them, you know," added Sylvia,
+looking at her lover, "nor have Deborah or Bart. But they are there.
+Bart and Deborah say so."
+
+"Has your father ever said so?"
+
+"No. He won't speak of his business in the cellar. When the shop is
+closed at seven he sends Bart away home and locks Deborah and I in the
+house. That is," she explained anxiously, lest Paul should think her
+father a tyrant, "he locks the door which leads to the shop. We can walk
+over all the house. But there we stop till next morning, when father
+unlocks the door at seven and Bart takes down the shutters. We have
+lived like that for years. On Sunday evenings, however, father does not
+go to the cellar, but takes me to church. He has supper with me
+upstairs, and then locks the door at ten."
+
+"But he sleeps upstairs?"
+
+"No. He sleeps in the cellar."
+
+"Impossible. There is no accommodation for sleeping there."
+
+Sylvia explained. "There is another cellar--a smaller one--off the large
+place he has the safes in. The door is in a dark corner almost under the
+street line. This smaller cellar is fitted up as a bedroom, and my
+father has slept there all his life. I suppose he is afraid of his
+jewels being stolen. I don't think it is good for his health," added the
+girl, wisely, "for often in the morning he looks ill and his hands
+shake."
+
+"Sylvia, does your father drink alcohol?"
+
+"Oh, no, Paul! He is a teetotaller, and is very angry at those who drink
+to excess. Why, once Bart came to the shop a little drunk, and father
+would have discharged him but for Deborah."
+
+Paul said nothing, but thought the more. Often it had struck him that
+Norman was a drunkard, though his face showed no signs of indulgence,
+for it always preserved its paleness. But the man's hands shook, and his
+skin often was drawn and tight, with that shiny look suggestive of
+indulgence. "He either drinks or smokes opium," thought Paul on hearing
+Sylvia's denial. But he said nothing to her of this.
+
+"I must go home now," she said, rising.
+
+"Oh, no, not yet," he implored.
+
+"Well, then, I'll stay for a few minutes longer, because I have
+something to say," she remarked, and sat down again. "Paul, do you think
+it is quite honorable for you and I to be engaged without the consent of
+my father?"
+
+"Well," hesitated Beecot, "I don't think it is as it should be. Were I
+well off I should not fear to tell your father everything; but as I am a
+pauper he would forbid my seeing you did he learn that I had raised my
+eyes to you. But if you like I'll speak, though it may mean our parting
+for ever."
+
+"Paul," she laid a firm, small hand on his arm, "not all the fathers in
+the world will keep me from you. Often I have intended to tell all, but
+my father is so strange. Sometimes he goes whole days without speaking
+to me, and at times he speaks harshly, though I do nothing to deserve
+rebuke. I am afraid of my father," said the girl, with a shiver. "I said
+so before, and I say so again. He is a strange man, and I don't
+understand him at all. I wish I could marry you and go away altogether."
+
+"Well, let us marry if you like, though we will be poor."
+
+"No," said Sylvia, sorrowfully; "after all, strange and harsh though my
+father is, he is still my father, and at times he is kind. I must stay
+with him to the end."
+
+"What end?"
+
+Sylvia shook her head still more sorrowfully. "Who knows? Paul, my
+father is afraid of dying suddenly."
+
+"By violence?" asked Beecot, thinking of Deborah's talk.
+
+"I can't say. But every day after six he goes to church and prays all
+alone. Deborah told me, as often she has seen him leave the church. Then
+he is afraid of every stranger who enters the shop. I don't understand
+it," cried the girl, passionately. "I don't like it. I wish you would
+marry me and take me away, Paul; but, oh, how selfish I am!"
+
+"My own, I wish I could. But the money--"
+
+"Oh, never mind the money. I must get away from that house. If it was
+not for Deborah I would be still more afraid. I often think my father is
+mad. But there," Sylvia rose and shook out her skirts, "I have no right
+to talk so, and only do so to you, that you may know what I feel. I'll
+speak to my father myself and say we are engaged. If he forbids our
+marriage I shall run away with you, Paul," said poor Sylvia, the tears
+in her eyes. "I am a bad girl to talk in this way. After all, he is my
+father."
+
+Beecot had an ardent desire to take her in his arms and kiss away those
+tears, but the publicity of the meeting-place denied him the power to
+console her in that efficacious fashion. All he could do was to assure
+her of his love, and then they walked out of the gardens towards the
+Strand. "I'll speak to your father myself," said Paul; "we must end this
+necessary silence. After all, I am a gentleman, and I see no reason why
+your father should object."
+
+"I know you are everything that is good and true," said Sylvia, drying
+her eyes. "If you were not Debby would not have let me become engaged to
+you," she finished childishly.
+
+"Debby made inquiries about me," said Paul, laughing, to cheer her.
+"Yes! she sent Bart to Wargrove and found out all about me and my
+family and my respected father. She wished to be certain that I was a
+proper lover for her darling."
+
+"I am your darling now," whispered Sylvia, squeezing his arm, "and you
+are the most charming lover in the world."
+
+Paul was so enchanted with this speech that he would have defied public
+opinion by embracing her there and then, but Sylvia walked away rapidly
+down Gwynne Street and shook her head with a pursed-up mouth when Paul
+took a few steps after her. Recognizing that it would be wise not to
+follow her to the shop lest the suspicious old man should be looking
+out, Beecot went on his homeward way.
+
+When he drew near his Bloomsbury garret he met Grexon Hay, who was
+sauntering along swinging his cane. "I was just looking for you," he
+said, greeting Paul in his usual self-contained manner; "it worries me
+to think you are so hard-up, though I'm not a fellow given to sentiment
+as a rule. Let me lend you a fiver."
+
+Paul shook his head. "Thank you all the same."
+
+"Well, then, sell me the brooch."
+
+Beecot suddenly looked squarely at Hay, who met his gaze calmly. "Do you
+know anything of that brooch?" he asked.
+
+"What do you mean? It is a brooch of Indian workmanship. That is all I
+know. I want to give a lady a present, and if you will sell it to me
+I'll take it, to help you, thus killing two birds at one shot."
+
+"I don't want to sell it," said Paul, looking round. His eyes fell on a
+respectable man across the road, who appeared to be a workman, as he had
+a bag of tools on his shoulder. He was looking into a shop window, but
+also--as Paul suddenly thought--seemed to be observing him and Hay.
+However, the incident was not worth noticing, so he continued his
+speech to Grexon. "I tried to pawn it with Aaron Norman," he said.
+
+"Well, what did you get on it?" asked Hay, with a yawn.
+
+"Nothing. The old man fainted when I showed him the brooch. That is why
+I asked you if you know anything strange about the article."
+
+Hay shook his head, but looked curiously at Beecot. "Do you know
+anything yourself?" he asked; "you seem to have something on your mind
+about that brooch."
+
+"There is something queer about it," said Paul. "Why should Aaron Norman
+faint when he saw it?"
+
+Hay yawned again. "You had better ask your one-eyed friend--I think you
+said he was one-eyed."
+
+"He is, and a frightened sort of man. But there's nothing about that
+opal serpent to make him faint."
+
+"Perhaps he did so because it is in the shape of a serpent," suggested
+Grexon; "a constitutional failing, perhaps. Some people hate cats and
+other fluttering birds. Your one-eyed friend may have a loathing of
+snakes and can't bear to see the representation of one."
+
+"It might be that," said Beecot, after a pause. "Aaron is a strange sort
+of chap. A man with a past, I should say."
+
+"You make me curious," said Grexon, laughing in a bored manner. "I think
+I'll go to the shop myself and have a look at him."
+
+"Come with me when I next go," said Paul. "I had intended to call this
+afternoon; but I won't, until I hear from my mother."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"I want to learn how she came into possession of the brooch."
+
+"Pooh, nonsense," said Hay, contemptuously, "you think too much about
+the thing. Who cares if a pawnbroker faints? Why I wish to go to the
+shop, is, because I am anxious to see your lady-love. Well, when you do
+want me to go, send for me; you have my address. 'Day, old man," and the
+gorgeous being sauntered away, with apparently not a care in the world
+to render him anxious.
+
+Paul was anxious, however. The more he thought of the episode of the
+brooch the stranger it seemed, and Sylvia's talk of her father's queer
+habits did not make Paul wonder the less. However, he resolved to write
+to his mother, and was just mounting his stairs to do so when he heard a
+"Beg pardon, sir," and beheld the working man, bag of tools, pipe and
+all.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, civilly, "but that gentleman you was
+a-talking to. Know his name, sir?"
+
+"What the devil's that to you?" asked Paul, angrily.
+
+"Nothing, sir, only he owes me a little bill."
+
+"Go and ask him for it then."
+
+"I don't know his address, sir."
+
+"Oh, be hanged!" Paul went on, when the man spoke again.
+
+"He's what I call a man on the market, sir. Have a care," and he
+departed quickly.
+
+Paul stared. What did the working man mean, and was he a working man?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE UNFORESEEN
+
+
+Paul did not go near the Gwynne Street shop for the next few days, much
+as he wanted to do so. Being deeply in love he could hardly bear to be
+away from Sylvia even for a few hours: but in spite of this he remained
+away for two reasons. The first of these was that he awaited a reply to
+his letter written to Mrs. Beecot, as he wished to be able to tell Aaron
+Norman where the brooch had been obtained. He thought by doing this to
+ingratiate himself with the old man, and perhaps, if thus confidential,
+might learn, for the satisfaction of his curiosity, why the sight of the
+brooch had produced such an effect on the pawnbroker.
+
+The other reason was that, not having been able to sell the brooch, or
+rather pawn it since he did not wish to lose it altogether, funds were
+running low, and now he had but a few shillings left. A call at the
+office of a penny weekly had resulted in the return of three stories as
+being too long and not the sort required. But the editor, in a hasty
+interview, admitted that he liked Paul's work and would give him three
+pounds for a tale written on certain lines likely to be popular with the
+public. Paul did not care to set forth another person's ideas,
+especially as these were old and very sensational; but as he required
+money he set to work and labored to produce what would bring him in the
+cash. He made several attempts before he reached the editor's level,
+which was low rather than high, and succeeded in getting the tale
+accepted. With three golden pounds in his pocket and exultation in his
+heart--for every success seemed to bring him nearer to Sylvia--Paul
+returned to his aerial castle and found waiting for him the expected
+letter.
+
+It was written in a low-spirited sort of way, characteristic of Mrs.
+Beecot, but with a true motherly heart. After two pages of lamentation
+over his absence, and a description of how the head of the household
+managed to bear up against the affliction of his son's absence, Mrs.
+Beecot proceeded to explain about the brooch.
+
+"Why do you ask me about the opal brooch, my dear boy?" wrote Mrs.
+Beecot in her scratchy handwriting. "All I know is that your father
+bought it out of a pawnbroker's shop in Stowley, which is some town in
+the Midlands. Your father was travelling there and saw the brooch by
+chance. As I always thought opals unlucky he was anxious to make me see
+the folly of such a superstition, so he bought the brooch and took it
+away with him. Afterwards, I believe, he received a letter from the
+pawnbroker, saying that his assistant had sold the brooch by mistake,
+that the time for redeeming it had not run out when your father bought
+it. The pawnbroker asked that the brooch might be returned, and wanted
+to pay back the money. But you know what your father is. He refused at
+once to give back the brooch, and insisted on my wearing it. I had a bad
+fall while wearing it, and then was thrown out of that high dog-cart
+your father would insist on driving. I am sure the brooch or the stones
+is unlucky, and, as after a time your father forgot all about it, I let
+it lie in my jewel-case. For years I had not worn it, and as I think it
+is unlucky, and as you need money, my darling boy, I hope you will sell
+it. There is no need to pawn it as you say. I never want to see the
+brooch again. But regarding your health, etc., etc."
+
+So Mrs. Beecot wrote in her verbose style, and with some errors of
+grammar. Paul saw in her simple tale fresh evidence of his father's
+tyranny, since he made his wife wear gems she detested and was
+superstitiously set against possessing them. The dog-cart episode Paul
+remembered very well. Mr. Beecot, in his amiable way, had no patience
+with his wife's nerves, and never lost an opportunity of placing her in
+unpleasant positions, whereby she might be, what he called, hardened.
+Paul sighed to think of his mother's position as he folded up the
+letter. She had a bad time with the truculent husband she had married.
+"And I can't believe she became his wife of her own free will," thought
+Paul; "probably the governor bullied her into it in his own sweet way."
+
+However, there was nothing in the letter to explain Norman's faint. It
+was certainly strange that the pawnbroker, from whom the brooch had been
+originally purchased, should have demanded it back; and the excuse given
+seems rather a weak one. However, Paul did not waste time in thinking
+over this, but resolved to tell Aaron what his mother had said.
+
+He had received two letters from Sylvia, mentioning, amongst other
+things, that her father, now quite well, was asking after Paul, and
+urging him to come and see him. "My father appears to have a fancy for
+you," wrote Sylvia, "so if you are very nice--as nice as you can
+be--perhaps he won't be very angry if you tell him we are engaged."
+There was much more to the same effect, which Paul thought good advice,
+and he intended to adopt the same. It was necessary that he should tell
+Aaron of his love if things were to be conducted in a straightforward
+and honorable manner. And Paul had no desire to conduct them otherwise.
+
+Having made up his mind to see Aaron again, Paul bethought himself of
+Grexon Hay. That gentleman had never appeared again at the Bloomsbury
+garret, and had never even written. But Paul was anxious that Hay--whom
+he regarded as a clever man-of-the-world--should see the old man, and,
+as our trans-Atlantic cousins say, "size him up." Norman's manner and
+queer life puzzled Paul not a little, and not being very worldly himself
+he was anxious to have the advice of his old school friend, who seemed
+desirous of doing him a good turn, witness his desire to buy the brooch
+so that Paul might be supplied with money. So Beecot wrote to Grexon Hay
+at his Camden Hill chamber and told him he intended to go to Gwynne
+Street on a certain day at a certain time. To this Grexon responded by
+saying that he was at Paul's service and would come especially as he
+wanted to see Dulcinea of Gwynne Street.
+
+Paul laughed at the phrase. "I suppose Grexon thinks I am very
+Quixotic," he thought, "coming to London to tilt with the windmills of
+the Press. But Don Quixote was wise in spite of his apparent madness,
+and Grexon will recognize my wisdom when he sees my Dulcinea, bless her!
+Humph! I wonder if Hay could pacify my father and make him look more
+kindly on my ambitions. Grexon is a clever fellow, a thoroughly good
+chap, so--"
+
+Here Paul paused to think. The incident of the working man and the
+warning he had given about Hay recurred to his mind. Also the phrase
+"Man on the Market" stuck in his memory. Why should Grexon Hay be called
+so, and what did the phrase mean? Paul had never heard it before.
+Moreover, from certain indications Beecot did not think that the
+individual with the bag of tools was a working man. He rather appeared
+to be a person got up to play the part. The fellow watching them both
+and accosting Paul alone certainly seemed a doubtful character. Beecot
+regretted that he had been so short with the man, else he might have
+learned why he had acted in this way. The story of the little bill was
+absurd, for if Grexon owed the man money the man himself would certainly
+have known the name and address of his creditor. Altogether, the
+incident puzzled Paul almost as much as that of Aaron's fainting, and he
+resolved to question Grexon. But it never crossed his mind that Hay was
+anything else but what he appeared to be--a man-about-town with a
+sufficient income to live upon comfortably. Had Paul doubted he would
+never have asked Grexon to go with him to Gwynne Street. However, he had
+done so, and the appointment was made, so there was no more to be said.
+
+The man-about-town duly made his appearance to the very minute. "I
+always keep appointments," he explained when Paul congratulated him on
+his punctuality; "there's nothing annoys me so much as to be kept
+waiting, so I invariably practise what I preach. Well, Paul, and how is
+Dulcinea of Gwynne Street?"
+
+"She is very well," replied Paul, who was still a young enough lover to
+blush, "but I have not seen her since we last met. I waited for a letter
+from my mother about the brooch, so that I might explain to Aaron how
+she got it. The old man has been asking after me."
+
+"Oh, confound the brooch!" said Grexon in his cool manner. "I don't want
+to hear about it. Let us talk of Dulcinea."
+
+"Rather let us talk of yourself," said Paul.
+
+"Not an interesting subject," replied Hay, rising as Paul opened his
+garret door for departure, "you know all about me."
+
+"No! I don't know why you are called a man-on-the-market."
+
+Hay flushed and turned sharply. "What do you mean?" he asked in a
+particularly quiet tone.
+
+"I don't know what I _do_ mean," said Paul. "Do you remember that
+working man with the bag of tools who was across the road when we last
+conversed?"
+
+"No," said Hay, staring, "I never notice creatures of that class. Why?"
+
+"Because he asked me who you were and where you lived. It seems you owe
+him some money."
+
+"That is very probable," said Hay, equably. "I owe most people money,
+and if this man has a debt against me he would certainly know all about
+me as to address and name."
+
+"So I thought," replied Paul, "but the queer thing is that he told me to
+take care, and called you a man-on-the-market. What does it mean? I
+never heard the phrase before."
+
+"I have," said Hay, proceeding calmly down the somewhat steep stairs; "a
+man-on-the-market means one who wants to marry and is eligible for any
+heiress who comes along with a sufficient rent-roll. But why should a
+fellow like that talk the shibboleth of Society?"
+
+Paul shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say. Perhaps the man guessed I
+intended to take you to see Sylvia, and warned me against you, as it
+seems from his phrase that you wish to marry."
+
+"Ah! Then your Dulcinea is an heiress?" said Hay, fixing his eye-glass
+carefully; "if so, you needn't fear me. I am almost engaged and won't be
+on the market any longer. What confounded cheek this fellow addressing
+you in that way and talking of me as he did. I suppose," he added with
+a cold laugh, "it is not necessary for me to defend myself."
+
+"What rubbish," replied Beecot, good-naturedly. "All the same, it is
+strange the man should have spoken to me as he did. I told him to go to
+the devil."
+
+"And go to the devil he assuredly will if I meet him," was the dry
+reply. "I'll break his head for not minding his own business. I think I
+can explain, and will do so as soon as you take that telegram the lad is
+holding out for you."
+
+Grexon was quicker-sighted than Paul, for the moment they arrived at the
+bottom of the stairs and were about to emerge into the street he saw the
+messenger. "Do you know if any gent of that name lives here, guvnor?"
+asked the boy, holding out the buff-colored envelope.
+
+Beecot, to his surprise, saw his own name. "Who can be wiring to me?" he
+said, taking the telegram. "Wait, boy, there may be an answer," and he
+skimmed through the lines. "Don't sell the brooch, but send it back,"
+read Paul, puzzled, "your father angry.--MOTHER." He paused, and looked
+at the boy. "Got a form?" he asked.
+
+The lad produced one and a stumpy pencil. With these materials Beecot
+wrote a reply saying the brooch would be returned on the morrow. When
+the boy went away with the answer Paul felt in his breast pocket and
+took out the old blue case. "I've a good mind to send it now," he said
+aloud.
+
+"What's that?" asked Hay, who was yawning at the door. "No bad news I
+hope?"
+
+"It's about that brooch again."
+
+Hay laughed. "Upon my word it seems to you what the Monster was to
+Frankenstein," said he. "Send it back--to Mrs. Beecot, I presume--and
+have done with it." He cast a glance at the case. "I see you have it
+with you," he ended, lightly.
+
+"Yes," said Paul, and replacing the case in his pocket went down the
+street with his friend. Then he determined to ask his opinion, and
+related the gist of Mrs. Beecot's letter. "And now the mater wires to
+have it back," he said. "I expect my father has found out that she has
+sent it to me, and is furious."
+
+"Well, send it back and have done with it," said Hay, impatiently; "you
+are in danger of becoming a bore with that brooch, Beecot. I'll lend you
+money if you like."
+
+"No, thanks, I have three pounds honestly earned. However, we'll speak
+no more of the brooch. I'll send it back this very day. Tell me," he
+linked his arm within that of his friend, "tell me of that man."
+
+"That man--of the working creature," said Hay, absently. "Pooh, the man
+was no more a working man than I am."
+
+"Well, I thought myself he was a bit of a fraud."
+
+"Detectives never do make up well," said Grexon, calmly.
+
+Paul stopped as they turned into Oxford Street. "What? Was the man a
+detective?"
+
+"I think so, from your description of his conversation. The fact is I'm
+in love with a lady who is married. We have behaved quite well, and no
+one can say a word against us. But her husband is a beast and wants a
+divorce. I have suspected for some time that he is having me
+watched. Thanks to you, Paul, I am now sure. So perhaps you will
+understand why the man warned you against me and talked of my being a
+man-on-the-market."
+
+"I see," said Paul, hesitating; "but don't get into trouble, Hay."
+
+"Oh, I'm all right. And I don't intend to do anything dishonorable, if
+that is what you mean. It's the husband's fault, not mine. By the way,
+can you describe the fellow?"
+
+"Yes. He had red hair and a red beard--rather a ruddy face, and walked
+with a limp."
+
+"All put on," said Hay, contemptuously; "probably the limp was affected,
+the beard false, the hair a wig, and the face rouged--very clumsy
+indeed. I daresay he'll appear pale and gentlemanly the next time he
+watches me. I know the tricks of these fellows."
+
+The two friends talked for some time about this episode, and then
+branched off into other subjects. Hay described the married lady he
+adored, and Paul rebuked him for entertaining such a passion. "It's not
+right, Hay," said he, positively; "you can't respect a woman who runs
+away from her husband."
+
+"She hasn't run away yet, Sir Galahad," laughed Grexon. "By Jove, you
+are an innocent!"
+
+"If that means respecting the institution of marriage and adoring women
+as angels I hope I'll remain an innocent."
+
+"Oh, women are angels, of course," said Hay as they walked down Gwynne
+Street; "it's a stock phrase in love-making. But there are angels of two
+sorts. Dulcinea is--"
+
+"Here we are," interrupted Paul, quickly. Somehow it irritated him to
+hear this hardened sinner speak of Sylvia, and he began to think that
+Grexon Hay had deteriorated. Not that he was considered to be
+particularly good at Torrington school. In fact, Paul remembered that he
+had been thoroughly disliked. However, he had no time to go into the
+matter, for at this moment Aaron appeared at the door of the shop. He
+stepped out on to the pavement as Paul approached. "Come in," he said,
+"I want to see you--privately," he added, casting a frightened look at
+Hay.
+
+"In that case I'll leave you," said Grexon, disengaging his arm from
+Paul. "Dulcinea must wait for another occasion. Go in and do your
+business. I'll wait without."
+
+Paul thanked his friend by a look and went into the shop with the old
+man. "That brooch," said Aaron, in a timid whisper, "have you got it?
+Give it to me--quick--quick."
+
+There was no one in the shop as Bart had apparently gone out on an
+errand. The door leading to the stairs, down which Sylvia had so often
+descended, was closed, and no one was about to overhear their
+conversation. "I have the brooch," said Paul, "but--"
+
+"Give it to me--give it," panted Aaron. "I'll buy it--at a large price.
+Ask what you want."
+
+"Why are you so eager to get it?" demanded Beecot, astonished.
+
+"That's my business," said Norman, in a suddenly imperious manner. "I
+want it. The stones take my fancy," he ended weakly.
+
+"Was that why you fainted?" asked Paul, suspiciously.
+
+"No." The man grew white and leaned against the counter, breathing
+heavily. "Where did you get the brooch?" he asked, trying to keep
+himself calm, but with a visible effort.
+
+"I got it from my mother, and she received it from my father--"
+
+"Beecot--Beecot," said the old man, fingering his lips, much agitated.
+"I know no one of that name save yourself, and you are not a spy--a
+scoundrel--a--a--" He caught the eyes of Paul fixed on him in amazement,
+and suddenly changed his tone. "Excuse me, but the brooch reminds me of
+trouble."
+
+"You have seen it before?"
+
+"Yes--that is no--don't ask me." He clutched at his throat as though he
+felt choked. "I can't talk of it. I daren't. How did your father get
+it?"
+
+More and more astonished, Paul explained. Aaron listened with his one
+eye very bright, and made uneasy motions with his lean hands as the
+young man spoke. When Beecot ended he bit his nails. "Yes, yes," he
+murmured to himself, "it would be asked for back. But it sha'n't go
+back. I want it. Sell it to me, Mr. Beecot."
+
+"I'm sorry I can't," replied Paul, good-naturedly. "But my mother wired
+that it was to be returned. My father has discovered that she sent it to
+me and is not pleased."
+
+"Did you tell your mother you had shown it to me?"
+
+"No. There was no need."
+
+"God bless you!" breathed the man, pulling out a crimson handkerchief.
+"Of course there was no need," he tittered nervously. "It doesn't do to
+talk of pawning things--not respectable, eh--eh." He wiped his face and
+passed his tongue over his white lips. "Well, you won't sell it to me?"
+
+"I can't. But I'll ask my mother if she will."
+
+"No, no! Don't do that--say nothing--say nothing. I don't want the
+brooch. I never saw the brooch--what brooch--pooh--pooh, don't talk to
+me of the brooch," and so he babbled on.
+
+"Mr. Norman," said Beecot, gravely, "what is the story connected with
+the brooch?"
+
+Aaron flung up his hands and backed towards the counter. "No, no. Don't
+ask me. What do you mean? I know no story of a brooch--what brooch--I
+never saw one--I never--ah"--he broke off in relief as two pale-faced,
+spectacled girls entered the shop--"customers. What is it, ladies? How
+can I serve you?" And he bustled away behind the counter, giving all his
+attention to the customers, yet not without a sidelong look in the
+direction of the perplexed Paul.
+
+That young gentleman, finding it impossible to get further speech with
+Aaron, and suspecting from his manner that all was not right, left the
+shop. He determined to take the brooch to Wargrove himself, and to ask
+his mother about it. Then he could learn why she wanted it back--if not
+from her, then from his father. This knowledge might explain the
+mystery.
+
+"Did you sell the brooch?" asked Grexon as they walked up Gwynne Street.
+
+"No. I have to send it back to my mother, and--"
+
+"Hold on!" cried Hay, stumbling. "Orange-peel--ah--"
+
+His stumble knocked Paul into the middle of the road. A motor car was
+coming down swiftly. Before Hay could realize what had taken place Paul
+was under the wheels of the machine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+TROUBLE
+
+
+"Oh, Debby," wept Sylvia, "he will die--he will die."
+
+"Not he, my precious pet," said the handmaiden, fondling the girl's soft
+hands within her own hard ones. "Them sort of young men have as many
+lives as tom cats. Bless you, my flower, he'll be up and ready, waiting
+at the altar, before the fashions change--and that's quick enough,"
+added Deborah, rubbing her snub nose. "For they're allays an-altering
+and a-turning and a-changing of 'em."
+
+The two were in the sitting-room over the bookshop. It was a
+low-ceilinged apartment, long and narrow, with windows back and front,
+as it extended the whole depth of the house. The back windows looked out
+on the dingy little yard, but these Norman had filled in with stained
+glass of a dark color, so that no one could see clearly out of them. Why
+he had done so was a mystery to Sylvia, though Deborah suspected the old
+man did not want anyone to see the many people who came to the back
+steps after seven. From the front windows could be seen the street and
+the opposite houses, and on the sills of the windows Sylvia cultivated a
+few cheap flowers, which were her delight. The room was furnished with
+all manner of odds and ends, flotsam and jetsam of innumerable sales
+attended by Aaron. There were Japanese screens, Empire sofas, mahogany
+chairs, Persian praying mats, Louis Quatorz tables, Arabic tiles,
+Worcester china, an antique piano that might have come out of the ark,
+and many other things of epochs which had passed away. Sylvia herself
+bloomed like a fair flower amidst this wreckage of former times.
+
+But the flower drooped at this moment and seemed in danger of dying for
+lack of sunshine. That, indeed, had been taken away by the removal of
+the young lover. Bart, who had witnessed the accident, returned hastily
+to tell Sylvia, and so great had the shock of the dreadful news been,
+that she had fainted, whereupon the foolish shopman had been severely
+dealt with by Deborah. When Sylvia recovered, however, she insisted upon
+seeing Bart again, and then learned that Paul had been taken to Charing
+Cross Hospital.
+
+"They drawed him from under the wheels, miss, as white as a vellum
+binding as ain't bin used. That gent as he was a-walking arm-in-arm
+with, slipped and knocked Mr. Beecot spinning under the steam engine."
+So did Bart describe the latest triumph of civilisation. "He was that
+sorry, in a cold-blooded way, as I never saw. He helped to git Mr.
+Beecot into a cab and druve off. Then I come to tell you."
+
+"And a nice way you've told it," grunted Deborah, driving him to the
+door. "Get back to the shop, you threadpaper of a man. My husband shall
+never be such a fool. The engagement's off."
+
+"Oh, Debby!" whimpered Bart, who, strange to say, was fondly attached to
+the stout servant. But that may have been habit.
+
+"Get along with you," she said, and banged the door in his face. "And
+don't tell master," she bawled after him, "else he'll be fainting again,
+drat him for a lily-livered duck!"
+
+So Aaron never knew that the man who possessed the brooch had been run
+over by a motor or was in the hospital. Sylvia and Deborah both tried
+to look as cheerful as possible, and schemed how to see the lover who
+had thus been laid low. Deborah boldly announced that she was taking
+Sylvia to buy her a new dress--that is, to choose it, for the cost was
+to be paid out of the servant's wages--and went with her one afternoon
+to the hospital. They heard that Paul's arm was broken, and that he had
+been slightly hurt about the head. But there was no danger of his dying,
+and although they were not allowed to see him the two women returned
+greatly cheered. But Sylvia frequently gave way to low spirits, thinking
+that at any moment the good symptoms might give way to bad ones. Deborah
+always cheered her, and went daily to get news. Always she returned to
+say, "He's a-goin' on nicely, and has that color as he might be a
+sunset." So Sylvia was bright until her next fit of low spirits came.
+
+Meanwhile, their attention was taken up by the odd behavior of Aaron.
+The old man suddenly announced that he was about to sell the shop and
+retire, and displayed a feverish haste in getting rid of his stock, even
+at a low price. Whether he sold the jewels so cheap as the books no one
+ever knew; but certainly the pundit caste did well out of the sale.
+Within the week the shop below was denuded, and there were nothing but
+bare shelves, much to the disgust of Bart, who, like Othello, found his
+occupation gone. The next day the furniture was to be sold, and when
+Deborah was comforting Sylvia at the week's end the fiat had already
+gone forth. Whither he intended to transfer his household the old man
+did not say, and this, in particular, was the cause of Sylvia's grief.
+She dreaded lest she should see her lover no more. This she said to
+Deborah.
+
+"See him you shall, and this very day," cried the maiden, cheerfully.
+"Why, there's that dress. I can't make up my mind whether to have
+magenter or liliac, both being suited to my complexion. Not that it's
+cream of the valley smother in rosebuds as yours is, my angel, but a
+dress I must have, and your pa can't deny my taking you to choose."
+
+"But, Debby, it seems wrong to deceive father in this way."
+
+"It do," admitted Debby, "and it is. We'll speak this very night--you
+and me in duets, as you might say, my pretty. He sha'n't say as we've
+gone to hide behind a hedge."
+
+"But we have, Debby, for six months," said Sylvia.
+
+"Because I'm a hardened and bold creature," said Deborah, fiercely, "so
+don't say it's you as held your tongue, for that you didn't, my
+honeycomb. Many and many a time have you said to me, ses you, 'Oh, do
+tell my par,' and many a time have I said to you, ses I, 'No, my
+precious, not for Joseph,' whoever he may be, drat him!"
+
+"Now, Debby, you're taking all the blame on yourself!"
+
+"And who have the broader shoulders, you or me, my flower?" asked Debby,
+fondly. "I'm as wicked as Bart, and that's saying much, for the way he
+bolts his food is dreadful to think of. Never will I have a corkidile
+for a husband. But here," cried Deborah, beginning to bustle, "it's the
+dress I'm thinking of. Magenter or lilacs in full boom. What do you
+think, my honey-pot?"
+
+So the end of Deborah's shameless diplomacy was, that the two went, not
+to the inferior draper's where Debby bought her extraordinary
+garments--though they went there later in a Jesuitical manner--but to
+the hospital, where to her joy Sylvia was allowed to see Paul. He looked
+thin and pale, but was quite himself and very cheerful. "My darling," he
+said, kissing Sylvia's hand, while Debby sat bolt upright near the bed,
+with a large handbag, and played propriety by glaring. "Now I shall get
+well quickly. The sight of you is better than all medicine."
+
+"I should think so," sniffed Debby, graciously. "Where's your orchards,
+with sich a color."
+
+"You mean orchids, Debby," laughed Sylvia, who blushed a rosy red.
+
+"It's them things with lady slippers a size too large for your foot I'm
+a-thinking of, pet, and small it is enough for glarse boots as the fairy
+story do tell. But I'm a-taking up the precious time of billing and
+cooing, so I'll shut my mouth and my ears while you let loose your
+affections, my sweet ones, if you'll excuse the liberty, sir, me being
+as fond of my lovey there as you is your own self."
+
+"No, I can't admit that," said Paul, kissing Sylvia's hand again and
+holding it while he talked. "Darling, how good of you to come and see
+me."
+
+"It may be for the last time, Paul," said Sylvia, trying to keep back
+her tears, "but you'll give me your address, and I'll write."
+
+"Oh, Sylvia, what is it?"
+
+"My father has sold the books and is selling the house. We are going
+away. Where to I don't know."
+
+"Tumbucktook would suit him," snapped Debby, suddenly; "he's trying to
+get into some rabbit-hole. Why, I don't know."
+
+"I do," said Paul, lying back thoughtfully. He guessed that Aaron was
+moving because of the brooch, though why he should do so was a mystery.
+"Sylvia," he asked, "did your father see my accident?"
+
+"No, Paul. He was busy in the shop. Bart saw it, but Debby said he
+wasn't to tell father."
+
+"Because of the fainting," explained Debby; "the man ain't strong,
+though Sampson he may think himself--ah, and Goliath, too, for all I
+care. But why ask, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+Paul did not reply to her, but asked Sylvia another question. "Do you
+remember that opal brooch I showed you?"
+
+"The serpent. Yes?"
+
+"Well, it's lost."
+
+"Lost, Paul?"
+
+The young man nodded mournfully. "I'm very vexed about it," he said in a
+low tone; "my mother wanted it back. I was going to send it that very
+day, but when I met with the accident it got lost somehow. It wasn't in
+my pocket when my clothes were examined, though I asked for it as soon
+as I became conscious. My friend also couldn't tell me."
+
+"Him as caused the smashes," said Deborah, with several sniffs. "A nice
+pretty friend, I do say, sir."
+
+"It wasn't his fault, Deborah. Mr. Hay stumbled on a piece of orange
+peel and jostled against me. I was taken by surprise, and fell into the
+middle of the road just as the motor came along. Mr. Hay was more than
+sorry and has come to see me every day with books and fruit and all
+manner of things."
+
+"The least he could do," snapped the servant, "knocking folks into
+orspitals with his fine gent airs. I sawr him out of the winder while
+you was in the shop, and there he spoke law-de-daw to a brat of a boy as
+ought to be in gaol, seeing he smoked a cigar stump an' him but a
+ten-year-old guttersnipe. Ses I, oh, a painted maypole you is, I ses,
+with a face as hard as bath bricks. A bad un you are, ses I."
+
+"No, Deborah, you are wrong. Mr. Hay is my friend."
+
+"Never shall he be my pretty's friend," declared Debby, obstinately,
+"for if all the wickedness in him 'ud come out in his face, pimples
+would be as thick as smuts in a London fog. No, Mr. Beecot, call him not
+what you do call him, meaning friend, for Judas and Julius Cezar ain't
+in it with his Belzebubness."
+
+Beecot saw it was vain to stop this chatterer, so he turned to talk in
+whispers to Sylvia, while Debby murmured on like a brook, only she
+spoke loud enough at times to drown the whispering of the lovers.
+
+"Sylvia," said Paul, softly, "I want you to send your father to me."
+
+"Yes, Paul. Why do you wish to see him?"
+
+"Because he must be told of our love. I don't think he will be so hard
+as you think, and I am ashamed of not having told him before. I like to
+act honorably, and I fear, Sylvia darling, we have not been quite fair
+to your father."
+
+"I think so, too, Paul, and I intended to speak when we went home. But
+give me your address, so that if we go away unexpectedly I'll be able to
+write to you."
+
+Beecot gave her his Bloomsbury address, and also that of his old home at
+Wargrove in Essex. "Write care of my mother," he said, "and then my
+father won't get the letter."
+
+"Would he be angry if he knew?" asked the girl, timidly.
+
+Paul laughed to himself at the thought of the turkey-cock's rage. "I
+think he would, dearest," said he, "but that does not matter. Be true to
+me and I'll be true to you."
+
+Here the nurse came to turn the visitors away on the plea that Paul had
+talked quite enough. Debby flared up, but became meek when Sylvia lifted
+a reproving finger. Then Paul asked Debby to seek his Bloomsbury
+lodgings and bring to him any letters that might be waiting for him. "I
+expect to hear from my mother, and must write and tell her of my
+accident," said he. "I don't want to trouble Mr. Hay, but you, Debby--"
+
+"Bless you, Mr. Beecot, it ain't no trouble," said the servant,
+cheerfully, "and better me nor that 'aughty peacock, as ain't to be
+trusted, say what you will, seeing criminals is a-looking out of his
+eyes, hide one though he may with a piece of glarse, and I ses--"
+
+"You must go now, please," interposed the nurse.
+
+"Oh, thank you, ma'am, but my own mistress, as is a lady, do I obey
+only."
+
+"Debby, Debby," murmured Sylvia, and after kissing Paul, a farewell
+which Debby strove to hide from the nurse by getting in front of her and
+blocking the view, the two departed. The nurse laughed as she arranged
+Paul's pillows.
+
+"What a strange woman, Mr. Beecot."
+
+"Very," assented Paul, "quite a character, and as true as the needle of
+the compass."
+
+Meanwhile, Debby, ignorant of this flattering description, conducted
+Sylvia to the draper's shop, and finally fixed on a hideous magenta
+gown, which she ordered to be made quite plain. "With none of your
+fal-de-lals," commanded Miss Junk, snorting. "Plain sewing and good
+stuff is all I arsk for. And if there's any left over you can send home
+a 'at of the same, which I can brighten with a cockes feather as my mar
+wore at her wedding. There, my own," added Debby, as they emerged from
+the shop and took a 'bus to Gwynne Street, "that's as you'll allways see
+me dressed--plain and 'omely, with no more trimmings than you'll see on
+a washing-day jint, as I know to my cost from my mar's ecomicals."
+
+"Economy, Debby."
+
+"It ain't fur me to be using fine words, Miss Sylvia; cockatoos'
+feathers on a goose they'd be in my mouth. The 'ole dixionary kin do for
+you my flower, but pothooks and 'angers never was my loves, me having
+been at the wash-tub when rising eight, and stout at that."
+
+In this way Debby discoursed all the way home. On arriving in the room
+over the shop they found themselves confronted by Aaron, who looked
+less timid than usual, and glowered at the pair angrily. "Where have
+you been, Sylvia?" he asked.
+
+The girl could not tell a direct lie, and looked at Debby. That
+handmaiden, less scrupulous, was about to blurt forth a garbled account,
+when Sylvia stopped her with a resolute expression on her pretty face.
+"No, Debby," she commanded, "let me speak. Father, I have been to see
+Mr. Beecot at the Charing Cross Hospital."
+
+"And you couldn't have my flower do less as a good Smart 'un," put in
+Debby, anxiously, so as to avert the storm. "Girls is girls whatever you
+may think, sir, of them being dolls and dummies and--"
+
+"Hold your tongue, woman," cried Norman, fiercely, "let me talk. Why is
+Mr. Beecot in the hospital?"
+
+"He was knocked down," said Sylvia, quietly, "and his arm is broken. A
+motor car ran over him in Gwynne Street. He wants to see you, to tell
+you that he lost something."
+
+Norman turned even whiter than he was by nature, and the perspiration
+suddenly beaded his bald forehead. "The opal serpent!" he cried.
+
+"Yes--the brooch he showed me."
+
+"He showed you!" cried Aaron, with a groan. "And what did he tell you
+about it?--what--what--what--the truth or--" He became passionate.
+
+Debby grasped Aaron's arm and whirled him into the middle of the room
+like a feather. Then she planted herself before Sylvia, with her arms
+akimbo, and glared like a lioness. "You can pinch me, sir, or gives me
+black eyes and red noses if you like, but no finger on my precious, if I
+die for it."
+
+Aaron was staggered by this defiance, and looked fierce for the moment.
+Then he became timid again and cast the odd, anxious look over his
+shoulder. "Leave the room, Deborah," he said in a mild voice.
+
+The faithful maid replied by sitting down and folding her arms. "Get
+your wild horses, sir," she said, breathing heavily, "for only by them
+will I be tugged away." And she snorted so loudly that the room shook.
+
+"Pshaw," said Norman, crossly, "Sylvia, don't be afraid of me." He wiped
+his face nervously. "I only want to know of the brooch. I like the
+opals--I wanted to buy it from Mr. Beecot. He is poor--he wants money. I
+can give it to him, for--the--the brooch."
+
+He brought out the last word with a gasp, and again glanced over his
+shoulder. Sylvia, not at all afraid, approached and took the old man's
+hand. The watchful Deborah moved her chair an inch nearer, so as to be
+ready for any emergency. "Dear father," said the girl, "Mr. Beecot
+doesn't know where the brooch is. It was stolen from him when the
+accident happened. If you will see him he can tell you--"
+
+"Not where the brooch is," interrupted Aaron, trying to appear calm.
+"Well, well, it doesn't matter." He glanced anxiously at Sylvia. "You
+believe me, child, when I say it doesn't matter."
+
+A snort from Deborah plainly said that she had her doubts. Sylvia cast a
+reproving glance in her direction, whereupon she rose and committed
+perjury. "Of course it don't matter, sir," she said in a loud, hearty
+voice which made Aaron wince. "My precious believes you, though lie it
+might be. But folk so good as you, sir, who go to church when there
+ain't anyone to see, wouldn't tell lies without them a-choking of them
+in their blessed throats."
+
+"How do you know I go to church?" asked Norman, with the snarl of a
+trapped animal.
+
+"Bless you, sir, I don't need glarses at my age, though not so young as
+I might be. Church you enjiy, say what you may, you being as regular as
+the taxes, which is saying much. Lor' save us all!"
+
+Deborah might well exclaim this. Her master flung himself forward with
+outstretched hands clawing the air, and with his lips lifted like those
+of an enraged dog. "You she-cat," he said in a painfully hissing voice,
+"you're a spy, are you? They've set you to watch--to drag me to the
+gallows--" he broke off with a shiver. His rage cooled as suddenly as it
+had heated, and staggering to the sofa he sat down with his face hidden.
+"Not that--not that--oh, the years of pain and terror! To come to
+this--to this--Deborah--don't sell me. Don't. I'll give you money--I am
+rich. But if the opal serpent--if the opal--" He rose and began to beat
+the air with his hands.
+
+Sylvia, who had never seen her father like this, shrank back in terror,
+but Deborah, with all her wits about her, though she was wildly
+astonished, seized a carafe of water from the table and dashed the
+contents in his face. The old man gasped, shuddered, and, dripping wet,
+sank again on the sofa. But the approaching fit was past, and when he
+looked up after a moment or so, his voice was as calm as his face.
+"What's all this?" he asked, feebly.
+
+"Nothing, father," said Sylvia, kneeling beside him; "you must not doubt
+Debby, who is as true as steel."
+
+"Are you, Deborah?" asked Aaron, weakly.
+
+"I should think so," she declared, putting her arms round Sylvia, "so
+long, sir, as you don't hurt my flower."
+
+"I don't want to hurt her ..."
+
+"There's feelings as well as bones," said Deborah, hugging Sylvia so as
+to keep her from speaking, "and love you can't squash, try as you may,
+though, bless you, I'm not given to keeping company myself."
+
+"Love," said Aaron, vacantly. He seemed to think more of his troubles
+than of Sylvia going to visit a young man.
+
+"Love and Mr. Beecot," said Deborah. "She wants to marry him."
+
+"Why, then," said Aaron, calmly, "she shall marry him."
+
+Sylvia fell at his feet. "Oh, father--father, and I have kept it from
+you all these months. Forgive me--forgive me," and she wept.
+
+"My dear," he said, gently raising her, "there is nothing to forgive."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A NOISE IN THE NIGHT
+
+
+Both Deborah and Sylvia were astonished that Aaron should be so
+indifferent about their long concealment. They had expected and dreaded
+a storm, yet when the secret was told Mr. Norman appeared to take it as
+calmly as though he had known about the matter from the first. Indeed,
+he seemed perfectly indifferent, and when he raised Sylvia and made her
+sit beside him on the sofa he reverted to the brooch.
+
+"I shall certainly see Mr. Beecot," he said in a dreamy way. "Charing
+Cross Hospital--of course. I'll go to-morrow. I had intended to see
+about selling the furniture then, but I'll wait till the next day. I
+want the brooch first--yes--yes," and he opened and shut his hand in a
+strangely restless manner.
+
+The girl and the servant looked at one another in a perplexed way, for
+it was odd Norman should take the secret wooing of his daughter so
+quietly. He had never evinced much interest in Sylvia, who had been left
+mainly to the rough attentions of Miss Junk, but sometimes he had
+mentioned that Sylvia would be an heiress and fit to marry a poor peer.
+The love of Paul Beecot overthrew this scheme, if the man intended to
+carry it out, yet he did not seem to mind. Sylvia, thinking entirely of
+Paul, was glad, and the tense expression of her face relaxed; but
+Deborah sniffed, which was always an intimation that she intended to
+unburden her mind on an unpleasant subject.
+
+"Well, sir," she said, folding her arms and scratching her elbow, "I do
+think as offspring ain't lumps of dirt to be trod on in this way. I
+arsk"--she flung out her hand towards Sylvia--"Is she your own or is she
+not?"
+
+"She is my daughter," said Aaron, mildly. "Why do you ask?"
+
+"'Cause you don't take interest you should take in her marriage, which
+is made in heaven if ever marriage was."
+
+Norman raised his head like a war-horse at the sound of a trumpet-call.
+"Who talks of marriage?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Dear father," said Sylvia, gently, "did you not hear? I love Paul, and
+I want to marry him."
+
+Aaron stared at her. "He is not a good match for you," was his reply.
+
+"He is the man I love," cried Sylvia, tapping with her pretty foot.
+
+"Love," said Norman, with a melancholy smile, "there is no such thing,
+child. Talk of hate--for that exists," he clenched his hands again,
+"hate that is as cruel as the grave."
+
+"Well I'm sure, sir, and what 'ave hates to do with my beauty there? As
+to love, exist it do, for Bart's bin talked into filling his 'eart with
+the same, by me. I got it out of a _Family Herald_," explained Deborah,
+incoherently, "where gentry throw themselves on their knees to arsk
+'ands in marriage. Bart was down on his hunkers every night for two
+weeks before he proposed proper, and I ses, ses I--"
+
+"Will you hold your tongue?" interrupted Aaron, angrily; "you gabble
+gabble till you make my head ache. You confuse me."
+
+"I want to clear your 'ead," retorted Miss Junk, "seeing you take no
+interest in my pretty's livings."
+
+Norman placed his fingers under Sylvia's chin, and tipped it up so that
+he could gaze into her eyes. "Child, do you love him?" he asked gravely.
+
+"Oh, father!" whispered Sylvia, and said no more. The expression of her
+eyes was enough for Aaron, and he turned away with a sigh.
+
+"You know nothing about him," he said at length.
+
+"Begging pardon, sir, for being a gabbler," said Deborah, witheringly,
+"but know what he is we do--a fine young gent with long descents and
+stone figgers in churches, as Bart knows. Beecot's his par's name, as is
+fighting with Mr. Paul by reason of contrariness and 'igh living, him
+being as stout as stout."
+
+"Perhaps you will explain, Sylvia," said Aaron, turning impatiently from
+the handmaiden.
+
+"I should have explained before," said the girl, quietly and very
+distinctly. "I loved Paul from the moment I saw him enter the shop six
+months ago. He came again and again, and we often talked. Then he told
+me of his love, and I confessed mine. Deborah wanted to know who he was,
+and if he was a good man. From what I learned of Paul's people he seemed
+to be all that was good and generous and high-minded and loving. Deborah
+sent Bart one holiday to Wargrove in Essex, where Paul's parents live,
+and Bart found that Paul had left home because he wanted to be an
+author. Paul is very popular in Wargrove, and everyone speaks well of
+him. So Deborah thought we might be engaged, and--"
+
+"And have you a word to say against it, sir?" demanded Deborah,
+bristling.
+
+"No," said Aaron, after a pause, "but you should have told me."
+
+"We should," admitted Sylvia, quickly, "but Paul and I feared lest you
+should say 'No.'"
+
+"My child," said the old man, gravely, "so long as you wed a kind and
+good man I have nothing to say. Sylvia, I have worked hard these many
+years and have made much money, which, by will, I have left to you. When
+I die you will be rich. He is poor."
+
+"Paul--yes, he is poor. But what of that?"
+
+"Many fathers might think that an objection," went on Aaron without
+noticing her remark. "But I do not. You shall marry Paul before I go to
+America."
+
+"Lor'!" cried Deborah, "whatever are you a-goin' there for, sir?"
+
+"That's my business," said Aaron, dryly, "but I go as soon as I can. I
+have sold the books; and the furniture of these rooms shall be disposed
+of before the end of the week. My gems I take to Amsterdam for sale, and
+I go abroad next week. When I return in a fortnight you can marry Mr.
+Beecot. He is a good young man. I quite approve of him."
+
+Deborah snorted. "Seems to me as though you was glad to get quit of my
+pretty," she murmured, but too low to be overheard.
+
+"Oh, father," cried Sylvia, putting her arms round Norman's neck, "how
+good you are! I _do_ love him so."
+
+"I hope the love will continue," said her father, cynically, and
+removing the girl's arms, to the secret indignation of Deborah. "I shall
+call on Mr. Beecot to-morrow and speak to him myself about the matter.
+If we come to an arrangement, for I have a condition to make before I
+give my entire consent, I shall allow you a certain sum to live on. Then
+I shall go to America, and when I die you will inherit all my
+money--when I die," he added, casting the usual look over his shoulders.
+"But I won't die for many a long day," he said, with a determined air.
+"At least, I hope not."
+
+"You are healthy enough, father."
+
+"Yes! Yes--but healthy people die in queer ways."
+
+Deborah intervened impatiently. "I'm glad you wish to make my lily-queen
+happy, sir," said she, nodding, "but change your mind you may if Mr.
+Beecot don't fall in."
+
+"Fall in?" queried Aaron.
+
+"With this arrangements--what is they?"
+
+Aaron looked undecided, then spoke impulsively, walking towards the door
+as he did so. "Let Mr. Beecot give me that opal serpent," he said, "and
+he shall have Sylvia and enough to live on."
+
+"But, father, it is lost," cried Sylvia, in dismay.
+
+She spoke to the empty air. Norman had hastily passed through the door
+and was descending the stairs quicker than usual. Sylvia, in her
+eagerness to explain, would have followed, but Deborah drew her back
+with rough gentleness. "Let him go, lily-queen," she said; "let sleeping
+dogs lie if you love me."
+
+"Deborah, what do you mean?" asked Sylvia, breathlessly.
+
+"I don't mean anything that have a meaning," said Miss Junk,
+enigmatically, "but your par's willing to sell you for that dratted
+brooch, whatever he wants it for. And you to be put against a brooch my
+honey-pot. I'm biling--yes, biling hard," and Deborah snorted in proof
+of the extremity of her rage.
+
+"Never mind, Debby. Father consents that I shall marry Paul, and will
+give us enough to live on. Then Paul will write great books, and his
+father will ask him home again. Oh--oh!" Sylvia danced round the room
+gaily, "how happy I am."
+
+"And happy you shall be if I die for it," shouted Deborah, screwing up
+her face, for she was not altogether satisfied, "though mysteries I
+don't hold with, are about. America--what's he going to America for? and
+with that brooch, and him locking us up every night to sleep in cellars.
+Police-courts and Old Baileys," said Miss Junk, frowning. "I don't like
+it, Sunbeam, and when you're married to Mr. Beecot I'll be that happy as
+never was."
+
+Sylvia opened her grey eyes in wide surprise and a little alarm. "Oh,
+Debby, you don't think there's anything wrong with father?"
+
+Miss Junk privately thought there was a good deal wrong, but she folded
+Sylvia in her stout arms and dismissed the question with a snort. "No,
+lovey, my own, there ain't. It's just my silly way of going on. Orange
+buds and brides the sun shines on, is your fortunes, Miss Sylvia, though
+how I'm going to call you Mrs. Beecot beats me," and Deborah rubbed her
+nose.
+
+"I shall always be Sylvia to you."
+
+"Bless you, lady-bird, but don't ask me to live with Mr. Beecot's
+frantic par, else there'll be scratchings if he don't do proper what he
+should do and don't. So there." Deborah swung her arms like a windmill.
+"My mind's easy and dinner's waiting, for, love or no love, eat you
+must, to keep your insides' clockwork."
+
+When Bart heard the joyful news he was glad, but expressed regret that
+Norman should go to America. He did not wish to lose his situation, and
+never thought the old man would take him to the States also. Deborah
+vowed that if Aaron did want to transport Bart--so she put it--she would
+object. Then she unfolded a scheme by which, with Bart's savings and her
+own, they could start a laundry. "And I knows a drying ground," said
+Deborah, while talking at supper to her proposed husband, "as is lovely
+and cheap. One of them suburbs on the line to Essex, where my pretty
+will live when her husband's frantic par makes it up. Jubileetown's the
+place, and Victoria Avenue the street. The sweetest cottage at twenty
+pun' a year as I ever set eyes on. And m'sister as is married to a
+bricklayer is near to help with the family."
+
+"The family?" echoed Bart, looking scared.
+
+"In course--they will come, though it's early to be thinking of names
+for 'em. I'll do the washing, Bart, and you'll take round the cart, so
+don't you think things 'ull be otherwise."
+
+"I don't want 'em to," said Bart, affectionately. "I always loved you,
+Debby darling."
+
+"Ah," said Miss Junk, luxuriously, "I've taught you to, in quite a
+genteel way. What a scrubby little brat you were, Bart!"
+
+"Yuss," said Mr. Tawsey, eating rapidly. "I saw myself to-day."
+
+"In a looking-glarse?"
+
+"Lor', Debby--no. But there wos a brat all rags and dirty face and sauce
+as I was when you saw me fust. He come into the shop as bold as brass
+and arsked fur a book. I ses, 'What do you want with a book?' and he
+ses, looking at the shelves so empty, 'I sees your sellin' off,' he ses,
+so I jumped up to clip him over the 'ead, when he cut. Tray's his name,
+Debby, and he's the kid as talked to that cold gent Mr. Beecot brought
+along with him when he got smashed."
+
+"Tray--that's a dog's name," said Deborah, "old dog Tray, and quite good
+enough for guttersnipes. As to Mr. Hay, don't arsk me to say he's good,
+for that he ain't. What's he want talking with gutter Trays?"
+
+"And what do gutter Trays want with books?" asked Bart, "though to be
+sure 'twas impertinence maybe."
+
+Deborah nodded. "That it was, and what you'd have done when you was a
+scrubby thing. Don't bolt your food, but make every bit 'elp you to
+'ealth and long living. You won't 'ave gormandising when we've got the
+laundry, I can tell you."
+
+Next day Aaron went off in the afternoon to Charing Cross Hospital,
+after holding a conversation with a broker who had agreed to buy the
+derelict furniture. The shop, being empty, was supposed to be closed,
+but from force of habit Bart took down the shutters and lurked
+disconsolately behind the bare counter. Several old customers who had
+not heard of the sale entered, and were disappointed when they learned
+that Aaron was leaving. Their lamentations made Bart quite low-spirited.
+However, he was polite to all, but his manners broke down when a Hindoo
+entered to sell boot-laces. "I ain't got nothing to sell, and don't want
+to buy nohow," said Bart, violently.
+
+The man did not move, but stood impassively in the doorway like a bronze
+statue. He wore a dirty red turban carelessly wound round his small
+head, an unclean blouse which had once been white, circled by a yellow
+handkerchief of some coarse stuff, dark blue trousers and slippers with
+curled-up toes on naked feet. His eyes were black and sparkling and he
+had a well-trimmed moustache which contrasted oddly with his shabby
+attire. "Hokar is poor: Hokar need money," he whined in a monotone, but
+with his eyes glancing restlessly round the shop. "Give Hokar--give,"
+and he held out the laces.
+
+"Don't want any, I tell you," shouted Bart, tartly. "I'll call a peeler
+if you don't git."
+
+"Ho! ho! who stole the donkey?" cried a shrill voice at the door, and
+from behind the hawker was poked a touzelled curly head, and a grinning
+face which sadly needed washing. "You leave this cove alone, won't y?
+He's a pal o' mine. D'y see?"
+
+"You git along with your pal then," cried Bart, indignantly. "If he
+don't understand King's English, you do, Tray."
+
+Tray darted into the middle of the shop and made a face at the indignant
+shopman by putting his fingers in his mouth to widen it, and pulling
+down his eyes. Hokar never smiled, but showed no disposition to move.
+Bart, angered at this blocking up the doorway, and by Tray's war dance,
+jumped the counter. He aimed a blow at the guttersnipe's head, but
+missed it and fell full length. The next moment Tray was dancing on his
+body with his tongue out derisively. Then Hokar gave a weird smile.
+"Kalee!" he said to himself. "Kalee!"
+
+How the scene would have ended it is impossible to say, but while Bart
+strove to rise and overturn Tray, Aaron walked in past the Indian.
+"What's this?" he asked sharply. Tray stopped his dancing on Bart's
+prostrate body and gave a shrill whistle by placing two dirty fingers in
+his mouth. Then he darted between Norman's legs and made off. Hokar
+stood staring at the bookseller, and after a pause pointed with his
+finger. "One--eye," he said calmly, "no good!"
+
+Aaron was about to inquire what he meant by this insult, when the Indian
+walked to the counter and placed something thereon, after which he moved
+away, and his voice was heard dying away down the street. "Hokar is
+poor--Hokar need money. Hokar, Christian."
+
+"What's this?" demanded Norman, again assisting Bart roughly to his
+feet.
+
+"Blest if I know," replied Tawsey, staring; "they're mad, I think," and
+he related the incoming of the Indian and the street arab. "As for that
+Tray," said he, growling, "I'll punch his blooming 'ead when I meets him
+agin, dancing on me--yah. Allays meddlin' that brat, jus' as he wos
+when Mr. Beecot was smashed."
+
+"You saw that accident?" asked his master, fixing his one eye on him.
+
+"Yuss," said Bart, slowly, "I did, but Deborah she told me to say
+nothink. Mr. Beecot was smashed, and his friend, the cold eye-glarsed
+gent, pulled him from under the wheels of that there machine with Tray
+to help him, and between 'em they carried him to the pavement."
+
+"Humph!" said Aaron, resting his chin on his hand and speaking more to
+himself than to his assistant, "so Tray was on the spot. Humph!" Bart,
+having brushed himself, moved behind the counter and took up what Hokar
+had left. "Why, it's brown sugar!" he exclaimed, touching it with his
+tongue, "coarse brown sugar--a handful." He stretched out his palm
+heaped with the sugar to his master. "What do that furrein pusson mean
+by leaving dirt about?"
+
+"I don't know, nor do I care," snapped Aaron, who appeared to be out of
+temper. "Throw it away!" which Bart did, after grumbling again at the
+impudence of the street hawker.
+
+Norman did not go upstairs, but descended to the cellar, where he busied
+himself in looking over the contents of the three safes. In these, were
+many small boxes filled with gems of all kind, cut and uncut: also
+articles of jewellery consisting of necklaces, bracelets, stars for the
+hair, brooches, and tiaras. The jewels glittered in the flaring
+gaslight, and Aaron fondled them as though they were living things. "You
+beauties," he whispered to himself, with his one eye gloating over his
+hoard. "I'll sell you, though it goes to my heart to part with lovely
+things. But I must--I must--and then I'll go--not to America--oh, dear
+no! but to the South Seas. They won't find me there--no--no! I'll be
+rich, and happy, and free. Sylvia can marry and live happy. But the
+serpent," he said in a harsh tone, "oh, the opal serpent! The
+pawnbroker's shop. Stowley--yes--I know it. I know it. Stowley. They
+want it back; but they sha'n't. I'll buy it from Beecot by giving him
+Sylvia. It's lost--lost." He looked over his shoulder as he spoke in a
+terrified whisper. "Perhaps they have it, and then--then," he leaped up
+and flung the armful of baubles he held on to the deal table, "and
+then--I must get away--away."
+
+He pulled out three or four coarse sacks of a small size and filled
+these with the jewellery. Then he tied a cord round the neck of each
+sack and sealed it. Afterwards, with a sigh, he closed the safe and
+turned down the gas. He did not leave by the trap, which led through the
+shop, but opened and locked the back door of the cellar, ascended the
+steps and went out into the street through the side passage. "If they
+come," he thought as he walked into the gathering night, "they won't
+find these. No! no!" and he hugged the bags closely.
+
+Sylvia upstairs waited anxiously for the return of her father from the
+hospital, as she both wanted to hear how her lover was progressing and
+what he said about the permission to marry being given. But Aaron did
+not come to supper, as was his usual custom. Bart said, when inquiries
+were made, that the master had gone down into the cellar and was
+probably there. Meanwhile, according to his usual habit, he put up the
+shutters and departed. Sylvia and Deborah ate their frugal meal and
+retired to bed, the girl much disturbed at the absence of her father.
+Outside, in the street, the passers-by diminished in number, and as the
+night grew darker and the lamps were lighted hardly a person remained in
+Gwynne Street. It was not a fashionable thoroughfare, and after
+nightfall few people came that way. By eleven o'clock there was not a
+soul about. Even the one policeman who usually perambulated the street
+was conspicuous by his absence.
+
+Sylvia, in her bed, had fallen into a troubled sleep, and was dreaming
+of Paul, but not happily. She seemed to see him in trouble. Then she
+woke suddenly, with all her senses alert, and sat up. Faintly she heard
+a wild cry, and then came the twelve strokes of the church bells
+announcing midnight. Breathlessly she waited, but the cry was not
+repeated. In the darkness she sat up listening until the quarter chimed.
+Then the measured footsteps of a policeman were heard passing down the
+street and dying away. Sylvia was terrified. Why, she hardly knew: but
+she sprang from her bed and hurried into Deborah's room. "Wake up," she
+said, "there's something wrong."
+
+Deborah was awake in a moment and lighted the lamp. On hearing Sylvia's
+story she went down the stairs followed by the girl. The door at the
+bottom, strange to say, was not locked. Deborah opened this, and peering
+into the shop gave a cry of alarm and horror.
+
+Lying on the floor was Aaron, bound hand and foot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+A TERRIBLE NIGHT
+
+
+"Go back!--go back, my precious!" cried Deborah, her first thought being
+how to spare Sylvia the sight.
+
+But the girl, remembering that agonized cry which had awakened her,
+faint and far away as it sounded, pushed past the servant and ran into
+the middle of the shop. The lamp, held high by Deborah over her head,
+cast a bright circle of light on the floor, and in the middle of this
+Sylvia saw her father breathing heavily. His hands were bound behind his
+back in a painful way, his feet were tightly fastened, and his head
+seemed to be attached to the floor. At least, when the body (as it
+seemed from its stillness) suddenly writhed, it rolled to one side, but
+the head remained almost motionless. The two women hung back, clutching
+each other's hands, and were almost too horrified to move at the sight.
+"Look! Look!" cried Sylvia, gasping, "the mouth!" Deborah looked and
+gave a moan. Aaron's mouth was rigidly closed under a glittering jewel.
+Deborah bent down, still moaning, so great did the horror of the thing
+paralyse her speech, and saw the lights flash back from many diamonds:
+she saw bluish gleams and then a red sparkle like the ray of the setting
+sun. It was the opal serpent brooch, and Aaron's lips were fastened
+together with the stout pin. On his mouth and across his agonised face
+in which the one eye gleamed with terrific meaning the jewelled serpent
+seemed to writhe.
+
+"Oh, poor soul!" cried Deborah, falling on her knees with the lamp still
+held above her head. "Sylvia see--"
+
+The girl gasped again, and impulsively knelt also, trying with nerveless
+fingers to unfasten the cruel pin which sealed the man's lips. He still
+lived, for they heard him breathing and saw the gleaming eye: but even
+as they looked the face grew black: the eye opened and closed
+convulsively. Deborah set down the lamp and tried to raise the head. She
+could not lift it from the floor. Then the bound feet swung in the air
+and fell again with a dull thud. The eye remained wide open, staring in
+a glassy, manner: the breathing had stopped: and the body was
+motionless. "He's dead," said Deborah, leaping to her feet and catching
+away the girl. "Help! Help!"
+
+Her loud voice rang fiercely through the empty shop and echoed round and
+round. But there came no answering cry. Not a sound could be heard in
+the street. On the bare floor was the lamp shining on that dreadful
+sight: the body with sealed lips, and the glittering jewel, and leaning
+against the wall were the two women, Deborah staring at her dead master,
+but with Sylvia's eyes pressed against her bosom so that she might not
+witness the horror. And the stillness deepened weirdly every moment.
+
+Sylvia tried to move her head, but Deborah pressed it closer to her
+breast. "Don't, my pretty--don't," she whispered harshly.
+
+"I must--I--ah!" the girl freed her head from those kind arms with a
+wrench, and looked at the gruesome sight. She staggered forward a few
+steps, and then fell back. Deborah received her in her arms, and,
+thankful that Sylvia had fainted, carried her up the stairs to lay the
+unconscious girl on her own bed. Then she descended rapidly, locked the
+door leading from the shop to the stairs, and again looked at the body.
+The time she had been away was about seven or eight minutes, and the
+body still remained with the one open eye staring meaninglessly at the
+ceiling. Deborah, drawn by fascination like a bird by a serpent, crept
+forward and touched the head. It moved, and she again tried to lift it.
+This time she found she could do so. The head she lifted against her
+breast, and then laid it down with horror when she found the bosom of
+her nightgown was stained with blood. Pulling her wits together, for she
+felt that she needed them every one, she examined the head and neck. To
+her horror she found round the throat a strong thin copper wire, which
+disappeared through a hole in the floor. Apparently this had been pulled
+so tightly as to keep the head down and to choke the old man, and so
+cruelly as to cut deeply into the flesh. With a moan of horror Deborah
+dropped the head and ran to the trap-door in the corner. If anywhere,
+those who had murdered Aaron Norman were lurking in the cellar. But the
+trap-door would not open, and then she remembered that it was closed by
+a bolt underneath. She could not reach the midnight assassin that way.
+
+"The front door," she gasped, and ran to unbolt it. The bolts were
+easily removed, but the door was also locked, and Aaron usually had the
+key deposited nightly in the cellar by Bart. Repugnant as it was for her
+to approach the dead body, Deborah again went forward and felt in the
+pockets and loose clothing. The man was completely dressed, even to an
+overcoat which he wore. But she could not find the key and wondered what
+she was to do. Probably the key had been hung up in the cellar as usual.
+Necessity being the mother of invention, she remembered that the
+window-glass was fragile, and ran up in the hope of breaking through.
+But the stout shutters were up, so Deborah found that she was sealed in
+the house. Almost in a state of distraction, for by this time her nerve
+had given way, she unlocked the door to the stairs and ran up three
+steps at a time to the sitting-room. Here she opened the window and
+scrambled out on to the ledge among Sylvia's flower-pots. Just as she
+was wondering how she could get down, the measured tread of a policeman
+was heard, and by craning her neck Deborah saw him coming leisurely
+along the street, swinging his dark lantern on the windows and doors. It
+was a moonlight night and the street was extraordinarily well lighted as
+the moon shone straightly between the houses. Gathering her strength for
+a last effort, Deborah yelled as only she could yell, and saw the
+startled officer spinning round, looking up and down and sideways to see
+where the shrieks came from. "Up--up--oh, look up, you fool!" screamed
+Deborah. "Murder--oh, murder! Burst in the door, call the police, drat
+you! Help!--help!"
+
+By this time she was the centre of a circle of bright light, for the
+policeman had located her, and his lantern was flashing on her white
+nightgown as she clung to the window-sill.
+
+"What are you making that noise for?" called up the officer, gruffly.
+
+"Murder, you fool!" screamed Deborah. "Master's murdered. Number
+forty-five--the door's locked--break it open. Police!--police!"
+
+Before she finished the sentence the officer blew his whistle shrilly
+and ran to the door of the shop, against which he placed his shoulder.
+Deborah climbed in again by the window, and ran down again, but even
+then, in her excitement and horror, she did not forget to lock the door
+leading to the stairs, so that Sylvia might not be disturbed. As she
+descended she flung a thick shawl over her shoulders, which she had
+caught up when leaving her room, though for the rest she had nothing on
+but a nightgown. But the poor woman was too terrified to be troubled by
+any scruples at the moment, and reached the shop to hear heavy blows on
+the door. Between the thuds Deborah could hear footsteps running inward
+from every quarter. "I ain't got the key!" she shrieked through the
+keyhole; "break in the door, drat you! Murder!--murder!"
+
+From the noise she made those without concluded that some terrible crime
+was taking place within, and redoubled their efforts. Deborah had just
+time to leap back after a final scream when the door fell flat on the
+floor, and three policemen sprang into the room with drawn batons and
+their lights flashing like stars. The lamp was still on the floor
+shedding its heavy yellow light on the corpse. "Master!" gasped Deborah,
+pointing a shaking finger. "Dead--the--the cellar--the--" and here she
+made as to drop. A policeman caught her in his arms, but the woman shook
+herself free. "I sha'n't faint--no--I sha'n't faint," she gasped, "the
+cellar--look--look--" She ran forward and raised the head of the dead
+man. When the officers saw the dangling slack wire disappearing through
+a hole in the floor they grasped the situation. "The passage outside!"
+cried Deborah, directing operations; "the trap-door," she ran to it,
+"fast bolted below, and them murdering people are there."
+
+"How many are there?" asked a policeman, while several officers ran
+round the back through the side passage.
+
+"Oh, you dratted fool, how should I know!" cried Deborah, fiercely;
+"there may be one and there may be twenty. Go and catch them--you're
+paid for it. Send to number twenty Park Street, Bloomsbury, for Bart."
+
+"Who is Bart?"
+
+"Go and fetch him," cried Deborah, furious at this delay; "number twenty
+Park Street, Bloomsbury. Oh, what a night this is! I'm a-goin' to see
+Miss Sylvia, who has fainted, and small blame," and she made for the
+locked door. An officer came after her. "Go away," shrieked Deborah,
+pushing him back. "I've got next to nothink on, and my pretty is ill. Go
+away and do your business."
+
+Seeing she was distracted and hardly knew what she was saying, the man
+drew back, and Deborah ran up the stairs to Sylvia's room, where she
+found the poor girl still unconscious.
+
+Meanwhile, an Inspector had arrived, and one of the policemen was
+detailing all that had occurred from the time Deborah had given the
+alarm at the window. The Inspector listened quietly to everything, and
+then examined the body. "Strangled with a copper wire," he said, looking
+up. "Go for a doctor one of you. It goes through the floor," he added,
+touching the wire which still circled the throat, "and must have been
+pulled from below. Examine the cellar."
+
+Even as he spoke, and while one zealous officer ran off for a medical
+man, there was a grating sound and the trap-door was thrown open. A
+policeman leaped into the shop and saluted when he saw his superior. By
+this time the gas had been lighted. "We've broken down the back door,
+sir," said he, "the cellar door--it was locked but not bolted. Nothing
+in the cellar, everything in order, but that wire," he pointed to the
+means used for strangling, "dangled from the ceiling and a cross piece
+of wood is bound to the lower end."
+
+"Who does the shop belong to?"
+
+"Aaron Norman," said the policeman whose beat it was; "he's a
+second-hand bookseller, a quiet, harmless, timid sort of man."
+
+"Anyone about?"
+
+"No, sir. I passed down Gwynne Street at about a quarter past twelve and
+all seemed safe. When I come back later--it might have been twenty
+minutes and more--say twenty-five--I saw the woman who was down here
+clinging to a window on the first floor, and shouting murder. I gave the
+summons, sir, and we broke open the door."
+
+Inspector Prince laid down the dead man's head and rose to his feet with
+a nod. "I'll go upstairs and see the woman," he said; "tell me when the
+doctor comes."
+
+Upstairs he examined the sitting-room, and lighted the gas therein; then
+he mounted another storey after looking through the kitchen and
+dining-room. In a bedroom he found an empty bed, but heard someone
+talking in a room near at hand. Flinging open the door he heard a
+shriek, and found himself confronted by Deborah, who had hastily flung
+on some clothes. "Don't come in," she cried, extending her arm, "for I'm
+just getting Miss Sylvia round."
+
+"Nonsense," said the Inspector, and pushing her roughly aside he stepped
+into the room. On the bed lay Sylvia, apparently still unconscious, but
+as the man looked at her she opened her eyes with a long sigh. Deborah
+put her arms round the girl and began to talk to her in an endearing
+way. Shortly Sylvia sat up, bewildered. "What is it?" she asked. Then
+her eyes fell on the policeman. "Oh, where is my father?"
+
+"He's dead, pretty," said Deborah, fondling her. "Don't take on so."
+
+"Yes--I remember--the body on the floor--the serpent across the
+mouth--oh--oh!" and she fainted again.
+
+"There!" cried Deborah, with bitter triumph, "see what you've done."
+
+"Come--come," said Inspector Prince, though as gently as possible. "I
+am in charge of this case. Tell me what has happened."
+
+"If you'd use your blessed eyes you'd see murder has happened," said
+Miss Junk, savagely. "Let me attend to my pretty."
+
+Just at this moment a tall young man entered the room. It was the
+doctor. "The policemen said you were up here," he said in a pleasant
+voice. "I've examined the body, Inspector. The man is quite dead--he has
+been strangled--and in a cruel manner with that copper wire, which has
+cut into the throat, to say nothing of this," and the doctor held out
+the brooch.
+
+"That, drat it!" cried Deborah, vigorously, "it's the cause of it all, I
+do believe, if I died in saying so," and she began to rub Sylvia's hands
+vigorously.
+
+"Who is this young lady?" asked the doctor; "another patient?"
+
+"And well she may be," said Miss Junk. "Call yourself a doctor, and
+don't help me to bring her to."
+
+"Do what you can," said Prince, "and you," he added to Deborah, "come
+down with me. I wish to ask you a few questions."
+
+Deborah was no fool and saw that the Inspector was determined to make
+her do what he wanted. Besides, Sylvia was in the hands of the doctor,
+and Deborah felt that he could do more than she, to bring the poor girl
+to her senses. After a few parting injunctions she left the room and
+went downstairs with the Inspector. The police had made no further
+discovery.
+
+Prince questioned not only the Gwynne Street policeman, who had given
+his report, but all others who had been in the vicinity. But they could
+tell him nothing. No one suspicious had been seen leaving Gwynne Street
+north or south, so, finding he could learn nothing in this direction,
+Prince turned his attention to the servant. "Now, then, what do you
+know?" he asked. "Don't say anything likely to incriminate yourself."
+
+"Me!" shouted Deborah, bouncing up with a fiery face. "Don't you be
+taking away my character. Why, I know no more who have done it than a
+babe unborn, and that's stupid enough, I 'opes, Mr. Policeman. Ho!
+indeed, and we pays our taxes to be insulted by you, Mr. Policeman." She
+was very aggravating, and many a man would have lost his temper. But
+Inspector Prince was a quiet and self-controlled officer, and knew how
+to deal with this violent class of women. He simply waited till Deborah
+had exhausted herself, and then gently asked her a few questions.
+Finding he was reasonable, Deborah became reasonable on her part, and
+replied with great intelligence. In a few minutes the Inspector, by
+handling her deftly, learned all that had taken place on that terrible
+night, from the time Sylvia had started up in bed at the sound of that
+far-distant cry of a soul in agony. "And that, from what Miss Sylvia
+says," ended Deborah, "was just before the church clock struck the hour
+of twelve."
+
+"You came down a quarter of an hour later?"
+
+"I did, when Miss Sylvia woke me," said Deborah; "she was frightened out
+of her seven senses, and couldn't get up at once. Yes--it was about
+twenty minutes after the hour we come down to see--It," and the woman,
+strong nerved as she was, shuddered.
+
+"Humph," said the Inspector, "the assassin had time to escape."
+
+"Begging your pardon, sir, them, or him, or her, or it as murdered
+master was below in the cellar when we saw the corp--not that it was
+what you'd call a corp then."
+
+"Will you say precisely what you mean?"
+
+Deborah did so, and with such wealth of detail that even the hardened
+Inspector felt the creeps down his official back. There was something
+terribly merciless about this crime. The man had been bound like a
+sheep for the slaughter; his mouth had been sealed with the brooch so
+that he could not cry out, and then in the sight of his child and
+servant he had been slowly strangled by means of the copper wire which
+communicated with the cellar. One of the policemen brought up an auger
+which evidently had been used to bore the hole for the wire to pass
+through, for the fresh sawdust was still in its whorls. "Who does this
+belong to?" Prince asked Deborah.
+
+"It's Bart's," said Deborah, staring; "he was using it along with other
+tools to make some deal boxes for master, who was going away. I expect
+it was found in the cellar in the tool-box, for Bart allays brought it
+in tidy-like after he'd done his work in the yard, weather being fine,
+of course," ended Deborah, sniffing.
+
+"Where is this Bart?"
+
+"In bed like a decent man if he's to be my husband, which he is," said
+Miss Junk, tartly. "I told one of them idle bobbies to go and fetch him
+from Bloomsbury."
+
+"One has gone," said another policeman. "Bart Tawsey isn't he?"
+
+"Mr. Bartholemew Tawsey, if you please," said the servant, grandly. "I
+only hope he'll be here soon to protect me."
+
+"You're quite safe," said Prince, dryly, whereat there was a smile on
+the faces of his underlings, for Deborah in her disordered dress and
+with her swollen, flushed, excited face was not comely. "But what about
+this brooch you say is the cause of it all?"
+
+Deborah dropped with an air of fatigue. "If you kill me I can't talk of
+it now," she protested. "The brooch belonged to Mr. Paul Beecot."
+
+"And where is he?"
+
+"In the Charing Cross Hospital if you want to know, and as he's engaged
+to my pretty you needn't think he done it--so there."
+
+"I am accusing no one," said the Inspector, grimly, "but we must get to
+the bottom of this horrible crime."
+
+"Ah, well you may call it that," wailed Deborah, "with that serping on
+his poor mouth and him wriggling like an eel to get free. But 'ark,
+there's my pretty a-calling," and Miss Junk dashed headlong from the
+shop shouting comfort to Sylvia as she went.
+
+Prince looked at the dead man and at the opal serpent which he held in
+his hand. "This at one end of the matter, and that at the other. What is
+the connecting link between this brooch and that corpse?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE VERDICT OF THE JURY
+
+
+As may be guessed, the murder of Aaron Norman caused a tremendous
+sensation. One day the name was unknown, the next and it was in the
+mouths of the millions. The strange circumstances of the crime, the
+mystery which shrouded it, the abominable cruelty of the serpent brooch
+having been used to seal the man's lips while he was being slowly
+strangled, deepened the interest immensely. Here, at last was a murder
+worthy of Wilkie Collins's or Gaboriau's handling; such a crime as one
+expected to read of in a novel, but never could hope to hear of in real
+life. Fact had for once poached on the domains of fiction.
+
+But notwithstanding all the inquiries which were made, and all the
+vigilance of the police, and all the newspaper articles, and all the
+theories sent by people who knew nothing whatever of the matter, nothing
+tangible was discovered likely to lead to a discovery of the assassins
+or assassin. It was conjectured that two people at least had been
+concerned in the committal of the crime, as, weak physically though he
+was, the deceased would surely not have allowed himself to be bound by
+one person, however strong that person might be. In such a case there
+would certainly have been a scuffle, and as the daughter of the murdered
+man heard his cry for help--which was what Sylvia did hear--she would
+certainly have heard the noise of a rough-and-tumble struggle such as
+Norman would have made when fighting for his life. But that single
+muffled cry was all that had been heard, and then probably the brooch
+had been pinned on the mouth to seal it for ever. Later the man had been
+slowly strangled, and in the sight of his horrified daughter.
+
+Poor Sylvia received a severe shock after witnessing that awful sight,
+and was ill for some days. The faithful Deborah attended to her like a
+slave, and would allow no one, save the doctor, to enter the sick-room.
+Bart Tawsey, who had been summoned to Gwynne Street from his bed,
+remained in the empty shop and attended to any domestic duties which
+Miss Junk required to be performed. She made him cook viands for Sylvia
+and for herself, and, as he had been trained by her before, to act as an
+emergency cook, he did credit to her tuition. Also Bart ran messages,
+saw that the house was well locked and bolted at night, and slept on a
+hastily-improvised bed under the counter. Even Deborah's strong nerves
+were shaken by the horrors she had witnessed, and she insisted that Bart
+should remain to protect her and Sylvia. Bart was not over-strong, but
+he was wiry, and, moreover, had the courage of a cock sparrow, so while
+he was guarding the house Deborah had no fears, and could attend
+altogether to her sick mistress.
+
+One of the first people to call on Miss Norman was a dry, wizen monkey
+of a man, who announced himself as Jabez Pash, the solicitor of the
+deceased. He had, so he said, executed Aaron's legal business for years,
+and knew all his secrets. Yet, when questioned by the police, he could
+throw no light on the murder. But he knew of something strange connected
+with the matter, and this he related to the detective who was now in
+charge of the case.
+
+This officer was a chatty, agreeable, pleasant-faced man, with brown
+eyes, brown hair and brown skin. Also, to match his face, no doubt, he
+wore brown clothes, brown boots, a brown hat and a brown tie--in fact,
+in body, face and hands and dress he was all brown, and this prevalent
+color produced rather a strange effect. "He must ha' bin dyed," said
+Miss Junk when she set eyes on him. "But brown is better nor black, Miss
+Sylvia, though black you'll have to wear for your poor par, as is gone
+to a better land, let us hope, though there's no knowing."
+
+The brown man, who answered to the name of Hurd, or, as he genially
+described himself, "Billy" Hurd, saw Mr. Pash, the lawyer, after he had
+examined everyone he could lay hold of in the hopes of learning
+something likely to elucidate the mystery. "What do you know of this
+matter, sir?" asked the brown man, pleasantly.
+
+Pash screwed up his face in a manner worthy of his monkey looks. He
+would have been an absolute image of one with a few nuts in his cheek,
+and as he talked in a chattering sort of way, very fast and a trifle
+incoherent, the resemblance was complete. "I know nothing why my
+esteemed client should meet with such a death," he said, "but I may
+mention that on the evening of his death he called round to see me and
+deposited in my charge four bags of jewels. At least he said they were
+jewels, for the bags are sealed, and of course I never opened them."
+
+"Can I see those bags?" asked Hurd, amiably.
+
+The legal monkey hopped into the next room and beckoned Hurd to follow.
+Shortly the two were looking into the interior of a safe wherein reposed
+four bags of coarse white canvas sealed and tied with stout cords. "The
+odd thing is," said Mr. Pash, chewing his words, and looking so absurdly
+like a monkey that the detective felt inclined to call him "Jacko,"
+"that on the morning of the murder, and before I heard anything about
+it, a stranger came with a note from my esteemed client asking that the
+bags should be handed over."
+
+"What sort of a man?"
+
+"Well," said Pash, fiddling with his sharp chin, "what you might call a
+seafaring man. A sailor, maybe, would be the best term. He was stout and
+red-faced, but with drink rather than with weather, I should think, and
+he rolled on his bow-legs in a somewhat nautical way."
+
+"What name did he give?" asked Hurd, writing this description rapidly in
+his note-book.
+
+"None. I asked him who he was, and he told me--with many oaths I regret
+to say--to mind my own business. He insisted on having the bags to take
+back to Mr. Norman, but I doubted him--oh, yes," added the lawyer,
+shrewdly, "I doubted him. Mr. Norman always did his own business, and
+never, in my experience of him, employed a deputy. I replied to the
+unknown nautical man--a sailor--as you might say; he certainly smelt of
+rum, which, as we know, is a nautical drink--well, Mr. Hurd, I replied
+that I would take the bags round to Mr. Norman myself and at once. This
+office is in Chancery Lane, as you see, and not far from Gwynne Street,
+so I started with the bags."
+
+"And with the nautical gentleman?"
+
+"No. He said he would remain behind until I returned, so as to receive
+my apology when I had seen my esteemed client and become convinced of
+the nautical gentleman's rectitude. When I reached Gwynne Street I found
+that Mr. Norman was dead, and at once took the bags back to replace them
+in this safe, where you now behold them."
+
+"And this sailor?" asked Hurd, eyeing Mr. Pash keenly.
+
+The lawyer sucked in his cheeks and put his feet on the rungs of his
+chair. "Oh, my clerk tells me he left within five minutes of my
+departure, saying he could not wait."
+
+"Have you seen him since?"
+
+"I have not seen him since. But I am glad that I saved the property of
+my client."
+
+"Was Norman rich?"
+
+"Very well off indeed, but he did not make his money out of his
+book-selling business. In fact," said Pash, putting the tips of his
+fingers delicately together, "he was rather a good judge of jewels."
+
+"And a pawnbroker," interrupted Hurd, dryly. "I have heard all about
+that from Bart Tawsey, his shopman. Skip it and go on."
+
+"I can only go on so far as to say that Miss Norman will probably
+inherit a fortune of five thousand a year, beside the jewels contained
+in those bags. That is," said Mr. Pash, wisely, "if the jewels be not
+redeemed by those who pawned them."
+
+"Is there a will?" asked Hurd, rising to take his leave.
+
+Pash screwed up his eyes and inflated his cheeks, and wriggled so much
+that the detective expected an acrobatic performance, and was
+disappointed when it did not come off. "I really can't be sure on
+that point," he said softly. "I have not yet examined the papers
+contained in the safe of my deceased and esteemed client. He would
+never allow me to make his will. Leases--yes--he has some
+house-property--mortgages--yes--investments--yes--he entrusted me with
+all his business save the important one of making a will. But a great
+many other people act in the same strange way, though you might not
+think so, Mr. Hurd. They would never make a lease, or let a house, or
+buy property, without consulting their legal adviser, yet in the case of
+wills (most important documents) many prefer to draw them up themselves.
+Consequently, there is much litigation over wrongly-drawn documents of
+that nature."
+
+"All the better for you lawyers. Well, I'm off to look for your nautical
+gentleman."
+
+"Do you think he is guilty?"
+
+"I can't say," said Hurd, smiling, "and I never speak unless I am quite
+sure of the truth."
+
+"It will be hard to come at, in this case," said the lawyer.
+
+Billy the detective smiled pleasantly and shrugged his brown shoulders.
+"So hard that it may never be discovered," he said. "You know many
+mysteries are never solved. I suspect this Gwynne Street crime will be
+one of them."
+
+Hurd had learned a great deal about the opal brooch from Sylvia and
+Deborah, and what they told him resulted in his visiting the Charing
+Cross Hospital to see Paul Beecot. The young man was much worried. His
+arm was getting better, and the doctors assured him he would be able to
+leave the hospital in a few days. But he had received a letter from his
+mother, whom he had informed of his accident. She bewailed his danger,
+and wrote with many tears--as Paul saw from the blotted state of the
+letter--that her domestic tyrant would not allow her to come to London
+to see her wounded darling. This in itself was annoying enough, but Paul
+was still more irritated and excited by the report of Aaron's terrible
+death, which he saw in a newspaper. So much had this moved him that he
+was thrown into a high state of fever, and the doctor refused to allow
+him to read the papers. Luckily, Paul, for his own sake, had somewhat
+calmed down when Hurd arrived, so the detective was permitted to see
+him. He sat by the bedside and told the patient who he was. Beecot
+looked at him sharply, and then recognized him.
+
+"You are the workman," he said astonished.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Beecot, I am. I hear that you have not taken my warning
+regarding your friend, Mr. Grexon Hay."
+
+"Ah! Then you knew his name all the time!"
+
+"Of course I did. I merely spoke to you to set you on your guard against
+him. He'll do you no good."
+
+"But he was at school with me," said Beecot, angrily.
+
+"That doesn't make him any the better companion," replied Hurd; "see
+here, Mr. Beecot, we can talk of this matter another time. At present,
+as I am allowed to converse with you only for a short time, I wish to
+ask you about the opal serpent."
+
+Paul sat up, although Hurd tried to keep him down. "What do you know of
+that?--why do you come to me?"
+
+"I know very little and want to know more. As I told you, my name is
+Billy Hurd, and, as I did _not_ tell you, I am the detective whom the
+Treasury has placed in charge of this case."
+
+"Norman's murder?"
+
+"Yes! Have you read the papers?"
+
+"A few, but not enough. The doctors took them from me and--"
+
+"Gently, Mr. Beecot. Let us talk as little as possible. Where did you
+get that brooch?"
+
+"Why do you want to know? You don't suspect me, I hope?"
+
+Hurd laughed. "No. You have been in this ward all the time. But as the
+brooch was used cruelly to seal the dead man's mouth, it seems to me,
+and to Inspector Prince, that the whole secret of the murder lies in
+tracing it to its original possessor. Now tell me all about it," said
+Billy, and spread out his note-book.
+
+"I will if you'll tell me about Miss Norman. I'm engaged to marry her
+and I hear she is ill."
+
+"Oh, she is much better," said Hurd, pausing pencil in hand, "don't
+distress yourself. That young lady is all right; and when you marry her
+you'll marry an heiress, as I learn from the lawyer who does the
+business of the deceased."
+
+"I don't care about her being the heiress. Will you take a message to
+her from me?"
+
+"Certainly. What is it?" Hurd spoke quite sympathetically, for even
+though he was a detective he was a human being with a kindly heart.
+
+"Tell her how sorry I am, and that I'll come and see her as soon as I
+can leave this confounded hospital. Thanks for your kindness, Mr. Hurd.
+Now, what do you wish to know? Oh, yes--about the opal serpent, which,
+as you say, and as I think, seems to be at the bottom of all the
+trouble. Listen," and Paul detailed all he knew, taking the story up to
+the time of his accident.
+
+Hurd listened attentively. "Oh," said he, with a world of meaning, "so
+Mr. Grexon Hay was with you? Hum! Do you suppose he pushed you into the
+road on purpose?"
+
+"No," said Paul, staring, "I'm sure he didn't. What had he to gain by
+acting in such a way?"
+
+"Money, you may be sure," said Hurd. "That gentleman never does anything
+without the hope of a substantial reward. Hush! We'll talk of this when
+you're better, Mr. Beecot. You say the brooch was lost."
+
+"Yes. It must have slipped out of my pocket when I fell under the wheels
+of that machine. I believe there were a number of loafers and ragged
+creatures about, so it is just possible I may hear it has been picked
+up. I've sent an advertisement to the papers."
+
+Hurd shook his head. "You won't hear," he said. "How can you expect to
+when you know the brooch was used to seal the dead man's lips?"
+
+"I forgot that," said Paul, faintly. "My memory--"
+
+"Is not so good as it was." Hurd rose. "I'll go, as I see you are
+exhausted. Good-bye."
+
+"Wait! You'll keep me advised of how the case goes?"
+
+"Certainly, if the doctors will allow me to. Good-bye," and Hurd went
+away very well satisfied with the information he had obtained.
+
+The clue, as he thought it was, led him to Wargrove, where he obtained
+useful information from Mr. Beecot, who gave it with a very bad grace,
+and offered remarks about his son's being mixed up in the case, which
+made Hurd, who had taken a fancy to the young fellow, protest. From
+Wargrove, Hurd went to Stowley, in Buckinghamshire, and interviewed the
+pawnbroker whose assistant had wrongfully sold the brooch to Beecot many
+years before. There he learned a fact which sent him back to Mr. Jabez
+Pash in London.
+
+"I says, sir," said Hurd, when again in the lawyer's private room, "that
+nautical gentleman of yours pawned that opal serpent twenty years ago
+more or less."
+
+"Never," said the monkey, screwing up his face and chewing.
+
+"Yes, indeed. The pawnbroker is an old man, but he remembers the
+customer quite well, and his description, allowing for the time that has
+elapsed, answers to the man who tried to get the jewels from you."
+
+Mr. Pash chewed meditatively, and then inflated his cheeks. "Pooh," he
+said, "twenty years is a long time. A man then, and a man now, would be
+quite different."
+
+"Some people never change," said Hurd, quietly. "You have not changed
+much, I suspect."
+
+"No," cackled the lawyer, rather amused. "I grew old young, and have
+never altered my looks."
+
+"Well, this nautical gentleman may be the same. He pawned the article
+under the name of David Green--a feigned one, I suspect."
+
+"Then you think he is guilty?"
+
+"I have to prove that the brooch came into his possession again before I
+can do that," said Hurd, grimly. "And, as the brooch was lost in the
+street by Mr. Beecot, I don't see what I can do. However, it is strange
+that a man connected with the pawning of the brooch so many years ago
+should suddenly start up again when the brooch is used in connection
+with a terrible crime."
+
+"It is strange. I congratulate you on having this case, Mr. Hurd. It is
+an interesting one to look into."
+
+"And a mighty difficult one," said Hurd, rather depressed. "I really
+don't see my way. I have got together all the evidence I can, but I fear
+the verdict at the inquest will be wilful murder against some person or
+persons unknown."
+
+Hurd, who was not blind to his own limitations like some detectives,
+proved to be a true prophet. The inquest was attended by a crowd of
+people, who might as well have stayed away for all they learned
+concerning the identity of the assassin. It was proved by the evidence
+of Sylvia and Deborah how the murder had taken place, but it was
+impossible to show who had strangled the man. It was presumed that the
+assassin or assassins had escaped when Deborah went upstairs to shout
+murder out of the first-floor window. By that time the policeman on the
+Gwynne Street beat was not in sight, and it would have been easy for
+those concerned in the crime--if more than one--to escape by the cellar
+door, through the passage and up the street to mingle with the people in
+the Strand, which, even at that late hour, would not be deserted. Or
+else the assassin or assassins might have got into Drury Lane and have
+proceeded towards Oxford Street. But in whatever direction they went,
+none of the numerous policemen around the neighborhood on that fatal
+night had "spotted" any suspicious persons. It was generally assumed,
+from the peculiar circumstances of the crime, that more than one person
+was inculpated, and these had come out of the night, had committed the
+cruel deed, and then had vanished into the night, leaving no trace
+behind. The appearance of the fellow whom Mr. Pash called the nautical
+gentleman certainly was strange, and led many people to believe that
+robbery was the motive for the commission of the crime. "This man, who
+was powerful and could easily have overpowered a little creature like
+Norman, came to rob," said these wiseacres. "Finding that the jewels
+were gone, and probably from a memorandum finding that they were in the
+possession of the lawyer, he attempted the next morning to get them--"
+and so on. But against this was placed by other people the cruel
+circumstances of the crime. No mere robbery would justify the brooch
+being used to pin the dead man's lips together. Then, again, the man
+being strangled before his daughter's eyes was a refinement of cruelty
+which removed the case from a mere desire on the part of the murdered to
+get money. Finally, one man, as the police thought, could not have
+carried out the abominable details alone.
+
+So after questions had been asked and evidence obtained, and details
+shifted, and theories raised, and pros and cons discussed, the jury was
+obliged to bring in the verdict predicted by Mr. Hurd. "Wilful murder
+against some person or persons unknown," said the jury, and everyone
+agreed that this was the only conclusion that could be arrived at.
+
+Of course the papers took up the matter and asked what the police were
+doing to permit so brutal a murder to take place in a crowded
+neighborhood and in the metropolis of the world. "What was civilisation
+coming to and--" etc., etc. All the same the public was satisfied that
+the police and jury had done their duty. So the inquest was held, the
+verdict was given, and then the remains of Aaron Norman were committed
+to the grave; and from the journals everyone knew that the daughter left
+behind was a great heiress. "A million of money," said the Press, and
+lied as usual.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+CASTLES IN THE AIR
+
+
+So Aaron Norman, the second-hand bookseller of Gwynne Street, was dead
+and buried, and, it may be said, forgotten. Sylvia and those connected
+with her remembered the old man and his unhappy end, but the public
+managed to forget all about the matter in a wonderfully short space of
+time. Other events took place, which interested the readers of the
+newspapers more, and few recalled the strange Gwynne Street crime. Many
+people, when they did think, said that the assassins would never be
+discovered, but in this they were wrong. If money could hunt down the
+person or persons who had so cruelly murdered Aaron Norman, his daughter
+and heiress was determined that money could not be better spent. And
+Billy Hurd, knowing all about the case and taking a profound interest in
+it by reason of the mystery which environed it, was selected to follow
+up what clues there were.
+
+But while London was still seething with the tragedy and strangeness of
+the crime, Mr. Jabez Pash came to the heterogeneously-furnished
+sitting-room in Gwynne Street to read the will. For there was a will
+after all. Deborah, and Bart, who had witnessed it at the request of
+their master, told Mr. Pash of its existence, and he found it in one of
+the three safes in the cellar. It proved to be a short, curt document,
+such as no man in his senses would think of making when disposing of
+five thousand a year. Aaron was a clever business man, and Pash was
+professionally disgusted that he had left behind him such a loose
+testament.
+
+"Why didn't he come to me and have it properly drawn up?" he asked as he
+stood in the cellar before the open safe with the scrap of paper in his
+hand.
+
+Deborah, standing near, with her hands on her haunches, laughed
+heartily. "I think master believed he's spent enough money with you,
+sir. Lor' bless you, Mr. Pash, so long as the will's tight and fair what
+do it matter? Don't tell me as there's anything wrong and that my pretty
+won't come into her forting?"
+
+"Oh, the will's right enough," said Pash, screwing up his cheeks; "let
+us go up to the sitting-room. Is Miss Sylvia there?"
+
+"That she are, sir, and a-getting back her pretty color with Mr. Paul."
+
+Pash looked suspiciously at the handmaiden. "Who is he?"
+
+"Nobody to be spoke of in that lump of dirt way," retorted Deborah.
+"He's a gentleman who's going to marry my pretty."
+
+"Oh, the one who had the accident! I met him, but forgot his name."
+
+Miss Junk nodded vigorously. "And a mercy it was that he wasn't smashed
+to splinters, with spiled looks and half his limbses orf," she said.
+"Why, bless you, Mr. Pash, could I let my sunbeam marry a man as wasn't
+all there, 'eart of gold though he may have? But the blessing of
+Providence kept him together," shouted Deborah in a burst of gratitude,
+"and there he sits upstairs with arms to put about my lily-queen for the
+drying of her dear eyes."
+
+Mr. Pash was not at all pleased at this news and rubbed his nose hard.
+"If a proper will had only been made," he said aggressively, "a proper
+guardian might have been appointed, and this young lady would not have
+been permitted to throw herself away."
+
+"Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash," said Deborah, in an offended tone,
+"but this marriage is of my making, to say nothing of Heaven, which
+brought him and my pretty together. Mr. Beecot ain't got money, but his
+looks is takin', and his 'eart is all that an angel can want. My
+pretty's chice," added the maiden, shaking an admonitory finger, "and my
+pretty's happiness, so don't you go a-spilin' of it."
+
+"I have nothing to say, save to regret that a young lady in possession
+of five thousand a year should make a hasty contract like this," said
+Mr. Pash, dryly, and hopping up the cellar stairs.
+
+"It wasn't hasty," cried Deborah, following and talking all the time;
+"six months have them dears billed and cooed lovely, and if my queen
+wants to buy a husband, why not? Just you go up and read the will proper
+and without castin' cold water on my beauty's warm 'eart, or trouble
+will come of your talkin'. I'm mild," said Deborah, chasing the little
+lawyer up the stairs leading to the first floor, "mild as flat beer if
+not roused: but if you make me red, my 'and flies like a windmill,
+and--"
+
+Mr. Jabez Pash heard no more. He stopped his legal ears and fled into
+the sitting-room, where he found the lovers seated on a sofa near the
+window. Sylvia was in Paul's embrace, and her head was on his shoulder.
+Beecot had his arm in a sling, and looked pale, but his eyes were as
+bright as ever, and his face shone with happiness. Sylvia also looked
+happy. To know that she was rich, that Paul was to be her husband,
+filled the cup of her desires to the brim. Moreover, she was beginning
+to recover from the shock of her father's death, and was feverishly
+anxious to escape from Gwynne Street, and from the house where the
+tragedy had taken place.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Pash, drawing a long breath and sucking in his cheeks,
+"you lose no time, young gentleman."
+
+Paul laughed, but did not change his position. Sylvia indeed blushed and
+raised her head, but Paul still held her with his uninjured arm, defying
+Mr. Pash and all the world. "I am gathering rosebuds while I may, Mr.
+Pash," said he, misquoting Herrick's charming line.
+
+"You have plucked a very pretty one," grinned the monkey; "but may I
+request the rosebud's attention?"
+
+Sylvia extricated herself from her lover's arm with a heightened color,
+and nodded gravely. Seeing it was business, she had to descend from
+heaven to earth, but she secretly hoped that this dull little lawyer,
+who was a bachelor and had never loved in his dry little life, would
+soon go away and leave her alone with Prince Charming. Deborah guessed
+these thoughts with the instinct of fidelity, and swooped down on her
+young mistress.
+
+"It's the will, poppet," she whispered loudly, "but if it do make your
+dear head ache Mr. Beecot will listen."
+
+"I wish Mr. Beecot to listen in any case," said Pash, dryly, "if he is
+to marry my young and esteemed client."
+
+"We are engaged with the consent of my poor father," said Sylvia, taking
+Paul's hand. "I shall marry no one but Paul."
+
+"And Paul will marry an angel," said that young man, with a tender
+squeeze, "although he can't keep her in bread-and-butter."
+
+"Oh, I think there will be plenty of bread-and-butter," said the lawyer.
+"Miss Norman, we have found the will if," added Mr. Pash, disdainfully,
+"this," he held out the document with a look of contempt, "can be called
+a will."
+
+"It's all right, isn't it?" asked Sylvia, anxiously.
+
+"I mean the form and the writing and the paper, young lady. It is a good
+will in law, and duly signed and witnessed."
+
+"Me and Bart having written our names, lovey," put in Deborah.
+
+Pash frowned her into silence. "The will," he said, looking at the
+writing, "consists of a few lines. It leaves all the property of the
+testator to 'my daughter.'"
+
+"Your daughter!" screamed Deborah. "Why, you ain't married."
+
+"I am reading from the will," snapped Pash, coloring, and read again: "I
+leave all the real and personal property of which I may die possessed of
+to my daughter."
+
+"Sylvia Norman!" cried Deborah, hugging her darling.
+
+"There you are wrong," corrected Pash, folding up the so-called will,
+"the name of Sylvia isn't mentioned."
+
+"Does that make any difference?" asked Paul, quietly.
+
+"No. Miss Norman is an only daughter, I believe."
+
+"And an only child," said Deborah, "so that's all right. My pretty, you
+will have them jewels and five thousand a year."
+
+"Oh, Paul, what a lot of money!" cried Sylvia, appalled. "Whatever will
+we do with it all?"
+
+"Why, marry and be happy, of course," said Paul, rejoicing not so much
+on account of the money, although that was acceptable, but because this
+delightful girl was all his very--very own.
+
+"The question is," said Mr. Pash, who had been reflecting, and now
+reproduced the will from his pocket, "as to the name?"
+
+"What name?" asked Sylvia, and Deborah echoed the question.
+
+"Your name." Pash addressed the girl direct. "Your father's real name
+was Krill--Lemuel Krill."
+
+Sylvia looked amazed, Deborah uttered her usual ejaculation, "Lor'!" but
+Paul's expression did not change. He considered that this was all of a
+piece with the murder and the mystery of the opal brooch. Undoubtedly
+Mr. Lemuel Krill, _alias_ Aaron Norman, must have had good reason to
+change his name and to exhibit terror at the sight of the brooch. And
+the reason he dreaded, whatever it might be, had been the cause of his
+mysterious and tragic death. But Paul said nothing of these thoughts and
+there was silence for a few minutes.
+
+"Lor,'" said Deborah again, "and I never knew. Do he put that name to
+that, mister?" she asked, pointing to the will.
+
+"Yes! It is signed Lemuel Krill," said Pash. "I wonder you didn't notice
+it at the moment."
+
+"Why, bless you, Mr. Pash, there weren't no moment," said Deborah, her
+hands on her hips as usual. "Master made that there will only a short
+time before he was killed."
+
+Pash nodded. "I note the date," said he, "all in order--quite."
+
+"Master," went on Deborah, looking at Paul, "never got over that there
+fainting fit you gave him with the serping brooch. And he writes out
+that will, and tells Bart and me to put our names to it. But he covered
+up his own name with a bit of red blotting-paper. I never thought but
+that he hadn't put Aaron Norman, which was his name."
+
+"It was not his name," said Pash. "His real name I have told you, and
+for years I have known the truth."
+
+"Do you know why he changed his name?" asked Beecot, quickly.
+
+"No, sir, I don't. And if I did, I don't know if it would be legal
+etiquette to reveal the reason to a stranger."
+
+"He's not a stranger," cried Sylvia, annoyed.
+
+"Well, then, to a young gentleman whom I have only seen twice. Why do
+you ask, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I was wondering if the change of name had anything to do with the
+murder," said Paul, hesitating.
+
+"How could it," said Pash, testily, "when the man never expected to be
+murdered?"
+
+"Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash, but you're all out," said Deborah.
+"Master did expect to have his throat cut, or his 'ead knocked orf, or
+his inside removed--"
+
+"Deborah," cried Paul, hastily, "you are making Sylvia nervous."
+
+"Don't you worrit, pretty," said the maiden, "it's only silly old
+Debby's way. But master, your par as was, my pretty, went to church and
+prayed awful against folk as he never named, to say nothin' of lookin'
+over the left shoulder blade and sleepin' in the cellar bolted and
+barred, and always with his eye on the ground sad like. Old Baileys and
+police-courts was in his mind, say what you like."
+
+"I say nothing," rejoined Pash, putting on his hat and hopping to the
+door. "Mr. Lemuel Krill did not honor me with his confidence so far. He
+came here, over twenty years ago and began business. I was then younger
+than I am, and he gave me his business because my charges were moderate.
+I know all about him as Aaron Norman," added Pash, with emphasis, "but
+as Lemuel Krill I, knowing nothing but the name, can say nothing. Nor do
+I want to. Young people," ended the lawyer, impressively, "let sleeping
+dogs lie."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Sylvia, looking startled.
+
+"Nothing--he means nothing," interposed Paul hastily, for the girl had
+undergone quite enough torments. "What about the change of name?"
+
+"Ah yes!" said the lawyer, inquiringly. "Will you call yourself Krill or
+Norman, Miss Sylvia?"
+
+"Seein' her name's to be changed to Beecot in a jiffy," cried Deborah,
+"it don't matter, and it sha'n't matter. You leave Krill and its old
+Baileys, if old Baileys there are in it, alone, my lovey, and be Miss
+Norman till the passon and the clark, and the bells and the ringers, and
+the lawr and the prophets turn you into the loveliest bride as ever
+was," and Deborah nodded vigorously.
+
+"I wish father had mentioned my name in his will," said Sylvia, in a low
+voice, "and then I should know what to call myself."
+
+Paul addressed the lawyer. "I know little about the legal aspect of this
+will"--
+
+"This amateur will," said Pash, slightingly.
+
+"But I should like to know if there will be any difficulty in proving
+it?"
+
+"I don't think so. I have not gone through all the safes below, and may
+come across the marriage certificate of Miss Krill's--I beg pardon, Miss
+Norman's--mother and father. Then there's the birth certificate. We must
+prove that Miss Sylvia is the daughter of my late esteemed client."
+
+"What's that?" shouted Deborah. "Why, I knowed her mother as died. She's
+the daughter right enough, and--"
+
+"There's no need to shout," chattered Pash, angrily. "I know that as
+well as you do; I must act, however, as reason dictates. I'll prove the
+will and see that all is right." Then, dreading Deborah's tongue he
+hastily added "Good-day," and left the room. But he was not to escape so
+easily. Deborah plunged after him and made scathing remarks about legal
+manners all the way down to the door.
+
+Paul and Sylvia left alone looked and smiled and fell into one another's
+arms. The will had been read and the money left to the girl, thereby the
+future was all right, so they thought that Pash's visit demanded no
+further attention. "He'll do all that is to be done," said Paul. "I
+don't see the use of keeping a dog and having to bark yourself."
+
+"And I'm really a rich woman, Paul," said Sylvia, gladly.
+
+"Really and truly, as I am a pauper. I think perhaps," said Beecot,
+sadly, "that you might make a better match than--"
+
+Sylvia put her pretty hand over his moustache. "I won't hear it, Paul,"
+she cried vehemently, with a stamp of her foot. "How dare you? As if you
+weren't all I have to love in the world now poor father--is--is de-a-d,"
+and she began to weep. "I did not love him as I ought to have done,
+Paul."
+
+"My own, he would not let you love him very much."
+
+"N-o-o," said Sylvia, drying her eyes on Paul's handkerchief, which he
+produced. "I don't know why. Sometimes he was nice, and sometimes he
+wasn't. I never could understand him, and you know, Paul, we didn't
+treat him nicely."
+
+"No," admitted Beecot, frankly, "but he forgave us."
+
+"Oh, yes, poor dear, he did! He was quite nice when he said we could
+marry and he would allow us money. You saw him?"
+
+"I did. He came to the hospital. Didn't he tell you when he returned,
+Sylvia?"
+
+"I never saw him," she wept. "He never came upstairs, but went out, and
+I went to bed. He left the door leading to the stairs open, too, on that
+night, a thing he never did before. And then the key of the shop. Bart
+used to hang it on a nail in the cellar and father would put it into his
+pocket after supper. Deborah couldn't find it in his clothes, and when
+she went afterwards to the cellar it was on the nail. On that night,
+Paul, father did everything different to what he usually did."
+
+"He seems to have had some mental trouble," said Paul, gently, "and I
+believe it was connected with that brooch. When he spoke to me at the
+hospital he said he would let you marry me, and would allow us an
+income, if I gave him the serpent brooch to take to America."
+
+"But why did he want the brooch?" asked Sylvia, puzzled.
+
+"Ah!" said Beecot, with great significance, "if we could find out his
+reason we would learn who killed him and why he was killed."
+
+Sylvia wept afresh on this reference to the tragedy which was yet fresh
+in her memory: but as weeping would not bring back the dead, and Paul
+was much distressed at the sight of her tears, she dried her eyes for
+the hundredth time within the last few days and sat again on the sofa by
+her lover. There they built castles in the air.
+
+"I tell you what, Sylvia," said Paul, reflectively; "after this will
+business is settled and a few weeks have elapsed, we can marry."
+
+"Oh, Paul, not for a year! Think of poor father's memory."
+
+"I do think of it, my darling, and I believe I am saying what your
+father himself would have said. The circumstances of the case are
+strange, as you are left with a lot of money and without a protector.
+You know I love you for yourself, and would take you without a penny,
+but unless we marry soon, and you give me a husband's right, you will be
+pestered by people wanting to marry you." Paul thought of Grexon Hay
+when he made this last remark.
+
+"But I wouldn't listen to them," cried Sylvia, with a flush, "and Debby
+would soon send them away. I love you dearest, dear."
+
+"Then marry me next month," said Paul, promptly. "You can't stop here in
+this dull house, and it will be awkward for you to go about with
+Deborah, faithful though she is. No, darling, let us marry, and then we
+shall go abroad for a year or two until all this sad business is
+forgotten. Then I hope by that time to become reconciled to my father,
+and we can visit Wargrove."
+
+Sylvia reflected. She saw that Paul was right, as her position was
+really very difficult. She knew of no lady who would chaperon her, and
+she had no relative to act as such. Certainly Deborah could be a
+chaperon, but she was not a lady, and Pash could be a guardian, but he
+was not a relative. Paul as her husband would be able to protect her,
+and to look after the property which Sylvia did not think she could do
+herself. These thoughts made her consent to an early marriage. "And I
+really don't think father would have minded."
+
+"I am quite sure we are acting as he would wish," said Beecot,
+decisively. "I am so thankful, Sylvia sweetest, that I met you and loved
+you before you became an heiress. No one can say that I marry you for
+anything save your own sweet self. And I am doubly glad that I am to
+marry you and save you from all the disagreeable things which might have
+occurred had you not been engaged to me."
+
+"I know, Paul. I am so young and inexperienced."
+
+"You are an angel," said he, embracing her. "But there's one thing we
+must do"--and his voice became graver--"we must see Pash and offer a
+reward for the discovery of the person who killed your father."
+
+"But Mr. Pash said let sleeping dogs lie," objected Sylvia.
+
+"I know he did, but out of natural affection, little as your poor father
+loved you, we must stir up this particular dog. I suggest that we offer
+a reward of five hundred pounds."
+
+"To whom?" asked Sylvia, thoroughly agreeing.
+
+"To anyone who can find the murderer. I think myself, that Hurd will be
+the man to gain the money. Apart from any reward he has to act on behalf
+of the Treasury, and besides, he is keen to discover the mystery. You
+leave the matter to me, Sylvia. We will offer a reward for the discovery
+of the murderer of--"
+
+"Aaron Norman," said Sylvia, quickly.
+
+"No," replied her lover, gravely, "of Lemuel Krill."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A BOLT FROM THE BLUE
+
+
+Paul's reason for advertising the name of Lemuel Krill was a very
+natural one. He believed that in the past of the dead man was to be
+found his reason for changing his name and living in Gwynne Street. And
+in that past before he became a second-hand bookseller and a secret
+pawnbroker might be found the motive for the crime. Therefore, if a
+reward was offered for the discovery of the murderer of Lemuel Krill,
+_alias_ Aaron Norman, something might come to light relative to the
+man's early life. Once that was known, the clue might be obtained. Then
+the truth would surely be discovered. He explained this to Hurd.
+
+"I think you're right, Mr. Beecot," said the detective, in his genial
+way, and looking as brown as a coffee bean. "I have made inquiries from
+the two servants, and from the neighbors, and from what customers I
+could find. Aaron Norman certainly lived a very quiet and respectable
+life here. But Lemuel Krill may have lived a very different one, and the
+mere fact that he changed his name shows that he had something to
+conceal. When we learn that something we may arrive at the motive for
+the murder, and, given that, the assassin may be caught."
+
+"The assassin!" echoed Paul. "Then you think there was only one."
+
+Hurd shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows?" he said. "I speak generally.
+From the strange circumstances of the crime I am inclined to think that
+there is more than one person concerned in this matter. However, the
+best thing to be done is to have hand-bills printed offering the five
+hundred pounds reward. People will do a lot to earn so much money, and
+someone may come forward with details about Mr. Krill which will solve
+the mystery of Norman's death."
+
+"I hope you will gain the reward yourself, Hurd."
+
+The detective nodded. "I hope so too. I have lately married the sweetest
+little wife in the world, and I want to keep her in the way she has been
+accustomed to be kept. She married beneath her, as I'm only a
+thief-catcher, and no very famous one either."
+
+"But if you solve this mystery it will do you a lot of good."
+
+"That it will," agreed Billy, heartily, "and it will mean advancement
+and extra screw: besides the reward if I can get it. You may be very
+sure, Mr. Beecot, that I'll do my best. Oh, by the way," he added, "have
+you heard that Mr. Pash is being asked for many of those jewels?"
+
+"No. Who are asking for them? Not that nautical man?"
+
+Hurd shook his head. "He's not such a fool," said he. "No! But the
+people who pledged the jewels are getting them back--redeeming them, in
+fact. Pash is doing all the business thoroughly well, and will keep what
+jewels remain for the time allowed by law, so that all those who wish to
+redeem them can do so. If not, they can be sold, and that will mean more
+money to Miss Norman--by the way, I presume she intends to remain Miss
+Norman."
+
+"Until I make her Mrs. Beecot," said Paul, smiling.
+
+"Well," replied Hurd, very heartily, "I trust you will both be happy. I
+think Miss Norman will get a good husband in you, and you will gain the
+sweetest wife in the world bar one."
+
+"Everyone thinks his own crow the whitest," laughed Beecot. "But now
+that business is ended and you know what you are to do, will you tell me
+plainly why you warned me against Grexon Hay?"
+
+"Hum," said the detective, looking at Paul with keen eyes, "what do you
+know about him, sir?"
+
+Beecot detailed his early friendship with Hay at Torrington, and then
+related the meeting in Oxford Street. "And so far as I have seen," added
+Paul, justly, "there's nothing about the man to make me think he is a
+bad lot."
+
+"It is natural you should think well of him as you know no wrong, Mr.
+Beecot. All the same, Grexon Hay is a man on the market."
+
+"You made use of that expression before. What does it mean?"
+
+"Ask Mr. Hay. He can explain best."
+
+"I did ask him, and he said it meant a man who was on the marriage
+market."
+
+Hurd laughed. "Very ingenious and untrue."
+
+"Untrue!"
+
+"Certainly. Mr. Hay knows better than that. If that were all he wouldn't
+think a working man would warn anyone against him."
+
+"He guessed you were not a working man," said Paul, "and intimated that
+he had a _liaison_ with a married woman, and that the husband had set
+you to watch."
+
+"Wrong again. My interest in Mr. Hay doesn't spring from divorce
+proceedings. He paints himself blacker than he is in that respect, Mr.
+Beecot. My gentleman is too selfish to love, and too cautious to commit
+himself to a divorce case where there would be a chance of damages. No!
+He's simply a man on the market, and what that is no one knows better
+than he does."
+
+"Well, I am ignorant."
+
+"You shall be enlightened, sir, and I hope what I tell you will lead you
+to drop this gentleman's acquaintance, especially now that you will be a
+rich man through your promised wife."
+
+"Miss Norman's money is her own," said Paul, with a quick flush. "I
+don't propose to live on what she inherits."
+
+"Of course not, because you are an honorable man. But I'll lay anything
+you like that Mr. Hay won't have your scruples, and as soon as he finds
+your wife is rich he'll try and get money from her through you."
+
+"He'll fail then," rejoined Beecot, calmly. "I am not up to your London
+ways, perhaps, but I am not quite such a fool. Perhaps you will
+enlighten me as you say."
+
+Hurd nodded and caught his smooth chin with his finger and thumb. "A man
+on the market," he explained slowly, "is a social highwayman."
+
+"I am still in the dark, Hurd."
+
+"Well, to be more particular, Hay is one of those well-dressed
+blackguards who live on mugs. He has no money--"
+
+"I beg your pardon, he told me himself that his uncle had left him a
+thousand a year."
+
+"Pooh, he might as well have doubled the sum and increased the value of
+the lie. He hasn't a penny. What he did have, he got through pretty
+quickly in order to buy his experience. Now that he is hard up he
+practises on others what was practised on himself. Hay is well-bred,
+good-looking, well-dressed and plausible. He has well-furnished rooms
+and keeps a valet. He goes into rather shady society, as decent people,
+having found him out, won't have anything to do with him. But he is a
+card-sharper and a fraudulent company-promoter. He'll borrow money from
+any juggins who is ass enough to lend it to him. He haunts Piccadilly,
+Bond Street and the Burlington Arcade, and is always smart, and bland,
+and fascinating. If he sees a likely victim he makes his acquaintance in
+a hundred ways, and then proceeds to fleece him. In a word, Mr. Beecot,
+you may put it that Mr. Hay is Captain Hawk, and those he swindles are
+pigeons."
+
+Paul was quite startled by this revelation, and it was painful to hear
+it of an old school friend. "He does not look like a man of that sort,"
+he remonstrated.
+
+"It's not his business to look like a man of that sort," rejoined the
+detective. "He masks his batteries. All the same he is one of the most
+dangerous men on the market at the present in town. A young peer whom he
+plucked two years ago lost everything to him, and got into trouble over
+some woman. It was a nasty case and Hay was mixed up in it. The
+relatives of the victim--I needn't give his title--asked me to put
+things right. I got the young nobleman away, and he is now travelling to
+acquire the sense he so sadly needed. I have given Mr. Hay a warning
+once or twice, and he knows that he is being watched by us. When he
+slips, as he is bound to do, sooner or later, then he'll have to deal
+with me. Oh I know how he hunts for clients in fashionable hotels, smart
+restaurants, theatres and such-like places. He is clever, and although
+he has fleeced several lambs since he plucked the pigeon I saved, he
+has, as yet, been too clever to be caught. When I saw you with him, Mr.
+Beecot, I thought it just as well to put you on your guard."
+
+"I fear he'll get little out of me," said Paul. "I am too poor."
+
+"You are rich now through your promised wife, and Hay will find it out."
+
+"I repeat that Miss Norman's money has nothing to do with me. And I may
+mention that as soon as the case is in your hands, Mr. Hurd--"
+
+"Which it is now," interpolated the detective.
+
+"I intend to marry Miss Norman and then we will travel for a time."
+
+"That's very wise of you. Give Hay a wide berth. Of course, if you meet
+him, you needn't tell him what I have told you. But when he tries to
+come Captain Hawk over you, be on your guard."
+
+"I shall, and thanks for the warning."
+
+So the two parted. Hurd went away to have the bills printed, and Paul
+returned to Gwynne Street to arrange with Sylvia about their early
+marriage. Deborah was in the seventh heaven of delight that her young
+mistress would soon be in a safe haven and enjoy the protection of an
+honorable man. Knowing that she would soon be relieved from care, she
+told Bart Tawsey that they would be married at the same time as the
+young couple, and that the laundry would be started as soon as Mr. and
+Mrs. Beecot left for the Continent. Bart, of course, agreed--he always
+did agree with Deborah--and so everything was nicely arranged.
+
+Meanwhile Pash worked to prove the will, pay the death-duties, and to
+place Sylvia in full possession of her property. He found in one of the
+safes the certificate of the girl's birth, and also the marriage
+certificate of Aaron Norman in the name of Lemuel Krill. The man
+evidently had his doubts of the marriage being a legal one if contracted
+under his _alias_. He had married Lillian Garner, who was described as a
+spinster. But who she was and where she came from, and what her position
+in life might be could not be discovered. Krill was married in a quiet
+city church, and Pash, having searched, found everything in order. Mrs.
+Krill--or Norman as she was known--lived only a year or two after her
+marriage, and then died, leaving Sylvia to the care of her husband.
+There were several nurses in succession, until Deborah grew old enough
+to attend alone on her young mistress. Then Norman dismissed the nurse,
+and Deborah had been Sylvia's slave and Aaron's servant until the tragic
+hour of his death. So, everything being in order, there was no
+difficulty in placing Sylvia in possession of her property.
+
+Pash was engaged in this congenial work for several weeks, and during
+that time all went smoothly. Paul paid daily visits to the Gwynne Street
+house, which was to be vacated as soon as he made Sylvia his wife.
+Deborah searched for her laundry and obtained the premises she wanted at
+a moderate rental. Sylvia basked in the sunshine of her future husband's
+love, and Hurd hunted for the assassin of the late Mr. Norman without
+success. The hand-bills with his portrait and real name, and a
+description of the circumstances of his death, were scattered broadcast
+over the country from Land's End to John-O'Groats, but hitherto no one
+had applied for the reward. The name of Krill seemed to be a rare one,
+and the dead man apparently had no relatives, for no one took the
+slightest interest in the bills beyond envying the lucky person who
+would gain the large reward offered for the conviction of the murderer.
+
+Then, one day Deborah, while cleaning out the cellar, found a piece of
+paper which had slipped down behind one of the safes. These had not been
+removed for many years, and the paper, apparently placed carelessly on
+top, had accidentally dropped behind. Deborah, always thinking something
+might reveal the past to Sylvia and afford a clue to the assassin,
+brought the paper to her mistress. It proved to be a few lines of a
+letter, commenced but never finished. But the few lines were of deep
+interest.
+
+"My dear daughter," these ran, "when I die you will find that I married
+your mother under the name of Lemuel Krill. That is my real name, but I
+wish you to continue to call yourself Norman for necessary reasons. If
+the name of Krill gets into the papers there will be great trouble. Keep
+it from the public. I can tell you where to find the reasons for this as
+I have written--" Here the letter ended abruptly without any signature.
+Norman apparently was writing it when interrupted, and had placed it
+unfinished on the top of the safe, whence it had fallen behind to be
+discovered by Deborah. And now it had strangely come to light, but too
+late for the request to be carried out.
+
+"Oh, Paul," said Sylvia, in dismay, when they read this together, "and
+the bills are already published with the real name of my father."
+
+"It is unfortunate," admitted Paul, frowning. "But, after all, your
+father may have been troubled unnecessarily. For over the fortnight the
+bills have been out and no one seems to take an interest in the matter."
+
+"But I think we ought to call the bills in," said Sylvia, uneasily.
+
+"That's not such an easy matter. They are scattered broadcast, and it
+will be next to impossible to collect them. Besides, the mischief is
+done. Everyone knows by this time that Aaron Norman is Lemuel Krill, so
+the trouble whatever it may be, must come."
+
+"What can it be?" asked the girl anxiously.
+
+Paul shook his head. "Heaven only knows," said he, with a heavy heart.
+"There is certainly something in your father's past life which he did
+not wish known and which led to his death. But since the blow has fallen
+and he is gone, I do not see how the matter can affect you, my darling.
+I'll show this to Pash and see what he says. I expect he knows more
+about your father's past than he will admit."
+
+"But if there should be trouble, Paul--"
+
+"You will have me to take it off your shoulders," he replied, kissing
+her. "My dearest, do not look so pale. Whatever may happen you will
+always have me to stand by you. And Deborah also. She is worth a
+regiment in her fidelity."
+
+So Sylvia was comforted, and Paul, putting the unfinished letter in his
+pocket, went round to see Pash in his Chancery Lane office. He was
+stopped in the outer room by a saucy urchin with an impudent face and a
+bold manner. "Mr. Pash is engaged," said this official, "so you'll 'ave
+to wait, Mr. Beecot."
+
+Paul looked down at the brat, who was curly-headed and as sharp as a
+needle. "How do you know my name?" he asked. "I never saw you before."
+
+"I'm the new office-boy," said the urchin, "wishin' to be respectable
+and leave street-'awking, which ain't what it was. M'name's Tray, an'
+I've seen you afore, mister. I 'elped to pull you out from them wheels
+with the 'aughty gent as guv me a bob fur doin' it."
+
+"Oh, so you helped," said Paul, smiling. "Well, here is another
+shilling. I am much obliged to you, Master Tray. But from what Deborah
+Junk says you were a guttersnipe. How did you get this post?"
+
+"I talked m'self int' it," said Tray, importantly. "Newspapers ain't
+good enough, and you gets pains in wet weather. So I turns a good
+boy"--he grinned evilly--"and goes to a ragged kids' school to do the
+'oly. The superintendent ses I'm a promising case, and he arsked Mr.
+Pash, as is also Sunday inclined, to 'elp me. The orfice-boy 'ere went,
+and I come." Tray tossed the shilling and spat on it for luck as he
+slipped it into the pocket of quite a respectable pair of trousers. "So
+I'm on m'waiy to bein' Lord Mayor turn agin Wittington, as they ses in
+the panymine."
+
+"Well," said Beecot, amused, "I hope you will prove yourself worthy."
+
+Tray winked. "Ho! I'm straight es long es it's wuth m'while. I takes
+m'sal'ry 'ome to gran, and don't plaiy pitch an' torse n'more." He
+winked again, and looked as wicked a brat as ever walked.
+
+Paul had his doubts as to what the outcome of Mr. Pash's charity would
+be, and, being amused, was about to pursue the conversation, when the
+inner door opened and Pash, looking troubled, appeared. When he saw Paul
+he started and came forward.
+
+"I was just about to send Tray for you," said he, looking anxious.
+"Something unpleasant has come to light in connection with Krill."
+
+Beecot started and brought out the scrap of paper. "Look at that," he
+said, "and you will see that the man warned Sylvia."
+
+Pash glanced hurriedly over the paper. "Most unfortunate," he said,
+folding it up and puffing out his cheeks; "but it's too late. The name
+of Krill was in those printed bills--a portrait also, and now--"
+
+"Well, what?" asked Paul, seeing the lawyer hesitated.
+
+"Come inside and you'll see," said Pash, and conducted Beecot into the
+inner room.
+
+Here sat two ladies. The elder was a woman of over fifty, but who looked
+younger, owing to her fresh complexion and plump figure. She had a firm
+face, with hard blue eyes and a rather full-lipped mouth. Her hair was
+white, and there was a great deal of it. Under a widow's cap it was
+dressed _a la_ Marie Antoinette, and she looked very handsome in a
+full-blown, flowery way. She had firm, white hands, rather large, and,
+as she had removed her black gloves, these, Paul saw, were covered with
+cheap rings. Altogether a respectable, well-dressed widow, but evidently
+not a lady.
+
+Nor was the girl beside her, who revealed sufficient similarity of
+features to announce herself the daughter of the widow. There was the
+same fresh complexion, full red lips and hard blue eyes. But the hair
+was of a golden color, and fashionably dressed. The young woman--she
+likewise was not a lady--was also in black.
+
+"This," said Pash, indicating the elder woman, who smiled, "is Mrs.
+Lemuel Krill."
+
+"The wife of the man who called himself Aaron Norman," went on the
+widow; "and this," she indicated her daughter, "is his heiress."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A CUCKOO IN THE NEST
+
+
+Paul looked from the fresh-colored woman who spoke so smoothly and so
+firmly to the apish lawyer hunched in his chair with a sphinx-like look
+on his wrinkled face. For the moment, so taken aback was he by this
+astounding announcement, that he could not speak. The younger woman
+stared at him with her hard blue eyes, and a smile played round her full
+lips. The mother also looked at him in an engaging way, as though she
+rather admired his youthful comeliness in spite of his well-brushed,
+shabby apparel.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," said Beecot at length, "Mr. Pash?"
+
+The lawyer aroused himself to make a concise statement of the case. "So
+far as I understand," he said in his nervous, irritable way, "these
+ladies claim to be the wife and daughter of Lemuel Krill, whom we knew
+as Aaron Norman."
+
+"And I think by his real name also," said the elder woman in her deep,
+smooth contralto voice, and with the display of an admirable set of
+teeth. "The bills advertising the reward, and stating the fact of the
+murder, bore my late husband's real name."
+
+"Norman was not your husband, madam," cried Paul, indignantly.
+
+"I agree with you, sir. Lemuel Krill was my husband. I saw in the
+newspapers, which penetrate even into the quiet little Hants village I
+live in, that Aaron Norman had been murdered. I never thought he was
+the man who had left me more than twenty years ago with an only child to
+bring up. But the bills offering the reward assured me that Norman and
+Krill are one and the same man. Therefore," she drew herself up and
+looked piercingly at the young man, "I have come to see after the
+property. I understand from the papers that my daughter is an heiress to
+millions."
+
+"Not millions," said Pash, hastily. "The newspapers have exaggerated the
+amount. Five thousand a year, madam, and it is left to Sylvia."
+
+"Who is Sylvia?" asked Mrs. Krill, in the words of Shakespeare's song.
+
+"She is the daughter of Mr. Norman," said Paul, quickly, "and is engaged
+to marry me."
+
+Mrs. Krill's eyes travelled over his shabby suit from head to foot, and
+then back again from foot to head. She glanced sideways at her
+companion, and the girl laughed in a hard, contemptuous manner. "I fear
+you will be disappointed in losing a rich wife, sir," said the elder
+woman, sweetly.
+
+"I have not lost the money yet," replied Paul, hotly. "Not that I care
+for the money."
+
+"Of course not," put in Mrs. Krill, ironically, with another look at his
+dress.
+
+"But I _do_ care for Sylvia Norman--"
+
+"With whom I have nothing to do."
+
+"She is your husband's daughter."
+
+"But not mine. This is my daughter, Maud--the legal daughter of Lemuel
+and myself," she added meaningly.
+
+"Good heavens, madam," cried Beecot, his face turning white, "what do
+you mean?"
+
+Mrs. Krill raised her thick white eyebrows, and shrugged her plump
+shoulders, and made a graceful motion with her white, be-ringed hand.
+"Is there any need for me to explain?" she said calmly.
+
+"I think there is every need," cried Beecot, sharply. "I shall not allow
+Miss Norman to lose her fortune or--"
+
+"Or lose it yourself, sir. I quite understand. Nevertheless, I am
+assured that the law of the land will protect, through me, my daughter's
+rights. She leaves it in my hands."
+
+"Yes," said the girl, in a voice as full and rich and soft as her
+smooth-faced mother, "I leave it in her hands."
+
+Paul sat down and concealed his face with a groan. He was thinking not
+so much of the loss of the money, although that was a consideration, as
+of the shame Sylvia would feel at her position. Then a gleam of hope
+darted into his mind. "Mr. Norman was married to Sylvia's mother under
+his own name. You can't prove the marriage void."
+
+"I have no wish to. When did this marriage take place?"
+
+Beecot looked at the lawyer, who replied. "Twenty-two years ago," and he
+gave the date.
+
+Mrs. Krill fished in a black morocco bag she carried and brought out a
+shabby blue envelope. "I thought this might be needed," she said,
+passing it to Pash. "You will find there my marriage certificate. I
+became the wife of Lemuel Krill thirty years ago. And, as I am still
+living, I fear the later marriage--" She smiled blandly and shrugged her
+shoulders again. "Poor girl!" she said with covert insolence.
+
+"Sylvia does not need your pity," cried Beecot, stung by the
+insinuation.
+
+"Indeed, sir," said Mrs. Krill, sadly, and with the look of a
+treacherous cat, "I fear she needs the pity of all right-thinking
+people. Many would speak harshly of her, seeing what she is, but my
+troubles have taught me charity. I repeat that I am sorry for the girl."
+
+"And again I say there is no need," rejoined Paul, throwing back his
+head; "and you forget, madam, there is a will."
+
+Mrs. Krill's fresh color turned to a dull white, and her hard eyes shot
+fire. "A will," she said slowly. "I shall dispute the will if it is not
+in my favor. I am the widow of this man and I claim full justice.
+Besides," she went on, wetting her full lips with her tongue, "I
+understood from the newspapers that the money was left to Mr. Krill's
+daughter."
+
+"Certainly. To Sylvia Krill."
+
+"Norman, sir. She has no right to any other name. But I really do not
+see why I should explain myself to you, sir. If you choose to give this
+girl your name you will be doing a good act. At present the poor
+creature is--nobody." She let the last word drop from her lips slowly,
+so as to give Paul its full sting.
+
+Beecot said nothing. He could not dispute what she said. If this woman
+could prove the marriage of thirty years ago, then Krill, or Norman as
+he called himself, had committed bigamy, and, in the hard eyes of the
+law, Sylvia was nobody's child. And that the marriage could be proved
+Paul saw well enough from the looks of the lawyer, who was studying the
+certificate which he had drawn from the shabby blue envelope. "Then the
+will--the money is left to Sylvia," he said with obstinacy. "I shall
+defend her rights."
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Krill, significantly. "I understand that a wife
+with five thousand--"
+
+"I would marry Sylvia without a penny."
+
+"Indeed, sir, that is the only way in which you can marry her. If you
+like I shall allow her twenty pounds for a trousseau."
+
+Paul rose and flung back his head again. "You have not got the money
+yet, madam," he said defiantly.
+
+Not at all disturbed, Mrs. Krill smiled her eternal smile. "I am here
+to get it. There is a will, you say," she added, turning to Pash. "And I
+understand from this gentleman," she indicated Beecot slightly, "that
+the money is left to Mr. Krill's daughter. Does he name Maud or Sylvia?"
+
+Pash slapped down the certificate irritably. "He names no one. The will
+is a hasty document badly worded, and simply leaves all the testator
+died possessed of to--my daughter."
+
+"Which of course means Maud here. I congratulate you, dear," she said,
+turning to the girl, who looked happy and flushed. "Your father has made
+up to us both for his cruelty and desertion."
+
+Seeing that there was nothing to be said, Paul went to the door. But
+there his common sense left him and he made a valedictory speech. "I
+know that Mr. Krill left the money to Sylvia."
+
+"Oh, no," said the widow, "to his daughter, as I understand the wording
+of the will runs. In that case this nameless girl has nothing."
+
+"Pash!" cried Beecot, turning despairingly to the little solicitor.
+
+The old man shook his head and sucked in his cheeks. "I am sorry, Mr.
+Beecot," said he, in a pitying tone, "but as the will stands the money
+must certainly go to the child born in wedlock. I have the certificate
+here," he laid his monkey paw on it, "but of course I shall make
+inquiries."
+
+"By all means," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. "My daughter and myself
+have lived for many years in Christchurch, Hants. We keep the inn
+there--not the principal inn, but a small public-house on the outskirts
+of the village. It will be a change for us both to come into five
+thousand a year after such penury. Of course, Mr. Pash, you will act for
+my daughter and myself."
+
+"Mr. Pash acts for Sylvia," cried Paul, still lingering at the door. The
+lawyer was on the horns of a dilemma. "If what Mrs. Krill says is true
+I can't dispute the facts," he said irritably, "and I am unwilling to
+give up the business. Prove to me, ma'am, that you are the lawful widow
+of my late client, and that this is my late esteemed client's lawful
+daughter, and I will act for you."
+
+Mrs. Krill's ample bosom rose and fell and her eyes glittered
+triumphantly. She cast a victorious glance at Beecot. But that young man
+was looking at the solicitor. "Rats leave the sinking ship," said he,
+bitterly; "you will not prosper, Pash."
+
+"Everyone prospers who protects the widow and the orphan," said Pash, in
+a pious tone, and so disgusted Paul that he closed the door with a bang
+and went out. Tray was playing chuck-farthing at the door and keeping
+Mr. Grexon Hay from coming in.
+
+"You there, Beecot?" said this gentleman, coldly. "I wish you would tell
+this brat to let me enter."
+
+"Brat yourself y' toff," cried Tray, pocketing his money. "Ain't I
+a-doin' as my master tells me? He's engaged with two pretty women"--he
+leered in a way which made Paul long to box his ears--"so I don't spile
+sport. You've got tired of them, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"How do you know Mr. Beecot's name?" asked Hay, calmly.
+
+"Lor', sir. Didn't you and me pull him from under the wheels?"
+
+"Oh," said Grexon, suddenly enlightened, "were you the boy? Since you
+have washed your face I didn't recognize you. Well, Beecot, you look
+disturbed."
+
+"I have reason to. And since you and this boy pulled me from under the
+wheels of the motor," said Paul, glancing from one to the other, "I
+should like to know what became of the brooch."
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," said Grexon, quietly. "We talked of this
+before. I gave it as my opinion, if you remember, that it was picked up
+in the street by the late Aaron Norman and was used to seal his mouth.
+At least that is the only way in which I can conjecture you lost it."
+
+"You never saw it drop from my pocket?"
+
+"I should have picked it up and returned it had I seen it," said Hay,
+fixing his eye-glass. "Perhaps this boy saw it."
+
+"Saw what?" asked Tray, who was listening with both his large ears.
+
+"An old blue-velvet case with a brooch inside," said Beecot, quickly.
+
+Tray shook his head vigorously. "If I'd seen it I' ha' nicked it," he
+said impudently; "catch me givin' it back t' y', Mr. Beecot. There's a
+cove I knows--a fence that is--as 'ud give me lots fur it. Lor'," said
+Tray, with deep disappointment, "to think as that dropped out of your
+pocket and I never grabbed it. Wot crewel luck--ho!" and he spat.
+
+Paul looked hard at the boy, who met his gaze innocently enough.
+Apparently he spoke in all seriousness, and really lamented the lost
+chance of gaining a piece of jewellery to make money out of. Moreover,
+had he stolen the brooch, he would hardly have talked so openly of the
+fence he alluded to. Hay the young man could not suspect, as there was
+positively no reason why he should steal so comparatively trifling an
+article. Sharper as he was, Hay flew at higher game, and certainly would
+not waste his time, or risk his liberty, in stealing what would bring
+him in only a few shillings.
+
+"Why don't you ask the detectives to search for the brooch," said Hay,
+smiling.
+
+"It is in the detective's possession," said Paul, sullenly; "but we want
+to know how it came to pin Norman's lips together."
+
+"I can't imagine, unless he picked it up. If lost at all it must have
+been lost in the street the old man lived in, and you told me he wanted
+the brooch badly."
+
+"But he wasn't on the spot?"
+
+"Wot," cried Tray, suddenly, "the one-eyed cove? Ho, yuss, but warn't
+he? Why, when they was a-gitin' the ambulance, an' the peelers wos
+a-crowdin' round, he come dancing like billeo out of his shorp."
+
+Beecot thought this was strange, as he understood from Deborah and Bart
+and Sylvia that Norman had known nothing of the accident at the time.
+Then again Norman himself had not mentioned it when he paid that visit
+to the hospital within a few hours of his death. "I don't think that's
+true," he said to Tray sharply.
+
+"Oh, cuss it," said that young gentleman, "wot d' I care. Th' ole cove
+come an' danced in the mud, and then he gits int' his shorp again. Trew
+is trew, saiy wot y' like, mister--ho."
+
+Beecot turned his back on the boy. After all, he was not worth arguing
+with, and a liar by instinct. Still, in this case he might have spoken
+the truth. Norman might have appeared on the scene of the accident and
+have picked up the brooch. Paul thought he would tell Hurd this, and,
+meantime, held out his hand to Hay. In spite of the bad character he had
+heard of that young man, he saw no reason why he should not be civil to
+him, until he found him out. Meantime, he was on his guard.
+
+"One moment," said Grexon, grasping the outstretched hand. "I have
+something to say to you," and he walked a little way with Paul. "I am
+going in to see Pash on business which means a little money to me. I was
+the unfortunate cause of your accident, Beecot, so I think you might
+accept twenty pounds or so from me."
+
+"No, thank you all the same," said Paul gratefully, yet with a certain
+amount of caution. "I can struggle along. After all, it was an
+accident."
+
+"A very unfortunate one," said Hay, more heartily than usual. "I shall
+never forgive myself. Is your arm all right?"
+
+"Oh, much better. I'll be quite cured in a week or so."
+
+"And meantime how do you live?"
+
+"I manage to get along," replied Paul, reservedly. He did not wish to
+reveal the nakedness of the land to such a doubtful acquaintance.
+
+"You are a hard-hearted sort of chap," said Hay coldly, but rather
+annoyed at his friendly advances being flouted. "Well, then, if you
+won't accept a loan, let me help you in another way. Come and dine at my
+rooms. I have a young publisher coming also, and if you meet him he will
+be able to do something for you. He's under obligations to me, and you
+may be certain I'll use all my influence in your favor. Come now--next
+Tuesday--that's a week off--you can't have any engagement at such a long
+notice."
+
+Paul smiled. "I never do have any engagements," he said with his boyish
+smile, "thank you. I'll look in if I can. But I am in trouble,
+Grexon--very great trouble."
+
+"You shouldn't be," said Hay, smiling. "I know well enough why you will
+not accept my loan. The papers say Sylvia, your Dulcinea, has inherited
+a million. You are to marry her. Unless," said Hay, suddenly, "this
+access of wealth has turned her head and she has thrown you over. Is she
+that sort of girl?"
+
+"No," said Paul quietly, "she is as true to me as I am to her. But you
+are mistaken as to the million. It is five thousand a year, and she may
+not even inherit that."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I am not at liberty to say. But with regard to your dinner," added
+Paul, hastily changing the conversation, "I'll come if I can get my
+dress-suit out of pawn."
+
+"Then I count on you," said Hay, blandly, "though you will not let me
+help you to obtain the suit. However, this publisher will do a lot for
+you. By Jove, what a good-looking girl."
+
+He said this under his breath. Miss Maud Krill appeared on the doorstep
+where the two young men stood and stumbled against Grexon in passing.
+His hat was off at once, and he apologized profusely. Miss Krill, who
+seemed a young woman of few words, as Paul thought from her silence in
+the office, smiled and bowed, but passed on, without saying a "thank
+you." Mrs. Krill followed, escorted by the treacherous Pash who was all
+smiles and hand-washings and bows. Apparently he was quite convinced
+that the widow's story was true, and Paul felt sick at the news he would
+have to tell Sylvia. Pash saw the young man, and meeting his indignant
+eyes darted back into his office like a rabbit into its burrow. The
+widow sailed out in her calm, serene way, without a look at either Paul
+or his companion. Yet the young man had an instinct that she saw them
+both.
+
+"That's the mother I expect," said Hay, putting his glass firmly into
+his eye; "a handsome pair. Gad, Paul, that young woman--eh?"
+
+"Perhaps you'd like to marry her," said Paul, bitterly.
+
+Hay drew himself up stiffly. "I don't marry stray young women I see on
+the street, however attractive," he said in his cold voice. "I don't
+know either of these ladies."
+
+"Pash will introduce you if you make it worth his while."
+
+"Why the deuce should I," retorted Hay, staring.
+
+"Well," said Beecot, impulsively telling the whole of the misfortune
+that had befallen him, "that is the wife and that is the daughter of
+Aaron Norman, _alias_ Krill. The daughter inherits five thousand a year,
+so marry her and be happy."
+
+"But your Dulcinea?" asked Grexon, dropping his eye-glass in amazement.
+
+"She has me and poverty," said Paul, turning away. Nor could the quiet
+call of Hay make him stop. But at the end of the street he looked back,
+and saw Grexon entering the office of the lawyer. If Hay was the man
+Hurd said he was, Paul guessed that he would inquire about the heiress
+and marry her too, if her banking account was large and safe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE NEW LIFE
+
+
+For obvious reasons Beecot did not return to Gwynne Street. It was
+difficult to swallow this bitter pill which Providence had administered.
+In place of an assured future with Sylvia, he found himself confronted
+with his former poverty, with no chance of marrying the girl, and with
+the obligation of telling her that she had no right to any name. Paul
+was by no means a coward, and his first impulse was to go at once and
+inform Sylvia of her reverse of fortune. But it was already late, and he
+thought it would be only kind to withhold the bad news till the morrow,
+and thus avoid giving the disinherited girl a tearful and wakeful night.
+Therefore, after walking the Embankment till late, Paul went to his
+garret.
+
+To the young man's credit it must be said that he cared very little for
+the loss of the money, although he grieved on Sylvia's account. Had he
+been able to earn a small income, he would have married the girl and
+given her the protection of his name without the smallest hesitation.
+But he was yet unknown to fame; he was at variance with his father, and
+he could scarcely bring Sylvia to share his bitter poverty--which might
+grow still more bitter in that cold and cheerless garret.
+
+Then there was another thing to consider. Paul had written to his father
+explaining the circumstances of his engagement to Sylvia, and asking
+for the paternal blessing. To gain this, he mentioned that his promised
+wife had five thousand a year. Bully and tyrant as Beecot senior was, he
+loved money, and although well off, was always on the alert to have more
+brought into the family. With the bribe of a wealthy wife, Paul had
+little doubt but what the breach would be healed, and Sylvia welcomed as
+the sweetest and most desirable daughter-in-law in the world. Then Paul
+fancied the girl would be able to subdue with her gentle ways the
+stubborn heart of his father, and would also be able to make Mrs. Beecot
+happy. Indeed, he had received a letter from his mother congratulating
+him on his wealthy match, for the good lady wished to see Paul
+independent of the domestic tyrant. Also Mrs. Beecot had made many
+inquiries about Sylvia's goodness and beauty, and hoped that he had
+chosen wisely, and hinted that no girl living was worthy of her son,
+after the fashion of mothers. Paul had replied to this letter setting
+forth his own unworthiness and Sylvia's perfections, and Mrs. Beecot had
+accepted the good news with joy. But the letter written to Beecot senior
+was yet unanswered, and Paul began to think that not even the chance of
+having a rich daughter-in-law would prevail against the obstinacy of the
+old gentleman.
+
+But when he reached his garret, after that lonely and tormenting walk on
+the Embankment, he found a letter from his father, and opened it with
+some trepidation. It proved to contain joyful news. Mr. Beecot thanked
+Heaven that Paul was not such a fool as he had been of yore, and hinted
+that this sudden access of sense which had led him to engage himself to
+a wealthy girl had come from his father and not from his mother.
+He--Beecot senior--was aware that Paul had acted badly, and had not
+remembered what was due to the best of fathers; but since he was
+prepared to settle down with a rich wife, Beecot senior nobly forgave
+the past and Paul's many delinquences (mentioned in detail) and would be
+glad to welcome his daughter-in-law. Then Beecot, becoming the tyrant
+again, insisted that the marriage should take place in Wargrove, and
+that the fact of Sylvia's father being murdered should be suppressed. In
+fact, the old gentleman left nothing to the young couple, but arranged
+everything in his own selfish way, even to choosing, in Wargrove, the
+house they would inhabit. The house, he mentioned, was one of his own
+which could not be let on account of some trivial tale of a ghost, and
+Mr. Beecot would give this as a marriage gift to Paul, thus getting rid
+of an unprofitable property and playing the part of a generous father at
+one and the same time. In spite of his bucolic ways and pig-headed
+obstinacy and narrow views, Beecot senior possessed a certain amount of
+cunning which Paul read in every line of the selfish letter before him.
+
+However, the main point was, that the old gentleman seemed ready to
+overlook the past and to receive Sylvia. Paul wanted to return to his
+home, not so much on account of his father, as because he wished to
+smooth the remaining years of his mother, and he knew well that Sylvia
+with her gentle ways and heart of gold would make Mrs. Beecot happy. So
+long as Paul loved the girl he wished to marry, the mother was happy;
+but Beecot senior had an eye to the money, and thus was ready to be
+bribed into forgiveness and decent behavior. Now all this was altered.
+From the tone of the letter, Paul knew his father would never consent to
+his marrying a girl not only without a name, but lacking the fortune
+which alone rendered her desirable in his eyes. Still, the truth would
+have to be told, and if Beecot senior refused to approve of the
+marriage, the young couple would have to do without his sanction. The
+position, thought Paul, would only make him work the harder, so that
+within a reasonable time he might be able to provide a home for Sylvia.
+
+So, the young man facing the situation, bravely wrote to his father and
+explained how the fortune had passed from Sylvia, but declared, with all
+the romance of youth, that he intended to marry the girl all the same.
+If Beecot senior, said Paul, would permit the marriage, and allow the
+couple a small income until the husband could earn enough to keep the
+pot boiling, the writer would be grateful. If not, Paul declared firmly
+that he would work like a slave to make a home for his darling. But
+nothing in the world would make him give up Sylvia. This was the letter
+to his father, and then Paul wrote one to his mother, detailing the
+circumstances and imploring her to stand by him, although in his own
+sinking heart he felt that Mrs. Beecot was but a frail reed on which to
+lean. He finished these letters and posted them before midnight. Then he
+went to bed and dreamed that the bad news was all moonshine, and that
+Sylvia and he were a happy rich married pair.
+
+But the cold grey searching light of dawn brought the actual state of
+things again to his mind and so worried him that he could hardly eat any
+breakfast. He spent the morning in writing a short tale, for which he
+had been promised a couple of sovereigns, and took it to the office of
+the weekly paper which had accepted it, on his way to Gwynne Street.
+Paul's heart was heavy, thinking of what he had to tell, but he did not
+intend to let Sylvia see that he was despondent. On turning down the
+street he raised his head, assumed a smile and walked with a confident
+step into the shop.
+
+As he entered he heard a heavy woman plunge down the stairs, and found
+his arm grasped by Deborah, very red-faced and very furious, the moment
+he crossed the threshold. Bart could be heard knocking boxes together in
+the cellar, as he was getting Deborah's belongings ready for removal to
+Jubileetown, where the cottage, and the drying ground for the laundry,
+had already been secured through Pash. But Paul had no time to ask what
+was going on. A glance at the hand-maiden's tearful face revealed that
+she knew the worst, in which case Sylvia must also have heard the news.
+
+"Yes," cried Deborah, seeing the sudden whiteness of Paul's cheeks, and
+shaking him so much as to hurt his injured arm, "she knows, she do--oh,
+lor', bless us that things should come to this--and there she's settin'
+a-crying out her beautiful eyes for you, Mr. Beecot. Thinking of your
+throwin' her over, and if you do," shouted Deborah, with another shake,
+"you'd better ha' bin smashed to a jelly than face me in my presingt
+state. Seein' you from the winder I made bold to come down and arsk your
+intentings; for if them do mean no marriage and the breaking of my
+pretty's 'eart, never shall she set eyes agin on a double-faced Jonah,
+and--and--" Here Deborah gasped for breath and again shook Paul.
+
+"Deborah," he said, in a quiet voice, releasing himself, "I love Sylvia
+for herself and not for her money."
+
+Deborah threw her brawny arms in the air and her apron over her red
+head. "I knowed it--oh, yuss, indeed," she sobbed in muffled tones. "Ses
+I, I ses, Mr. Paul's a gentleman whatever his frantic par may be and
+marry you, my own lovey, he will, though not able to afford the marriage
+fees, the same as will come out of Debby's pocket, though the laundry go
+by the board. 'Eaven knows what we'll live on all the same, pore wurkhus
+ijets as me an' Bart are, not bein' able to make you an' Miss Sylvia
+'appy. Miss Sylvia Krill an' Norman both," ended Deborah with emphasis,
+"whatever that smooth cat with the grin and the clawses may say, drat
+her fur a slimy tabby--yah!"
+
+"I see you know all," said Paul, as soon as he could slip in a word.
+
+"Know all," almost yelled Deborah, dragging down the apron and revealing
+flashing eyes, "and it's a mussy I ain't in Old Bailey this very day for
+scratching that monkey of a Pash. Oh, if I'd known wot he wos never
+should he 'ave got me the laundry, though the same may have to go, worse
+luck. Ho, yuss! he come, and she come with her kitting, as is almost as
+big a cat as she is. Mrs. Krill, bless her, oh, yuss, Mrs. Krill, the
+sneakin', smiling Jezebel."
+
+"Did she see Sylvia?" asked Beecot, sharply.
+
+"Yuss, she did," admitted Deborah, "me lettin' her in not knowin' her
+scratchin's. An' the monkey an' the kitting come too--a-spyin' out the
+land as you may say. W'en I 'eard the noos I 'owled Mr. Paul, but my
+pretty she turned white like one of them plaster stateys as boys sell
+cheap in the streets, and ses she, she ses, 'Oh Paul'--if you'll forgive
+me mentioning your name, sir, without perliteness."
+
+"Bless her, my darling. Did she think of me," said Beecot, tenderly.
+
+"Ah, when do she not think of you, sir? 'Eart of gold, though none in
+her pocket by means of that Old Bailey woman as is a good match fur my
+Old Bailey master. Ho! he wos a bad 'un, and 'ow Miss Sylvia ever come
+to 'ave sich a par beats me. But I thank 'eaven the cat ain't my
+pretty's mar, though she do 'ave a daughter of her own, the painted,
+stuck-up parcel of bad bargains."
+
+Paul nodded. "Calling names won't do any good, Deborah," he said sadly;
+"we must do the best we can."
+
+"There ain't no chance of the lawr gettin' that woman to the gallers I
+'spose, sir?"
+
+"The woman is your late master's lawful wife. Pash seems to think so and
+has gone over to the enemy"--here Deborah clenched her mighty fists and
+gasped. "Sylvia's mother was married later, and as the former wife is
+alive Sylvia is--"
+
+"No," shouted Deborah, flinging out her hand, "don't say it."
+
+"Sylvia is poor," ended Paul, calmly. "What did you think I was about to
+say, Deborah?"
+
+"What that cat said, insulting of my pretty. But I shoved her out of the
+door, tellin' her what she were. She guv me and Bart and my own sunbeam
+notice to quit," gasped Deborah, almost weeping, "an' quit we will this
+very day, Bart bein' a-packin' at this momingt. 'Ear 'im knocking, and I
+wish he wos a-knockin' at Mrs. Krill's 'ead, that I do, the flauntin'
+hussy as she is, drat her."
+
+"I'll go up and see Sylvia. No, Deborah, don't you come for a few
+minutes. When you do come we'll arrange what is to be done."
+
+Deborah nodded acquiescence. "Take my lovely flower in your arms, sir,"
+she said, following him to the foot of the stairs, "and tell her as your
+'eart is true, which true I knowed it would be."
+
+Beecot was soon in the sitting-room and found Sylvia on the sofa, her
+face buried in her hands. She looked up when she recognized the beloved
+footsteps and sprang to her feet. The next moment she was sobbing her
+heart out on Paul's faithful breast, and he was comforting her with all
+the endearing names he could think of.
+
+"My own, my sweet, my dearest darling," whispered Paul, smoothing the
+pretty brown hair, "don't weep. You have lost much, but you have me."
+
+"Dear," she wept, "do you think it is true?"
+
+"I am afraid it is, Sylvia. However, I know a young lawyer, who is a
+friend of mine, and I'll speak to him."
+
+"But Paul, though my mother may not have been married to my father--"
+
+"She _was_, Sylvia, but Mrs. Krill was married to him earlier. Your
+father committed bigamy, and you, poor child, have to pay the penalty."
+
+"Well, even if the marriage is wrong, the money was left to us."
+
+"To you, dear," said Beecot, leading her to the sofa, "that is, the
+money was left in that loosely-worded will to 'my daughter.' We all
+thought it was you, but now this legal wife has come on the scene, the
+money must go to her daughter. Oh, Sylvia," cried Paul, straining her to
+his breast, "how foolish your father was not to say the money was left
+to 'my daughter Sylvia.' Then everything would have been right. But the
+absence of the name is fatal. The law will assume that the testator
+meant his true daughter."
+
+"And am I not his true daughter?" she asked, her lips quivering.
+
+"You are my own darling, Sylvia," murmured Paul, kissing her hair;
+"don't let us talk of the matter. I'll speak to my lawyer friend, but I
+fear from the attitude of Pash that Mrs. Krill will make good her claim.
+Were there a chance of keeping you in possession of the money, Pash
+would never have left you so easily."
+
+"I am so sorry about the money on your account, Paul."
+
+"My own," he said cheerily, "money is a good thing, and I wish we could
+have kept the five thousand a year. But I have you, and you have me, and
+although we cannot marry for a long time yet--"
+
+"Not marry, Paul! Oh, why not?"
+
+"Dearest, I am poor, I cannot drag you down to poverty."
+
+Sylvia looked at him wide-eyed. "I am poor already." She looked round
+the room. "Nothing here is mine. I have only a few clothes. Mr. Pash
+said that Mrs. Krill would take everything. Let me marry you, darling,"
+she whispered coaxingly, "and we can live in your garret. I will cook
+and mend, and be your own little wife."
+
+Beecot groaned. "Don't tempt me, Sylvia," he said, putting her away, "I
+dare not marry you. Why, I have hardly enough to pay the fees. No, dear,
+you must go with Debby to her laundry, and I'll work night and day to
+make enough for us to live on. Then we'll marry, and--"
+
+"But your father, Paul?"
+
+"He won't do anything. He consented to our engagement, but solely, I
+believe, because he thought you were rich. Now, when he knows you are
+poor--and I wrote to tell him last night--he will forbid the match."
+
+"Paul!" She clung to him in sick terror.
+
+"My sweetest"--he caught her in his arms--"do you think a dozen fathers
+would make me give you up? No, my love of loves--my soul, my heart of
+hearts--come good, come ill, we will be together. You can stay with
+Debby at Jubileetown until I make enough to welcome you to a home,
+however humble. Dear, be hopeful, and trust in the God who brought us
+together. He is watching over us, and, knowing that, why need we fear?
+Don't cry, darling heart."
+
+"I'm not crying for crying," sobbed Sylvia, hiding her face on his
+breast and speaking incoherently; "but I'm so happy--"
+
+"In spite of the bad news?" asked Paul, laughing gently.
+
+"Yes--yes--to think that you should still wish to marry me. I am
+poor--I--I--have--no name, and--"
+
+"Dearest, you will soon have my name."
+
+"But Mrs. Krill said--"
+
+"I don't want to hear what she said," cried Paul, impetuously; "she is a
+bad woman. I can see badness written all over her smiling face. We
+won't think of her. When you leave here you won't see her again. My own
+dear little sweetheart," whispered Paul, tenderly, "when you leave this
+unhappy house, let the bad past go. You and I will begin a new life.
+Come, don't cry, my pet. Here's Debby."
+
+Sylvia looked up, and threw herself into the faithful servant's arms.
+"Oh, Debby, he loves me still; he's going to marry me whenever he can."
+
+Deborah laughed and wiped Sylvia's tears away with her coarse apron,
+tenderly. "You silly flower," she cried caressingly; "you foolish queen
+of 'oney bees, of course he have you in his 'eart. You'll be bride and
+I'll be bridesmaid, though not a pretty one, and all will be 'oney and
+sunshine and gates of pearl, my beauty."
+
+"Debby--I'm--I'm--so happy!"
+
+Deborah placed her young mistress in Paul's arms. "Then let 'im make you
+'appier, pretty lily of the valley. Lor', as if anything bad 'ud ever
+come to you two while silly old Debby have a leg to stan' on an' arms to
+wash. Though the laundry--oh, lor'!" and she rubbed her nose till it
+grew scarlet, "what of it, Mr. Beecot, I do ask?"
+
+"Have you enough money to pay a year's rent?"
+
+"Yes, me and Bart have saved one 'undred between us. Rent and furniture
+and taxes can come out of it, sure. And my washin's what I call
+washin'," said Deborah, emphatically; "no lost buttings and tored sheets
+and ragged collars. I'd wash ag'in the queen 'erself, tho' I ses it as
+shouldn't. Give me a tub, and you'll see if the money don't come in."
+
+"Well, then, Deborah, as I am too poor to marry Sylvia now, I want her
+to stop with you till I can make a home for her."
+
+"An' where else should she stop but with her own silly, foolish Debby,
+I'd like to know? My flower, you come an' be queen of the laundry."
+
+"I'll keep the accounts, Debby," said Sylvia, now all smiling.
+
+"You'll keep nothin' but your color an' your dear 'eart up," retorted
+Debby, sniffing; "me an' Bart 'ull do all. An' this blessed day we'll go
+to Jubileetown with our belongings. And you, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I'll come and see you settled, Deborah, and then I return to earn an
+income for Sylvia. I won't let you keep her long."
+
+"She'll stop as long as she have the will," shouted Debby, hugging
+Sylvia; "as to that Krill cat--"
+
+"She can take possession as soon as she likes. And, Deborah," added
+Paul, significantly, "for all that has happened, I don't intend to drop
+the search for your late master's murderer."
+
+"It's the Krill cat as done it," said Debby, "though I ain't got no
+reason for a-sayin' of such a think."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE DETECTIVE'S VIEWS
+
+
+As Paul expected, the next letter from his father contained a revocation
+of all that had pleased him in the former one. Beecot senior wrote many
+pages of abuse--he always did babble like a complaining woman when
+angered. He declined to sanction the marriage and ordered his son at
+once--underlined--to give up all thought of making Sylvia Norman his
+wife. It would have been hard enough, wrote Beecot, to have received her
+as a daughter-in-law even with money, seeing that she had no position
+and was the daughter of a murdered tradesman, but seeing also that she
+was a pauper, and worse, a girl without a cognomen, he forbade Paul to
+bestow on her the worthy name of Beecot, so nobly worn by himself. There
+was much more to the same effect, which Paul did not read, and the
+letter ended grandiloquently in a command that Paul was to repair at
+once to the Manor and there grovel at the feet of his injured father.
+
+To this despotic epistle the young man answered in a few lines. He said
+that he intended to marry Sylvia, and that nothing would make him give
+her up, and that he would not meet his father again until that father
+remembered that his son was an Englishman and not a slave. Paul signed
+his letter without the usual "your affectionate son," for he felt that
+he had small love for this imperious old man who declined to control his
+passions. So he now, knew the worst. The breach between himself and his
+father was wider than ever, and he had only his youth and his brains to
+depend upon, in making a living for himself and a home for Sylvia.
+Strange to say, Paul's spirits rose, and he braced himself bravely to do
+battle with fortune for his beloved.
+
+Sylvia, under the charge of Deborah, and escorted by Bart Tawsey, had
+duly left Gwynne Street, bag and baggage, and she was now established in
+Rose Cottage, Jubileetown. The house was a small one, and there was not
+a single rose in the garden around it. Indeed, as the cottage had been
+newly erected, there was not even a garden, and it stood amidst a bare
+acre with a large drying-ground at the back. But the cottage, on the
+outskirts of the new suburb, was, to all intents and purposes, in the
+country, and Sylvia's weary eyes were so gladdened by green fields and
+glorious trees that she forgot the nakedness of her immediate
+surroundings. She was assigned the best room in the small abode, and one
+of the first things she did was to write a letter to Paul asking him to
+repair to Rose Cottage to witness the marriage of Deborah and Bart. The
+handmaiden thought this was necessary, so that she could make full use
+of her intended husband.
+
+"If he wasn't here allays," said the bride-elect, "he'd be gadding about
+idling. I know him. An' me getting a business together won't be easy
+unless I've got him at 'and, as you may say, to take round the bills,
+let alone that he ought to sleep in the 'ouse in case burgulars gits in.
+And sleep in the 'ouse without the blessin' of matrimony he can't, my
+pretty, so that's all about it."
+
+Deborah, as an American would say, was a "hustler," and having made up
+her mind, she did not let grass grow under her feet. She called on the
+vicar of the parish and explained herself at great length, but
+suppressed the fact that she had formerly lived in Gwynne Street. She
+did not want the shadow of the murder to cast a gloom over her new home,
+and therefore said nothing about the matter. All the vicar, good, easy
+soul, knew, was that Deborah had been a servant in a respectable family
+(whereabouts not mentioned); that the father and mother had died, and
+that she had brought the only daughter of the house to live with her and
+be treated like a lady. Then Deborah demanded that the banns should be
+put up, and arranged that Bart should take up his abode in the parish
+for the necessary time. This was done, and for three Sundays Deborah had
+the pleasure of hearing the banns announced which foretold that Bart
+Tawsey and herself would soon be man and wife. Then the marriage took
+place.
+
+The future Mrs. Tawsey had no relatives, but Bart produced a snuffy old
+grandmother from some London slum who drank gin during the
+wedding-feast, much to the scandal of the bride. Paul acted as best man
+to Bart, and Sylvia, in her plain black dress, was bridesmaid. Mrs.
+Purr, the grandmother, objected to the presence of black at a wedding,
+saying it was unlucky, and told of many fearful incidents which had
+afterwards occurred to those who had tolerated such a funeral garb. But
+Deborah swept away all opposition.
+
+"What!" she shouted in her usual style, "not 'ave my own sweet pretty to
+arsk a blessing on my marriage, and she not able to git out of 'er
+blacks? I'm astonished at you, Mrs. Purr, and you an old woman as
+oughter know better. I doubt if you're Bart's granny. I've married into
+an ijit race. Don't talk to me, Mrs. Purr, if you please. Live clean an'
+work 'ard, and there's no trouble with them 'usbands. As 'as to love,
+honor and obey you."--And she sniffed.
+
+"Them words you 'ave t' saiy," mumbled Mrs. Purr.
+
+"Ho," said Deborah, scornfully, "I'd like to see me say 'em to sich a
+scrub as Bart."
+
+But say them she did at the altar, being compelled to do so by the
+vicar. But when the ceremony was over, the newly-made Mrs. Tawsey took
+Bart by the arm and shook him. He was small and lean and of a nervous
+nature, so he quivered like a jelly in his wife's tremendous grip.
+Deborah was really ignorant of her own strength.
+
+"You 'ark to me, Bart," said she, while the best man and bridesmaid
+walked on ahead talking lovingly. "I said them words, which you oughter
+'ave said, 'cause you ain't got no memory t' speak of. But they ain't my
+beliefs, but yours, or I'll know the reason why. Jes' you say them now.
+Swear, without Billingsgate, as you'll allays love, honor an' obey your
+lovin' wife."
+
+Bart, still being shaken, gasped out the words, and then gave his arm to
+the lady who was to rule his life. Deborah kissed him in a loud, hearty
+way, and led him in triumph to the cottage. Here Mrs. Purr had prepared
+a simple meal, and the health of the happy pair was proposed by Paul.
+Mrs. Purr toasted them in gin, and wept as she did so. A dismal, tearful
+old woman was Mrs. Purr, and she was about to open her mouth, in order
+to explain what she thought would come of the marriage, when Mrs. Tawsey
+stopped her.
+
+"None of them groans," cried Deborah, with vigor. "I won't have my
+weddings made funerals. 'Old your tongue, Mrs. Purr, and you, Bart, jes'
+swear to love, honor an' obey my pretty as you would your own lawful
+wife, and the ceremonies is hoff."
+
+Bart performed the request, and then Paul, laughing at the oddity of it
+all, took his leave. On walking to the gate, he was overtaken by Mrs.
+Purr, who winked mysteriously. "Whatever you do, sir," said the lean old
+creature, with many contortions of her withered face, "don't have
+nothin' to do with Tray."
+
+"Tray," echoed Paul in surprise. "Mr. Pash's office boy?"
+
+"Him and none other. I knows his grandmother, as 'as bin up for drunk
+two hundred times, and is proud of it. Stretchers is as common to her,
+sir, as kissings is to a handsome young gent like you. An' the boy takes
+arter her. A deep young cuss," whispered Granny Purr, significantly.
+
+"But why should I beware of him?" asked Beecot, puzzled.
+
+"A nod's a wink to a blind 'un," croaked Mrs. Purr, condensing the
+proverb, and turning away. "Jus' leave that brat, Tray, to his own
+wickedness. They'll bring him to the gallers some day."
+
+"But I want to know--"
+
+"Ah, well, then, you won't, sir. I ses what I ses, and I ses no more nor
+I oughter say. So good-night, sir," and Mrs. Purr toddled up the
+newly-gravelled path, and entered the cottage, leaving an odor of gin
+behind her.
+
+Beecot had half a mind to follow, so strange was the hint she had given
+him. Apparently, she knew something which connected him with Tray, and
+Paul wondered for the fiftieth time, if the boy had picked up the opal
+brooch. However, he decided to leave the matter alone for the present.
+Mrs. Purr, whom Deborah had engaged to iron, was always available, and
+Paul decided, that should anything point to Tray's being implicated in
+the finding of the opal serpent, that he would hand him over to Hurd,
+who would be better able to deal with such a keen young imp of the
+gutter. Thus making up his mind, Paul dismissed all thought of Mrs.
+Purr's mysterious utterance, and walked briskly to the nearest
+bus-stand, where he took a blue vehicle to the Bloomsbury district. All
+the way to his garret he dreamed of Sylvia, and poor though was the
+home he had left her in, he was thankful that she was there in the safe
+shelter of Mrs. Deborah Tawsey's arms.
+
+It was five o'clock when Paul arrived at the door of the stairs leading
+to his attic, and here he was touched on the shoulder by no less a
+person than Mr. Billy Hurd. Only when he spoke did Paul recognize him by
+his voice, for the gentleman who stood before him was not the brown
+individual he knew as the detective. Mr. Hurd was in evening dress, with
+the neatest of patent boots and the tightest of white gloves. He wore a
+brilliantly-polished silk hat, and twirled a gold-headed cane. Also he
+had donned a smart blue cloth overcoat with a velvet collar and cuffs.
+But though his voice was the voice of Hurd, his face was that of quite a
+different person. His hair was dark and worn rather long, his moustache
+black and large, and brushed out _a la Kaiser_, and he affected an
+eye-glass as immovable as that of Hay's. Altogether a wonderfully
+changed individual.
+
+"Hurd," said Paul, starting with surprise.
+
+"It's my voice told you. But now--" he spoke a tone higher in a shrill
+sort of way and with a foreign accent--"vould you me discover, mon ami?"
+he inquired, with a genuine Parisian shrug.
+
+"No. Why are you masquerading as a Frenchman, Hurd?"
+
+"Not Hurd in this skin, Mr. Beecot. Comte de la Tour, a votre service,"
+and he presented a thin glazed card with a coronet engraved on it.
+
+"Well, Count," said Beecot, laughing, "what can I do for you?"
+
+"Come up to your room," said the pseudo count, mounting the stairs;
+"there's something to be talked over between us."
+
+"No bad news, I hope?"
+
+"Ah, my poor friend," said the detective, in his usual genial voice,
+"you have had enough bad news, I am aware. To lose a lovely wife and a
+fine fortune at once. Eh, what a pity!"
+
+"I have lost the money, certainly," said Beecot, lighting his lamp, "but
+the wife will be mine as soon as I can save sufficient to give her a
+better home than this."
+
+Monsieur le Comte de la Tour sat down and gracefully flung open his
+overcoat, so as to expose a spotless shirt front. "What?" he asked,
+lifting his darkened eyebrows, "so you mean to marry that girl?"
+
+"Of course," said Paul, angrily; "do you think I'm a brute?"
+
+"But the money?"
+
+"What does that matter. I love her, not the money."
+
+"And the name. Her birth--"
+
+"I'll give her my own name and then we'll see who will dare to say a
+word against my wife."
+
+Hurd stretched out his hand, and, grasping that of Beecot's, shook it
+warmly. "Upon my word you are a man, and that's almost better than being
+a gentleman," he said heartily. "I've heard everything from Mr. Pash,
+and I honor you Mr. Beecot--I honor you."
+
+Paul stared. "You must have been brought up in a queer way, Hurd," he
+said drily, "to express this surprise because a man acts as a man and
+not as a blackguard."
+
+"Ah, but you see in my profession I have mixed with blackguards, and
+that has lowered my moral tone. It's refreshing to meet a straight,
+honorable man such as you are, Mr. Beecot. I liked you when first I set
+eyes on you, and determined to help you to discover the assassin of
+Aaron Norman--"
+
+"Lemuel Krill you mean."
+
+"I prefer to call him by the name we both know best," said Hurd, "but
+as I was saying, I promised to help you to find out who killed the man;
+now I'll help you to get back the money."
+
+Paul sat down and stared. "What do you mean?" he asked. "The money can't
+be got back. I asked a legal friend of mine, and put the case to him,
+since that monkey of a Pash has thrown us over. My friend said that as
+no name was mentioned in the will, Maud Krill would undoubtedly inherit
+the money. Besides, I learn that the certificate of marriage is all
+right. Mrs. Krill undoubtedly married Aaron Norman under his rightful
+name thirty years ago."
+
+"Oh, yes, that's all right," said Hurd, producing a dainty silver
+cigarette case, which was part of his "get-up." "Mrs. Krill is the widow
+of the murdered man, and the silly way in which the will has been made
+gives the five thousand a year to her daughter, whom Mrs. Krill has
+under her thumb. It's all right as I say. But I shouldn't be surprised
+to learn that there were circumstances in Aaron Norman's past life which
+led him to leave his wife, and which may lead Mrs. Krill into buying
+silence by giving Miss Norman half the income. You could live on two
+thousand odd a year, eh?"
+
+"Not obtained in that way," said Beecot, filling his pipe and passing a
+match to Hurd. "If the money comes legally to Sylvia, well and good;
+otherwise she will have nothing to do with it."
+
+Hurd looked round the bleak garret expressively and shrugged his
+shoulders again. "I think you are wrong, Mr. Beecot. You can't bring her
+here."
+
+"No. But I may make enough money to give her a better home."
+
+"Can I help you?"
+
+"I don't see how you can. I want to be an author."
+
+"Well," said Hurd, whose British speech was in strange contrast to his
+foreign appearance, "it's not a bad game to be an author if you get a
+good serial connection. Oh, don't look surprised. I know about
+newspapers and publishers as I know about most things. See here, Mr.
+Beecot, have you ever tried your hand at a detective story?"
+
+"No. I write on a higher level."
+
+"You won't write on a more paying level," replied Hurd, coolly. "I know
+a newspaper which will give you--if I recommend you, mind--one hundred
+pounds for a good detective yarn. You apply for it."
+
+"But I couldn't make up one of those plots--so intricate."
+
+"Pooh. It's a trick. You set your puppets in such and such a way and
+then mix them up. I'll give you the benefit of my experience as a 'tec,
+and with my plot and your own writing we'll be able to knock up a story
+for the paper I talk of. Then, with one hundred pounds you'll have a
+nest-egg to start with."
+
+"I accept with gratitude," said Beecot, moved, "but I really don't know
+why you should trouble about me."
+
+"Because you're a white man and an honorable gentleman," said the
+detective, emphatically. "I've got a dear little wife of my own, and
+she's something like this poor Miss Norman. Then again, though you
+mightn't think so, I'm something of a Christian, and believe we should
+help others. I had a hard life, Mr. Beecot, before I became a detective,
+and many a time have I learned that prayers can be answered. But this is
+all beside the question," went on Hurd quickly, and with that nervous
+shame with which an Englishman masks the better part of himself. "I'll
+see about the story for you. Meanwhile, I am going to a card-party to
+meet, incidentally, Mr. Grexon Hay."
+
+"Ah! You still suspect him?"
+
+"I do, and with good reason. He's got another mug in tow. Lord George
+Sandal, the son of Lord--well I needn't mention names, but Hay's trying
+to clear the young ass out, and I'm on the watch. Hay will never know me
+as the Count de la Tour. Not he, smart as he is. I'm fly!"
+
+"Do you speak French well?"
+
+"Moderately. But I play a silent part and say little. I shut my mouth
+and open my eyes. But what I came here to say is, that I intend to find
+out the assassin of Aaron Norman."
+
+"I can't offer you a reward, Hurd," said Paul, with a sigh.
+
+"Oh, that's all right. The widow, by the advice of Pash, has doubled the
+reward. One thousand pounds it is now--worth winning, eh?"
+
+"Humph!" said Paul, moodily, "I shouldn't think she loved her husband so
+much as that."
+
+Hurd's brown eyes shot a red flame which showed that he was excited,
+though he was cool enough externally. "Yes," he admitted in a careless
+manner, "she certainly does act the weeping widow in rather an
+exaggerated fashion. However, she's got the cash now--or at least her
+daughter has, which is the same thing. The two have taken up their
+quarters in a fashionable hotel in the West End, and are looking for a
+house. The old woman manages everything, and she will be one too many
+for Mr. Hay."
+
+"What? Does he know Mrs. Krill? He said he didn't."
+
+"Quite right. He didn't when the ladies went first to Pash's office. But
+Hay, on the look-out for a rich wife, got Pash to introduce him to the
+ladies, who were charmed with him. He's making up to the daughter, even
+in the few weeks that have elapsed, and now is assisting them to find a
+house. The daughter loves him I fancy, but whether the mother will
+allow the marriage to take place I can't say."
+
+"Surely not on such a short acquaintance."
+
+Hurd bent forward as about to say something, then changed his mind.
+"Really, I don't know--Hay is fascinating and handsome. Have you been to
+see him yet?"
+
+"No. He asked me, but all these troubles have put him out of my head.
+Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because next time he invites you, go."
+
+"You warned me against him."
+
+"And I warn you again," said the detective, dryly. "Don't ask me to
+explain, for I can't. But you go to see Hay when he invites you, and
+make yourself agreeable, especially to Mrs. Krill."
+
+"Am I likely to meet her?" asked Paul, with repugnance.
+
+"Yes, I fancy so. After all, you are engaged to the daughter of the dead
+man, and Mrs. Krill--I don't count Maud, who is a tool--is a deucedly
+clever woman. She will keep her eye on you and Miss Norman."
+
+"Why? She has the money and need take no further notice."
+
+Hurd closed one eye in a suggestive manner. "Mrs. Krill may not be so
+sure of the money, even though possession is nine points of the law. You
+remember that scrap of paper found by the maid?"
+
+"In which Norman warned Sylvia against allowing his real name to become
+known? Yes."
+
+"Well, the letter wasn't finished. The old man was interrupted, I
+suppose. But in the few lines of writing Norman says," here Hurd took a
+scrap of paper--a copy--out of his book and read, "'If the name of Krill
+gets into the papers there will be great trouble. Keep it from the
+public, I can tell you where to find the reasons for this as I have
+written'--and then," said Hurd, refolding the paper, "the writing ends.
+But you can see that Aaron Norman wrote out an account of his reasons,
+which could not be pleasant for Mrs. Krill to hear."
+
+"I still don't understand," said Paul, hopelessly puzzled.
+
+"Well," said the detective, rising and putting on his smart hat, "it's
+rather a muddle, I confess. I have no reason to suspect Mrs. Krill--"
+
+"Good heavens, Hurd, you don't think she killed her husband?"
+
+"No. I said that I have no reason to suspect her. But I don't like the
+woman at all. Norman left his wife for some unpleasant reason, and that
+reason, as I verily believe, has something to do with his death. I don't
+say that Mrs. Krill killed him, but I do believe that she knows of
+circumstances which may lead to the detection of the criminal."
+
+"In that case she would save her thousand pounds."
+
+"That's just where it is. If she does know, why does she double the
+reward? A straightforward woman would speak out, but she's a crooked
+sort of creature; I shouldn't like to have her for my enemy."
+
+"It seems to me that you do suspect her," said Paul dryly, but puzzled.
+
+Hurd shrugged his shoulders. "No, but I'm in a fix, that's a truth,"
+said he, and sauntered towards the door. "I can't see my way. There's
+the clue of Mrs. Krill's past to be followed up, and the hint contained
+in this scrap of paper. The old man may have left a document behind
+likely to solve the whole business. He hints as much here."
+
+"True enough, but nothing was found."
+
+"Then again," went on Hurd, "the request for the jewels to be delivered
+to that sailor chap was in Norman's handwriting and signed with his
+name."
+
+"A forgery."
+
+"No. Pash, who knows his writing better than any other man, says the
+document is genuine. Now then, Mr. Beecot, what made Aaron Norman write
+and sign those lines giving up his property--or a part of it--just
+before his death?"
+
+"It may have been done in good faith."
+
+"No. If so, the messenger would not have cleared out when Pash started
+for Gwynne Street. That nautical gent knew what the lawyer would find at
+the house, and so made himself scarce after trying to get the jewels.
+This scrap of paper," Hurd touched his breast, "and that request for the
+jewels in Pash's possession. Those are my clues."
+
+"And the opal serpent?" asked Paul.
+
+Hurd shook his head gloomily. "It's connection with the matter is beyond
+me," he confessed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+MR. HAY'S LITTLE DINNER
+
+
+The detective was as good as his word. In a few days Paul was introduced
+to the editor of a weekly publication and obtained a commission for a
+story to be written in collaboration with Mr. Hurd. It seemed that the
+editor was an old acquaintance of Hurd's and had been extricated by him
+from some trouble connected with cards. The editor, to show his
+gratitude, and because that Hurd's experiences, thrown into the form of
+a story, could not fail to interest the public, was only too willing to
+make a liberal arrangement. Also Paul was permanently engaged to supply
+short stories, to read those that were submitted to the editor, and, in
+fact, he permanently became that gentleman's right hand. He was a kind,
+beery Bohemian of an editor, Scott by name, and took quite a fancy to
+Paul.
+
+"I'll give you three pounds a week," said Scott, beaming through his
+large spectacles and raking his long gray beard with tobacco-stained
+fingers, "you can live on that, and to earn it you can give me your
+opinion on the stories. Then between whiles you can talk to Hurd and
+write this yarn which I am sure will be interesting. Hurd has had some
+queer experiences."
+
+This was quite true. Hurd had ventured on strange waters, but the
+strangest he ever sailed on were those connected with the Gwynne Street
+case. These latter experiences he did not tell to Scott, who was
+incapable of holding his tongue, and secrecy, as the detective impressed
+on Paul, was absolutely necessary to the conduct of the case. "If we
+keep matters quiet," argued Hurd, "and let those concerned in the matter
+fancy the case has been dropped, we'll be able to throw them off their
+guard, and then they may betray themselves."
+
+"I wish you would say if you think there is one person or two," said
+Paul, irritably, for his nerves were wearing thin under the strain. "You
+first talk of the assassin and then of the assassins."
+
+"Well," drawled Hurd, smiling, "I'm in the dark, you see, and being only
+a flesh and blood human being, instead of a creation of one of you
+authors, I can only grope in the dark and look in every direction for
+the light. One person, two persons, three, even four may be engaged in
+this affair for all I know. Don't you be in a hurry, Mr. Beecot. I
+believe in that foreign chap's saying, 'Without haste without rest.'"
+
+"Goethe said that."
+
+"Then Goethe is a sensible man, and must have read his Bible. 'Make no
+haste in time of trouble,' says the Scriptures."
+
+"Very good," assented Beecot; "take your own time."
+
+"I intend to," said Hurd, coolly. "Bless you, slow and sure is my motto.
+There's no hurry. You are fixed up with enough to live on, and a
+prospect of making more. Your young lady is happy enough with that
+grenadier of a woman in spite of the humbleness of the home. Mrs. Krill
+and her daughter are enjoying the five thousand a year, and Mr. Grexon
+Hay is fleecing that young ass, Lord George Sandal, as easily as
+possible. I stand by and watch everything. When the time comes I'll
+pounce down on--"
+
+"Ah," said Paul, "that's the question. On whom?"
+
+"On one or two or a baker's dozen," rejoined Hurd, calmly. "My chickens
+ain't hatched yet, so I don't count 'em. By the way, is your old
+school-fellow as friendly as ever?"
+
+"Yes. Why, I can't understand; as he certainly will make no money out of
+me. He's giving a small dinner to-morrow night at his rooms and has
+asked me."
+
+"You go," said the detective, emphatically; "and don't let on you have
+anything to do with me."
+
+"See here, Hurd, I won't play the spy, if you mean that."
+
+"I don't mean anything of the sort," replied Hurd, earnestly, "but if
+you do chance to meet Mrs. Krill at this dinner, and if she does chance
+to drop a few words about her past, you might let me know."
+
+"Oh, I don't mind doing that," said Beecot, with relief. "I am as
+anxious to find out the truth about this murder as you are, if not more
+so. The truth, I take it, is to be found in Krill's past, before he took
+the name of Norman. Mrs. Krill will know of that past, and I'll try and
+learn all I can from her. But Hay has nothing to do with the crime, and
+I won't spy on him."
+
+"Very good. Do what you like. But as to Hay, having nothing to do with
+the matter, I still think Hay stole that opal brooch from you when you
+were knocked down."
+
+"In that case Hay must know who killed Norman," cried Paul, excited.
+
+"He just does," rejoined Hurd, calmly; "and now you can understand
+another reason why I take such an interest in that gentleman."
+
+"But you can't be certain?"
+
+"Quite so. I am in the dark, as I said before. But Hay is a dangerous
+man and would do anything to rake in the dollars. He has something to do
+with the disappearance of that brooch I am sure, and if so, he knows
+more than he says. Besides"--here Hurd hesitated--"No! I'll tell you
+that later."
+
+"Tell me what?"
+
+"Something about Hay that will astonish you and make you think he has
+something to do with the crime. Meanwhile, learn all you can from Mrs.
+Krill."
+
+"If I meet her," said Paul, with a shrug.
+
+Undoubtedly Hurd knew more than he was prepared to admit, and not even
+to Paul, staunch as he knew him to be, would he speak confidentially.
+When the time came the detective would speak out. At present he held his
+tongue and moved in clouds like a Homeric deity. But his eyes were on
+all those connected with the late Aaron Norman, indirectly or directly,
+although each and every one of them were unaware of the scrutiny.
+
+Paul had no scruples in learning all he could from Mrs. Krill. He did
+not think that she had killed her husband, and probably might be
+ignorant of the person or persons who had slain the poor wretch in so
+cruel a manner. But the motive of the crime was to be found in Norman's
+past, and Mrs. Krill knew all about this. Therefore, Paul was very
+pleased when he found that Mrs. Krill and her daughter were the guests
+at the little dinner.
+
+Hay's rooms were large and luxuriously furnished. In effect, he occupied
+a small flat in the house of an ex-butler, and had furnished the place
+himself in a Sybarite fashion. The ex-butler and his wife and servants
+looked after Hay, and in addition, that languid gentleman possessed a
+slim valet, with a sly face, who looked as though he knew more than was
+good for him. Indeed, the whole atmosphere of the rooms was shady and
+fast, and Paul, simple young fellow as he was, felt the bad influence
+the moment he stepped into the tiny drawing-room.
+
+This was furnished daintily and with great taste in color and
+furnishing. It was more like a woman's room, and Mr. Hay had spared no
+cost in making it pleasing to the eye and comfortable to the body. The
+prevailing tone was pale yellow, and the electric light suffused itself
+through lemon-shaded globes. The Louis Quinze furniture was upholstered
+in primrose, and there were many Persian praying mats and Eastern
+draperies about the place. Water-color pictures decked the walls, and
+numerous mirrors reflected the dainty, pretty apartment. A brisk fire
+was burning, although the evening was not cold, and everything looked
+delightfully pleasant. Paul could not help contrasting all this luxury
+and taste with his bare garret. But with Sylvia's love to warm his
+heart, he would not have changed places with Grexon Hay for all his
+splendor.
+
+Two ladies were seated by the fire. Mrs. Krill in black, majestic and
+calm as usual. She wore diamonds on her breast and jewelled stars in her
+gray hair. Although not young, she was a wonderfully well-preserved
+woman, and her arms and neck were white, gleaming and beautifully
+shaped. From the top of her head to the sole of her rather large but
+well-shod foot, she was dressed to perfection, and waved a languid fan
+as she welcomed Paul, who was presented to her by the host. "I am glad
+to see you, Mr. Beecot," she said in her deep voice; "we had rather an
+unhappy interview when last we met. How is Miss Norman?"
+
+"She is quite well," replied Paul, in as cordial a tone as he could
+command. For the sake of learning what he could, he wished to be
+amiable, but it was difficult when he reflected that this large, suave,
+smiling woman had robbed Sylvia of a fortune and had spoken of her in a
+contemptuous way. But Beecot, swallowing down his pride, held his little
+candle to the devil without revealing his repugnance too openly. And
+apparently Mrs. Krill believed that his composure was genuine enough,
+for she was quite at her ease in his presence.
+
+The daughter was dressed like the mother, save that she wore pearls in
+place of diamonds. She talked but little, as usual, and sat smiling, the
+young image of the older woman. Hay also introduced Paul to a handsome
+young fellow of twenty-one with rather a feeble face. This was Lord
+George Sandal, the pigeon Hay was plucking, and although he had charming
+manners and an assumption of worldly wisdom, he was evidently one of
+those who had come into the world saddled and bridled for other folk's
+riding.
+
+A third lady was also present, who called herself Aurora Qian, and Hay
+informed his friend in a whisper that she was an actress. Paul then
+remembered that he had seen her name in the papers as famous in light
+comedy. She was pretty and kittenish, with fluffy hair and an eternal
+smile. It was impossible to imagine a greater contrast to the massive
+firmness of Mrs. Krill than the lively, girlish demeanor of the little
+woman, yet Paul had an instinct that Miss Qian, in spite of her
+profession and odd name and childish giggle, was a more shrewd person
+than she looked. Everyone was bright and merry and chatty: all save Maud
+Krill who smiled and fanned herself in a statuesque way. Hay paid her
+great attention, and Paul knew very well that he intended to marry the
+silent woman for her money. It would be hardly earned he thought, with
+such a firm-looking mother-in-law as Mrs. Krill would certainly prove to
+be.
+
+The dinner was delightful, well cooked, daintily served, and leisurely
+eaten. A red-shaded lamp threw a rosy light on the white cloth, the
+glittering crystal and bright silver. The number of diners was less than
+the Muses, and more than the Graces, and everyone laid himself or
+herself out to make things bright. And again Maud Krill may be
+mentioned as an exception. She ate well and held her tongue, merely
+smiling heavily when addressed. Paul, glancing at her serene face across
+the rosy-hued table, wondered if she really was as calm as she looked,
+and if she really lacked the brain power her mother seemed to possess.
+
+"I am glad to see you here, Beecot," said Hay, smiling.
+
+"I am very glad to be here," said Paul, adapting himself to
+circumstances, "especially in such pleasant company."
+
+"You don't go out much," said Lord George.
+
+"No, I am a poor author who has yet to win his spurs."
+
+"I thought of being an author myself," said the young man, "but it was
+such a fag to think about things."
+
+"You want your material supplied to you perhaps," put in Mrs. Krill in a
+calm, contemptuous way.
+
+"Oh, no! If I wrote stories like the author johnnies I'd rake up my
+family history. There's lots of fun there."
+
+"Your family mightn't like it," giggled Miss Qian. "I know lots of
+things about my own people which would read delightfully if Mr. Beecot
+set them down, but then--" she shrugged her dainty shoulders, "oh, dear
+me, what a row there would be!"
+
+"I suppose there is a skeleton in every cupboard," said Hay, suavely,
+and quite ignoring the shady tenant in his own.
+
+"There's a whole dozen cupboards with skeletons to match in my family,"
+said the young lord. "Why, I had an aunt, Lady Rachel Sandal, who was
+murdered over twenty years ago. Now," he said, looking triumphantly
+round the table, "which of you can say there's a murder in your
+family--eh, ladies and gentlemen?"
+
+Paul glanced sideways at Mrs. Krill, wondering what she would say, and
+wondering also how it was that Lord George did not know she was the
+widow of the murdered Lemuel Krill, whose name had been so widely
+advertised. But Hay spoke before anyone could make a remark. "What an
+unpleasant subject," he said, with a pretended shudder, "let us talk of
+less melodramatic things."
+
+"Oh, why," said Mrs. Krill, using her fan. "I rather like to hear about
+murders."
+
+Lord George looked oddly at her, and seemed about to speak. Paul thought
+for the moment that he did know about the Gwynne Street crime and
+intended to remark thereon. But if so his good taste told him that he
+would be ill-advised to speak and he turned to ask for another glass of
+wine. Miss Aurora Qian looked in her pretty shrewd way from one to the
+other. "I just love the Newgate Calendar," she said, clasping her hands.
+"There's lovely plots for dramas to be found there. Don't you think so,
+Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I don't read that sort of literature, Miss Qian."
+
+"Ah, then you don't know what people are capable of in the way of
+cruelty, Mr. Beecot."
+
+"I don't want to know," retorted Paul, finding the subject distasteful
+and wondering why the actress pressed it, as she undoubtedly did. "I
+prefer to write stories to elevate the mind."
+
+Miss Qian made a grimace and shot a meaning look at him. "It doesn't
+pay," she said, tittering, "and money is what we all want."
+
+"I fear I don't care for money overmuch."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Krill to him in an undertone, "I know that from the way
+you spoke in Mr. Pash's office."
+
+"I was standing up for the rights of another."
+
+"You will be rewarded," she replied meaningly, but what she did mean
+Paul could not understand.
+
+The rest of the dinner passed off well enough, as the subject was
+changed. Lord George began to talk of racing, and Hay responded. Mrs.
+Krill alone seemed shocked. "I don't believe in gambling," she said
+icily.
+
+"I hope you are not very down on it," said Hay. "Lord George and I
+propose to play bridge with you ladies in the next room."
+
+"Maud can play and Miss Qian," said the widow. "I'll talk to Mr. Beecot,
+unless he prefers the fascination of the green cloth."
+
+"I would rather talk to you," replied Paul, bowing.
+
+Mrs. Krill nodded, and then went out of the room with the younger
+ladies. The three gentlemen filled their glasses with port, and Hay
+passed round a box of cigars. Soon they were smoking and chatting, in a
+most amicable fashion. Lord George talked a great deal about racing and
+cards, and his bad luck with both. Hay said very little and every now
+and then cast a glance at Paul, to see how he was taking the
+conversation. At length, when Sandal became a trifle vehement on the
+subject of his losses, Hay abruptly changed the subject, by refilling
+his glass and those of his companions. "I want you to drink to the
+health of my future bride," he said.
+
+"What," cried Paul, staring, "Miss Krill?"
+
+"The same," responded Hay, coldly. "You see I have taken your advice and
+intend to settle. Pash presented me to the ladies when next they came to
+his office, and since then I have been almost constantly with them. Miss
+Krill's affections were disengaged, and she, therefore, with her
+mother's consent, became my promised wife."
+
+"I wish you joy," said Lord George, draining his glass and filling
+another, "and, by Jove! for your sake, I hope she's got money."
+
+"Oh, yes, she's well off," said Hay, calmly, "and you, Paul?"
+
+"I congratulate you, of course," stammered Beecot, dazed; "but it's so
+sudden. You haven't known her above a month."
+
+"Five weeks or so," said Hay, smiling, and sinking his voice lower, he
+added, "I can't afford to let grass grow under my feet. This young ass
+here might snap her up, and Mrs. Krill would only be too glad to secure
+a title for Maud."
+
+"I say," said Lord George suddenly, and waking from a brown study, "who
+is Mrs. Krill? I've heard the name."
+
+"It's not an uncommon name," said Hay, untruthfully and quickly. "She is
+a rich widow who has lately come to London."
+
+"Where did she come from?"
+
+"I can't tell you that. From the wilds of Yorkshire I believe. You had
+better ask her."
+
+"Oh, by Jove, no, I wouldn't be so rude. But I seem to know the name."
+Paul privately thought that if he read the papers, he ought certainly to
+know the name, and he was on the point of making, perhaps an injudicious
+remark, but Hay pointedly looked at him in such a meaning way, that he
+held his tongue. More, when they left their wine for the society of the
+ladies, Hay squeezed his friend's arm in the passage.
+
+"Don't mention the death," he said, using a politer word by preference.
+"Sandal doesn't connect Mrs. Krill with the dead man. She wants to live
+the matter down."
+
+"In that case she ought to leave London for a time."
+
+"She intends to. When I make Maud my wife, we will travel with her
+mother for a year or two, until the scandal of the murder blows over.
+Luckily the name of Lemuel Krill was not mentioned often in the papers,
+and Sandal hasn't seen a hand-bill that I know of. I suppose you agree
+with me that silence is judicious?"
+
+"Yes," assented Paul, "I think it is."
+
+"And you congratulate me on my approaching marriage?"
+
+"Certainly. Now, perhaps, you will live like Falstaff when he was made a
+knight."
+
+Hay did not understand the allusion and looked puzzled. However, he had
+no time to say more, as they entered the drawing-room. Almost as soon as
+they did, Mrs. Krill summoned Paul to her side.
+
+"And now," she said, "let us talk of Miss Norman."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A NEW CLUE
+
+
+"I don't wish to talk of Miss Norman," said Paul, bluntly.
+
+"Then you can be no true lover," retorted the widow.
+
+"I disagree with you. A true lover does not talk to all and sundry
+concerning the most sacred feelings of his heart. Moreover, your remarks
+at our last meeting were not to my taste."
+
+"I apologize," said Mrs. Krill, promptly, "and will not offend in that
+way again. I did not know you then, but since Mr. Hay has spoken about
+you to me, I know and appreciate you, Mr. Beecot."
+
+But Paul was not to be cajoled in this manner. The more suave the woman
+was, the more he felt inclined to be on his guard, and he very wisely
+obeyed the prompting of his instinct. "I fear you do _not_ know me, Mrs.
+Krill," said he as coldly as Hay could have spoken, "else you would
+hardly ask me to discuss with you, of all people, the lady whom I intend
+to make my wife."
+
+"You are rather a difficult man to deal with," she replied, drawing her
+thick white eyebrows together. "But I like difficult men. That is why I
+admire Mr. Hay: he is not a silly, useless butterfly like that young
+lord there."
+
+"Silly he is not, but I doubt his being useful. So far as I can see Hay
+looks after himself and nobody else."
+
+"He proposes to look after my daughter."
+
+"So I understand," replied Beecot, politely, "but that is a matter
+entirely for your own consideration."
+
+Mrs. Krill still continued to smile in her placid way, but she was
+rather nonplussed all the same. From the appearance of Beecot, she had
+argued that he was one of those many men she could twist round her
+finger. But he seemed to be less easily guided than she expected, and
+for the moment she was silent, letting her hard eyes wander towards the
+card-table, round which sat the four playing an eager and engrossing
+game of bridge. "You don't approve of that perhaps?"
+
+"No," said Paul, calmly, "I certainly do not."
+
+"Are you a Puritan may I ask?"
+
+Beecot shook his head and laughed. "I am a simple man, who tries to do
+his duty in this world," said he, "and who very often finds it difficult
+to do that same duty."
+
+"How do you define duty, Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"We are becoming ethical," said Paul, with a smile. "I don't know that I
+am prepared with an answer at present."
+
+"Then the next time we meet. For I hope," said Mrs. Krill, smoothing her
+face to a smile--it had grown rather sombre--"that we shall often meet
+again. You must come and see us. We have taken a house in Kensington."
+
+"Chosen by Mr. Hay?"
+
+"Yes! He is our mentor in London Society. I don't think," added Mrs.
+Krill, studying his face, "that you like Mr. Hay."
+
+"As I am Mr. Hay's guest," said Paul, dryly, "that is rather an unkind
+question to ask."
+
+"I asked no question. I simply make a statement."
+
+Beecot found the conversation rather embarrassing. In place of his
+pumping Mrs. Krill, she was trying to pump him, which reversal of his
+design he by no means approved of. He changed the subject of
+conversation by drawing a powerfully attractive red herring across the
+trail. "You wish to speak to me about Miss Norman," he remarked.
+
+"I do," answered Mrs. Krill, who saw through his design, "but apparently
+that subject is as distasteful as a discussion about Mr. Hay."
+
+"Both subjects are rather personal, I admit, Mrs. Krill. However, if you
+have anything to tell me, which you would like Miss Norman to hear, I am
+willing to listen."
+
+"Ah! Now you are more reasonable," she answered in a pleased tone. "It
+is simply this, Mr. Beecot: I am very sorry for the girl. Through no
+fault of her own, she is placed in a difficult position. I cannot give
+her a name, since her father sinned against her as he sinned in another
+way against me, but I can--through my daughter, who is guided by
+me--give her an income. It does not seem right that I should have all
+this money--"
+
+"That your daughter should have all this money," interpolated Beecot.
+
+"My daughter and I are one," replied Mrs. Krill, calmly; "when I speak
+for myself, I speak for her. But, as I say, it doesn't seem right we
+should be in affluence and Miss Norman in poverty. So I propose to allow
+her five hundred a year--on conditions. Will she accept, do you think,
+Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I should think her acceptance would depend upon the conditions."
+
+"They are very simple," said Mrs. Krill in her deep tones, and looking
+very straightly at Paul. "She is to marry you and go to America."
+
+Beecot's face did not change, since her hard eyes were on it. But he was
+puzzled under his mask of indifference. Why did this woman want Sylvia
+to marry him, and go into exile? He temporized. "With regard to your
+wish that Miss Norman should marry me," said he, quietly, "it is of
+course very good of you to interest yourself in the matter. I fail to
+understand your reason, however."
+
+"Yet the reason is patent," rejoined Mrs. Krill, just as quietly and
+quite as watchful as before. "Sylvia Norman is a young girl without much
+character----"
+
+"In that I disagree with you."
+
+"Well, let us admit she has character, but she certainly has no
+experience. In the world, she is exposed to much trouble and, perhaps,
+may be, to temptation. Since her position is the fault of her father,
+and she is entirely innocent, I want her to have a happy life. For that
+reason I wish her to marry you."
+
+Paul bowed, not believing a word of this philanthropic speech. "Again, I
+say it is good of you," said he with some irony; "but even were I out of
+the way, her nurse, Deborah Tawsey, would look after her. As matters
+stand, however, she will certainly become my wife as soon as we can
+afford a home."
+
+"You can afford it to-morrow," said Mrs. Krill, eagerly, "if you will
+accept my offer."
+
+"A home in America," said Paul, "and why?"
+
+"I should think both of you would like to be away from a place where you
+have seen such a tragedy."
+
+"Indeed." Paul committed himself to no opinion. "And, supposing we
+accept your offer, which I admit is a generous one, you suggest we
+should go to the States."
+
+"Or to Canada, or Australia, or--in fact--you can go anywhere, so long
+as you leave England. I tell you, Mr. Beecot, even at the risk of
+hurting your feelings, that I want that girl away from London. My
+husband treated me very badly--he was a brute always--and I hate to
+have that girl before my eyes."
+
+"Yet she is innocent."
+
+"Have I not said that a dozen times," rejoined Mrs. Krill, impatiently.
+"What is the use of further discussion. Do you accept my offer?"
+
+"I will convey it to Miss Norman. It is for her to decide."
+
+"But you have the right since you are to be her husband."
+
+"Pardon me, no. I would never take such a responsibility on me. I shall
+tell Miss Norman what you say, and convey her answer to you."
+
+"Thank you," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. But she was annoyed that her
+golden bait had not been taken immediately, and, in spite of her
+suavity, Paul could see that she was annoyed, the more so when she began
+to explain. "Of course you understand my feelings."
+
+"I confess I don't quite. Naturally, the fact that you are connected
+with the murder in the public eyes--"
+
+"Pardon me," said the woman, swiftly, "but I am not. The name of Krill
+has hardly been noticed. The public know that Aaron Norman was murdered.
+No one talks of Lemuel Krill, or thinks that I am the widow of the
+murdered man. Possibly I may come across some people who will connect
+the two names, and look askance at me, but the majority of people--such
+as Lord George there," she pointed with her fan, "do not think of me in
+the way you say. As he did, they will think they remember the name--"
+
+"Lord George did not say that to you," said Paul, swiftly.
+
+"No. But he did to Mr. Hay, who told me," rejoined Mrs. Krill, quite as
+swiftly.
+
+"To-night?" asked Beecot, remembering that Hay had not spoken privately
+to Mrs. Krill since they came in from the dining-room.
+
+"Oh, no--on another occasion. Lord George has several times said that he
+has a faint recollection of my name. Possibly the connection between me
+and the murder may occur to his mind, but he is really so very stupid
+that I hope he will forget all about the matter."
+
+"I wonder you don't change your name," said Paul, looking at her.
+
+"Certainly not, unless public opinion forces me to change it," she said
+defiantly. "My life has always been perfectly open and above board, not
+like that of my husband."
+
+"Why did he change his name?" asked Beecot, eagerly--too eagerly, in
+fact, for she drew back.
+
+"Why do you ask?" she inquired coldly.
+
+Paul shrugged his shoulders. "An idle question, Mrs. Krill. I have no
+wish to force your confidence."
+
+"There is no forcing in the matter," responded the woman. "I have taken
+quite a fancy to you, Mr. Beecot, and you shall know what I do."
+
+"Pray do not tell me if you would rather not."
+
+"But I would rather," said Mrs. Krill, bluntly; "it will prevent your
+misconception of anything you may hear about us. My husband's real name
+was Lemuel Krill, and he married me thirty years ago. I will be frank
+with you and admit that neither of us were gentlefolks. We kept a
+public-house on the outskirts of Christchurch in Hants, called 'The Red
+Pig.'" She looked anxiously at him as she spoke.
+
+"A strange name."
+
+"Have you never heard of it before?"
+
+"No. Had I heard the name it would have remained in my memory, from its
+oddity."
+
+Paul might have been mistaken, but Mrs. Krill certainly seemed relieved.
+Yet if she had anything to conceal in connection with "The Red Pig,"
+why should she have mentioned the name.
+
+"It is not a first-class hotel," she went on smoothly, and again with
+her false smile. "We had only farm laborers and such like as customers.
+But the custom was good, and we did very well. Then my husband took to
+drink."
+
+"In that respect he must have changed," said Paul, quickly, "for all the
+time I knew him--six months it was--I never saw him the worse for drink,
+and I certainly never heard from those who would be likely to know that
+he indulged in alcohol to excess. All the same," added Paul, with an
+after-thought of his conversation with Sylvia in the Embankment garden,
+"I fancied, from his pale face and shaking hands, and a tightness of the
+skin, that he might drink."
+
+"Exactly. He did. He drank brandy in large quantities, and, strange to
+say, he never got drunk."
+
+"What do you mean exactly?" asked Beecot, curiously.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Krill, biting the top of her fan and looking over it,
+"Lemuel--I'll call him by the old name--never grew red in the face, and
+even after years of drinking he never showed any signs of intemperance.
+Certainly his hands would shake at times, but I never noticed
+particularly the tightness of the skin you talk of."
+
+"A certain shiny look," explained Paul.
+
+"Quite so. I never noticed it. But he never got drunk so as to lose his
+head or his balance," went on Mrs. Krill; "but he became a demon."
+
+"A demon?"
+
+"Yes," said the woman, emphatically, "as a rule he was a timid, nervous,
+little man, like a frightened rabbit, and would not harm a fly. But
+drink, as you know, changes a nature to the contrary of what it actually
+is."
+
+"I have heard that."
+
+"You would have seen an example in Lemuel," she retorted. "When he drank
+brandy, he became a king, a sultan. From being timid he became bold;
+from not harming anyone he was capable of murder. Often in his fits did
+he lay violent hands on me. But I managed to escape. When sober, he
+would moan and apologize in a provokingly tearful manner. I hated and
+despised him," she went on, with flashing eyes, but careful to keep her
+voice from reaching the gamblers. "I was a fool to marry him. My father
+was a farmer, and I had a good education. I was attracted by the good
+looks of Lemuel, and ran away with him from my father's farm in
+Buckinghamshire."
+
+"That's where Stowley is," murmured Paul.
+
+"Stowley?" echoed Mrs. Krill, whose ears were very sharp. "Yes, I know
+that town. Why do you mention it?"
+
+"The opal serpent brooch with which your husband's lips were fastened
+was pawned there."
+
+"I remember," said Mrs. Krill, calmly. "Mr. Pash told me. It has never
+been found out how the brooch came to fasten the lips--so horrible it
+was," she shuddered.
+
+"No. My father bought the brooch from the Stowley pawnbroker, and gave
+it to my mother, who sent it to me. When I had an accident, I lost it,
+but who picked it up I can't say."
+
+"The assassin must have picked it up," declared Mrs. Krill, decisively,
+"else it would not have been used in that cruel way; though why such a
+brooch should have been used at all I can't understand. I suppose my
+husband did not tell you why he wanted to buy the brooch?"
+
+"Who told you that he did?" asked Paul, quickly.
+
+"Mr. Pash. He told me all about the matter, but not the reason why my
+husband wanted the brooch."
+
+"Pash doesn't know," said Beecot, "nor do I. Your husband fainted when
+I first showed him the brooch, but I don't know why. He said nothing."
+
+Again Mrs. Krill's face in spite of her care showed a sense of relief at
+his ignorance. "But I must get back to my story," she said, in a hard
+tone, "we have to leave soon. I ran away with Lemuel who was then
+travelling with jewellery. He knew a good deal about jewellery, you
+know, which he turned to account in his pawnbroking."
+
+"Yes, and amassed a fortune, thereby."
+
+"I should never have credited him with so much sense," said Mrs. Krill,
+contemptuously. "While at Christchurch he was nothing but a drunkard,
+whining when sober, and a furious beast when drunk. I managed all the
+house, and looked after my little daughter. Lemuel led me a dog's life,
+and we quarrelled incessantly. At length, when Maud was old enough to be
+my companion, Lemuel ran away. I kept on 'The Red Pig,' and waited for
+him to return. But he never came back, and for over twenty years I heard
+nothing of him till I saw the hand-bills and his portrait, and heard of
+his death. Then I came to see Mr. Pash, and the rest you know."
+
+"But why did he run away?" asked Paul.
+
+"I suppose he grew weary of the life and the way I detested him," was
+her reply. "I don't wonder he ran away. But there, I have told you all,
+so make what you can of it. Tell Miss Norman of my offer, and make her
+see the wisdom of accepting it. And now"--she rose, and held out her
+hand--"I must run away. You will call and see us? Mr. Hay will give you
+the address."
+
+"What's that," said Hay, leaving the card-table, "does Beecot want your
+address? Certainly." He went to a table and scribbled on a card. "There
+you are. Hunter Street, Kensington, No. 32A. Do come, Beecot. I hope
+soon to call on your services to be my best man," and he cast a coldly
+loving look on Maud, who simply smiled as usual.
+
+By this time the card-party had broken up. Maud had lost a few pounds,
+and Lord George a great deal. But Miss Qian and Hay had won.
+
+"What luck," groaned the young lord. "Everything seems to go wrong with
+me."
+
+"Stop and we'll try another game when the ladies have gone," suggested
+Hay, his impassive face lighting up, "then Beecot--"
+
+"I must go," said the young gentleman, who did not wish to be called
+upon as a witness in a possible card scandal.
+
+"And I'll go too," said Lord George. "Whenever I play with you, Hay, I
+always seem to lose."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked Grexon, fiercely.
+
+"Oh, he doesn't mean anything," said Miss Qian, sweetly, and putting her
+cloak round her. "Mr. Beecot, just take me to my cab."
+
+"I'll take you to your carriage," said Hay, offering an arm to Mrs.
+Krill, which she accepted graciously.
+
+Lord George followed, grumbling, with the ever-smiling Maud. Miss Qian
+skipped into a hansom, and offered Paul a drive back to town which he
+refused. As the cab was driving off she bent down and whispered, "Be
+careful," with a side-glance at Hay.
+
+Paul laughed. Everyone seemed to doubt Hay. But that gentleman handed
+Mrs. Krill and her daughter into their carriage, and looked towards Lord
+George. "You don't want your revenge to-night?" he asked.
+
+"No, confound you!" said the young man, sulkily.
+
+"In that case I'll drive into Kensington with Mrs. Krill, and borrow her
+carriage for a trip to Piccadilly. Good-night, Sandal. Good-night,
+Beecot."
+
+He waved his hand, and the ladies waved theirs, and then the three drove
+away. Lord George lighted a cigar, and putting his arm within that of
+Beecot, strolled down the road. "Come to my club," he said.
+
+"No, thank you," answered Paul, politely, "I must get home."
+
+"But I wish you'd come. I hate being by myself and you seem such a good
+sort of chap."
+
+"Well," said Beecot, thinking he might say a word in season to this
+young fool, "I don't gamble."
+
+"Oh, you cry down that, do you?"
+
+"Well, I think it's foolish."
+
+"It is," assented Lord George, frankly, "infernally foolish. And Hay has
+all the luck. I wonder if he plays square."
+
+This was dangerous ground, and Paul shied. "I really can't say," he said
+coldly, "I don't play cards."
+
+"But what do you know of Hay?" asked Sandal.
+
+"Only that he was at school with me at Torrington. We met by accident
+the other day, and he asked me to dinner."
+
+"Torrington. Yes. I had a brother at that school once," said Lord
+George, "but you and Hay wouldn't get on well together, I should think.
+You're straight, and he's--"
+
+"You forget, we have been dining with him," said Paul, quickly.
+
+"What of that. I've dined often and have paid pretty dearly for the
+privilege. I must have lost at least five thousand to him within the
+last few months."
+
+"In that case I should advise you to play cards no more. The remedy is
+easy," said Paul, dryly.
+
+"It isn't so easy to leave off cards," rejoined Sandal, gloomily. "I'm
+that fond of gambling that I only seem to live when I've got the cards
+or dice in my hand. I suppose it's like dram-drinking."
+
+"If you take my advice, Lord George, you'll give up card-playing."
+
+"With Hay, do you mean?" asked the other, shrewdly.
+
+"With anyone. I know nothing about Hay beyond what I have told you."
+
+"Humph," said Sandal, "I don't think you're a chap like him at all. I
+may look a fool, but I ain't, and can see through a brick wall same as
+most Johnnies."
+
+"Who can't see at all," interpolated Paul, dryly.
+
+"Ha! ha! that's good. But I say about this Hay. What a queer lot he had
+there to-night."
+
+"I can't discuss that," said Paul, stiffly. He was not one to eat a
+man's bread and salt and then betray him.
+
+Sandal went on as though he hadn't heard him. "That actress is a jolly
+little woman," said he. "I've seen her at the Frivolity--a ripping fine
+singer and dancer she is. But those other ladies?"
+
+"Mrs. and Miss Krill."
+
+The young lord stopped short in the High Street. "Where have I heard
+that name?" he said, looking up to the stars; "somewhere--in the country
+maybe. I go down sometimes to the Hall--my father's place. I don't
+suppose you'd know it. It's three miles from Christchurch."
+
+"In Hants," said Paul, feeling he was on the verge of a discovery.
+
+"Yes. Have you been there?"
+
+"No. But I have heard of the place. There's an hotel there called 'The
+Red Pig,' which I thought--"
+
+"Ha!" cried young Sandal, stopping again, and with such a shout that
+passers-by thought he was drunk. "I remember the name. 'The Red Pig'; a
+woman called Krill kept that."
+
+"She can hardly be the same," said Paul, not wishing to betray the lady.
+
+"No. I guess not. She'd hardly have the cheek to sit down with me if she
+did. But Krill. Yes, I remember--my aunt, you know."
+
+"Your aunt?"
+
+"Yes," said Sandal, impatiently, "she was murdered, or committed suicide
+in that 'Red Pig' place. Rachel Sandal--with her unlucky opals."
+
+"Her unlucky opals! What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, she had a serpent set with opals she wore as a brooch, and it
+brought her bad luck."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Sylvia's theory
+
+
+It was close upon midnight when Paul reached his garret. Sandal drove
+him in a hansom as far as Piccadilly Circus, and from that place Beecot
+walked through Oxford Street to Bloomsbury. He had not been able to
+extract further information of any importance from the young lord. It
+appeared that Lady Rachel Sandal, in love with an inferior, had
+quarrelled with her father, and had walked to Christchurch one night
+with the intention of joining the man she wished to marry in London. But
+the night was stormy and Lady Rachel was a frail woman. She took refuge
+in "The Red Pig," intending to go the next morning. But during the night
+she was found strangled in the bedroom she had hired. Sandal could give
+no details, as the events happened before he was born, and he had only
+heard scraps of the dreadful story.
+
+"Some people say Lady Rachel was murdered," explained Sandal, "and
+others that she killed herself. But the opal brooch, which she wore,
+certainly disappeared. But there was such a scandal over the affair that
+my grandfather hushed it up. I can't say exactly what took place. But I
+know it happened at a small pub kept by a woman called Krill. Do you
+think this woman is the same?"
+
+"It's hardly likely," said Paul, mendaciously. "How could a woman who
+kept a small public house become suddenly rich?"
+
+"True," answered Lord George, as they stopped in the Circus, "and she'd
+have let on she knew about my name had she anything to do with the
+matter. All the same, I'll ask her."
+
+"Do so," said Paul, stepping out of the cab. He was perfectly satisfied
+that Mrs. Krill was quite equal to deceiving Sandal. The wonder was,
+that she had not held her peace to him about "The Red Pig."
+
+"You won't come on to my club?" asked Sandal, leaning out of the cab.
+
+"No, thank you," replied Paul. "Good-night," and he walked away.
+
+The fact is Beecot wished to put on paper all that he had heard that
+night and send it to Hurd. As soon as he reached his attic he set to
+work and wrote out a detailed account of the evening.
+
+     "You might find out if Lady Rachel committed suicide or whether she
+     was strangled by someone else," ended Beecot. "Certainly the
+     mention of the serpent brooch is curious. This may be the event in
+     Norman's past life which led him to change his name."
+
+Paul wrote much more and then went out to post the letter. It was after
+midnight when he did, so there was not much chance of Hurd getting the
+letter before the second or third post the next day. But Paul felt that
+he had done his duty, and had supplied the information as speedily as
+possible, so he went to sleep with a quiet mind, in spite of the
+excitement of the evening. But next morning he was unable to sit down to
+his desk as usual, and felt disinclined to go to the newspaper office,
+so he walked to Jubileetown to see how Sylvia was getting along. Deborah
+met him at the gate.
+
+"Well I never, Mr. Beecot," said Mrs. Tawsey, with her red arms akimbo
+in her usual attitude; "this is a sight for sore eyes. Won't my pretty
+be 'appy this day, say what you may. She's a-makin' out bills fur them
+as 'ad washin' done, bless her 'eart for a clever beauty."
+
+"How is business?" asked Paul, entering the gate, which Deborah opened.
+
+"Bless you, Mr. Beecot, I'll be a lady of forting soon," answered the
+proprietress of the laundry, "the way washing 'ave come in is jest
+amazin'. One 'ud think folk never 'ad no linen done up afore, and that
+they never did 'ave," said Deborah, rubbing her nose hard, "in my way,
+which _is_ a way. If you'd only send along your shirts, Mr. Beecot, I'd
+be proud to show you what can be done with fronts, an' no thumbnails
+down them to spile their loveliness."
+
+Paul did not reply to this, but laughed absently. He was wondering if
+Deborah had ever heard her master drop any hint as to his having come
+from the place where Mrs. Krill resided, and asked the question on the
+spur of the moment.
+
+"Do you know Christchurch in Hants?"
+
+Deborah rubbed her nose harder and looked at him doubtfully.
+
+"Me as said as I'd no relatives must tell the truth now, as I 'ave,"
+said she rather incoherently, "for my sister, Tilly Junk, worked for
+someone in that there place for years. But we never got on well, she
+being upsettin' and masterful, so arsk her to my weddin' I didn't, and
+denied relatives existing, which they do, she bein' alive ten years ago
+when she larst wrote."
+
+"You have not heard from her since?" asked Paul, inquisitively.
+
+"Sir, you may burn me or prison me or put me in pillaries," said Mrs.
+Tawsey, "but deceive you I won't. Me an' Tilly not bein' of 'appy
+matchin' don't correspond. We're Londing both," exclaimed Deborah,
+"father 'avin' bin a 'awker, but why she went to the country, or why I
+stopped in Gwynne Street, no one knows. And may I arsk, Mr. Beecot, why
+you arsk of that place?"
+
+"Your late master came from Christchurch, Mrs. Tawsey. Did you never
+hear him mention it?"
+
+"That I never did, for close he was, Mr. Beecot, say what you like. I
+never knowed but what he'd pawned and sold them bookses all his blessed
+life, for all the talkin' he did. If I'd ha' knowd," added Deborah,
+lifting her red finger, "as he'd bin maried afore and intended to cast
+out my lovely queen, I'd ha' strangled him myself."
+
+"He had no intention of casting out Sylvia," said Paul, musingly; "he
+certainly left the money to her."
+
+"Then why 'ave that other got it?"
+
+"Sylvia's name wasn't mentioned, and Miss Krill is legally entitled as
+the legitimate daughter."
+
+"Call her what you like, she's a cat as her mother is afore her," said
+Mrs. Tawsey, indignantly, "and not young at that. Thirty and over, as
+I'm a livin' woman."
+
+"Oh, I don't think Miss Krill is as old as that."
+
+"Being a man you wouldn't, sir, men bein' blind to wrinklings and paint.
+But paint she do, the hussey, and young she ain't. Over thirty--if I die
+for the sayin' of it."
+
+"But Mrs. Krill was married to your master only thirty years ago."
+
+"Then more shame to 'er," snapped Deborah, masterfully; "for she ain't
+an honest woman if the signs of age is believing. Will I write to my
+sister Tilly, as I don't love Mr. Beecot, and arsk if she knowed master
+when he wos in that there place, which she can't 'ave, seeing she's bin
+there but ten year, and he away twenty?"
+
+"No, Deborah, you'd better say nothing. The case is in Hurd's hands.
+I'll tell him what you say, and leave the matter to him. But you must be
+deceived about Miss Krill's age."
+
+"I've got two eyes an' a nose," retorted Mrs. Tawsey, "so don't talk of
+deceivin's. Thirty and more she is, the hussey, let her Jezebel of a mar
+lie as she like, an' can say what you will, Mr. Beecot. But there's my
+pretty smilin' from the winder and the tub's a-waitin'; so you go in and
+smooth 'er to affections, while I see that Mrs. Purr irons the shirts,
+which she do lovely there's no denyin'. Hoh!" and Deborah plunged round
+the corner of the house, rampant and full of corn.
+
+Paul walked through the newly-created garden, in which he saw many
+proofs of Sylvia's love for flowers, and reached the door in time to
+take the girl in his arms. She was flushed and joyful, and her eyes were
+as bright as stars. "Paul, darling," she said, as they entered the
+sitting-room, where she was struggling with the accounts, "I'm so glad
+you are here. What's nine times nine?"
+
+"Eighty-one," said Paul, looking at the long list of figures Sylvia had
+been trying to add up. "Why do you make your head ache with these
+accounts, darling?"
+
+"I must help Debby, Paul, and I get on very well with the aid of an
+arithmetic." And she pointed to a small school book which she had
+evidently been studying.
+
+"Let me take the burden from your shoulders," said her lover, smiling,
+and sat down at the table which was strewn with bills. In about an hour
+he had arranged all these, and had made them out neatly to Deborah's
+various customers. Then he directed the envelopes, and Sylvia sealed
+them up. All the time they laughed and chatted, and despite the dull
+toil thoroughly enjoyed themselves. "But I am glad to see, Sylvia," said
+Beecot, pointing to three library volumes lying on the sofa, "that you
+enjoy yourself occasionally."
+
+"Oh!" said Sylvia, pouncing on these, "I'm so glad you spoke, Paul; I
+wanted to say something to you. _The Confessions of a Thug_," she read
+out, and looked at Paul. "Have you read it?"
+
+Beecot nodded. "By Colonel Meadows Taylor. A very interesting book, but
+rather a bloodthirsty one for you, dearest."
+
+"Debby got it," confessed Miss Norman, "along with some other books from
+a literary customer who could not pay his bill. It is very strange,
+Paul, that _The Confessions of a Thug_ should be amongst the books."
+
+"Really I don't see why," smiled Beecot, fingering the old-fashioned
+volumes.
+
+"It's the finger of Fate, Paul," said Sylvia, solemnly. Then seeing her
+lover look puzzled, "I mean, that I should find out what goor is?"
+
+"Goor?" Paul looked more puzzled than ever.
+
+"It's an Indian word," explained Sylvia, "and means coarse sugar. The
+Thugs eat it before they strangle anyone."
+
+"Oh," laughed Beecot, "and you think your father was strangled by a
+Thug? My dear child, the Thugs were stamped out years ago. You'll read
+all about it in the preface of that book, if I remember. But it's long
+since I read the work. Besides, darling," he added, drawing her to him
+caressingly, "the Thugs never came to England."
+
+"Paul," said Sylvia, still more solemnly and resenting the laugh, "do
+you remember the Thug that came into the shop--"
+
+"Oh, you mean the street-hawker that Bart spoke of. Yes, I remember that
+such an Indian entered, according to Bart's tale, and wanted to sell
+boot-laces, while that young imp, Tray, was dancing on poor Bart's body.
+But the Indian wasn't a Thug, Sylvia."
+
+"Yes, he was," she exclaimed excitedly. "Hokar, he said he was, and
+Hokar was a Thug. Remember the handful of coarse brown sugar he left on
+the counter? Didn't Bart tell you of that?"
+
+Paul started. "Yes, by Jove! he did," was his reply.
+
+"Well, then," said Sylvia, triumphantly, "that sugar was goor, and the
+Thugs eat it before strangling anyone, and father was strangled."
+
+Beecot could not but be impressed. "It is certainly very strange," he
+said, looking at the book. "And it was queer your father should have
+been strangled on the very night when this Indian Hokar left the sugar
+on the counter. A coincidence, Sylvia darling."
+
+"No. Why should Hokar leave the sugar at all?"
+
+"Well, he didn't eat it, and therefore, if he was a Thug, he would have
+done so, had he intended to strangle your father."
+
+"I don't know," said Sylvia, with a look of obstinacy on her pretty
+face. "But remember the cruel way in which my father was killed, Paul.
+It's just what an Indian would do, and then the sugar--oh, I'm quite
+sure this hawker committed the crime."
+
+Beecot shook his head and strove to dissuade her from entertaining this
+idea. But Sylvia, usually so amenable to reason, refused to discard her
+theory, and indeed Paul himself thought that the incident of the sugar
+was queer. He determined to tell Hurd about the matter, and then the
+hawker might be found and made to explain why he had left the goor on
+the counter. "But the sect of the Thugs is extinct," argued Paul,
+quickly; "it can't be, Sylvia."
+
+"But it is," she insisted, "I'm sure." And from this firm opinion he
+could not move her. Finally, when he departed, he took the books with
+him, and promised to read the novel again. Perhaps something might come
+of Sylvia's fancy.
+
+The lovers spent the rest of the time in talking over their future, and
+Beecot looked hopefully towards making sufficient money to offer Sylvia
+a home. He also described to her how he had met Mrs. Krill and related
+what she was prepared to do. "Do you think we should accept the five
+hundred a year, Paul," said Sylvia, doubtfully; "it would put everything
+right, and so long as I am with you I don't care where we live."
+
+"If you leave the decision to me, darling," said Paul, "I think it will
+be best to refuse this offer. Something is wrong, or Mrs. Krill would
+not be so anxious to get you out of the country."
+
+"Oh, Paul, do you think she knows anything about the murder?"
+
+"No, dear. I don't think that. Mrs. Krill is far too clever a woman to
+put her neck in danger. But there may be a chance of her daughter losing
+the money. Sylvia," he asked, "you saw Maud Krill. How old would you
+take her to be?"
+
+"Oh, quite old, Paul," said Sylvia, decisively; "she dresses well and
+paints her face; but she's forty."
+
+"Oh, Sylvia, not so much as that."
+
+"Well, then, thirty and over," insisted Sylvia. "Debby thinks the same
+as I do."
+
+"Don't you think Debby's zeal may lead her to exaggerate?"
+
+"It doesn't lead me to exaggerate," said Sylvia, slightly offended; "and
+I have eyes in my head as well as Debby. That girl, or that woman, I
+should say, is over thirty, Paul."
+
+"In that case," said Beecot, his color rising, "I fancy I see the reason
+of Mrs. Krill's desire to get you out of the country. Maud," he added
+deliberately, "may not be your father's daughter after all."
+
+"What makes you think that?"
+
+"Well. According to the marriage certificate, and to Mrs. Krill's
+admission, she was married to your father thirty years ago. If Maud is
+over thirty--can't you see, Sylvia?"
+
+"Yes." Sylvia colored. "You mean she may be the same as I am?"
+
+"Not exactly, dear," replied Paul, soothing her. "I mean that Mrs. Krill
+may have been a widow and have had her little girl with her when she
+married your father. In that case Maud certainly could not get the
+money, and so Mrs. Krill wants you to leave England."
+
+"In case I would get it," said Sylvia, excited.
+
+Paul looked puzzled and rather sad. "I can't say, dear," he replied
+doubtfully. "Certainly the money is left to 'my daughter,' but as the
+marriage with your mother unfortunately is void, I fear you would not
+inherit. However," he said grimly, "there would be a certain pleasure in
+taking the money from that woman. Maud is a mere puppet in her hands,"
+he laughed. "And then Hay would marry a poor bride," he ended
+maliciously.
+
+Sylvia could not quite understand all this, and gave up trying to solve
+the problem with a pretty gesture of indifference. "What will you do,
+Paul?" she asked.
+
+"I'll see Hurd and tell him what you and Deborah say about the age of
+Maud Krill."
+
+"Why not see Mr. Pash?"
+
+"Because he is a traitor," replied Beecot, darkly, "and, knowing he has
+lost your confidence, he will certainly try and give Maud Krill
+possession of the money. No, I'll speak to Hurd, who is my friend and
+yours. He is clever and will be able to unravel this tangle."
+
+"Tell him about the goor also, Paul."
+
+"Yes. I'll explain everything I can, and then I'll get him to go down to
+Christchurch and see what happened there, when your father lived with
+Maud's mother."
+
+"What did happen, Paul?" asked Sylvia, anxiously.
+
+"Nothing," he replied with an assumption of carelessness, for he did not
+want to tell the girl about the fate of Lady Rachel Sandal, "but we may
+find in your father's past life what led to his murder."
+
+"Do you think Mrs. Krill had anything to do with it?"
+
+"My own, you asked that question before. No, I don't. Still, one never
+knows. I should think Mrs. Krill is a dangerous woman, although I fancy,
+too clever to risk being hanged. However, Hurd can find out if she was
+in town on the night your father was killed."
+
+"That was on the sixth of July," said Sylvia.
+
+"Yes. And he was murdered at twelve."
+
+"After twelve," said Sylvia. "I heard the policeman on his beat at a
+quarter-past, and then I came down. Poor father was strangled before our
+very eyes," she said, shuddering.
+
+"Hush, dear. Don't speak of it," said Paul, rising. "Let us talk of more
+interesting subjects."
+
+"Paul, I can think of nothing till I learn who killed my poor father,
+and why he was killed so cruelly."
+
+"Then we must wait patiently, Sylvia. Hurd is looking after the matter,
+and I have every confidence in Hurd. And, by Jove!" added Beecot, with
+an after-thought, "Mrs. Krill doubled the reward. Were she concerned in
+the matter she would not risk sharpening the wits of so clever a man as
+Hurd. No, Sylvia, whosoever strangled your father it was not Mrs.
+Krill."
+
+"It was this Indian," insisted Sylvia, "and he's a Thug."
+
+Paul laughed although he was far from thinking she might be wrong. Of
+course it seemed ridiculous that a Thug should strangle the old man. In
+the first place, the Thugs have been blotted out; in the second, if any
+survived, they certainly would not exercise their devilish religion in
+England, and in the third, Hokar, putting aside his offering strangled
+victims to Bhowanee, the goddess of the sect, had no reason for slaying
+an unoffending man. Finally, there was the sailor to be accounted
+for--the sailor who had tried to get the jewels from Pash. Paul wondered
+if Hurd had found out anything about this individual. "It's all very
+difficult," sighed Beecot, "and the more we go into the matter the more
+difficult does it get. But we'll see light some day. Hurd, if anyone,
+will unravel the mystery," and Sylvia agreed with him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HURD'S INFORMATION
+
+
+For the next day or two Paul was kept closely to work in the office,
+reading a number of tales which were awaiting his judgment. After hours,
+he several times tried to see Billy Hurd, but was unable to meet him. He
+left a note at the Scotland Yard office, asking if Hurd had received his
+communication regarding Mrs. Krill, and if so, what he proposed to do
+concerning it. Hurd did not reply to this note, and Paul was growing
+puzzled over the silence of the detective. At length the answer came,
+not in writing, but in the person of Hurd himself, who called on Beecot.
+
+The young man had just finished his frugal meal and was settling down to
+an evening's work when there came a knock to the door. Hurd, dressed in
+his usual brown suit, presented himself, looking cool and composed. But
+he was more excited than one would imagine, as Paul saw from the
+expression of his eyes. The detective accepted a cup of coffee and
+lighted his pipe. Then he sat down in the arm-chair on the opposite side
+of the fireplace and prepared to talk. Paul heaped on coals with a
+lavish hand, little as he could afford this extravagance, as the night
+was cold and he guessed that Hurd had much to say. So, on the whole,
+they had a very comfortable and interesting conversation.
+
+"I suppose you are pleased to see me?" asked Hurd, puffing meditatively
+at his briar.
+
+Paul nodded. "Very glad," he answered, "that is, if you have done
+anything about Mrs. Krill?"
+
+"Well," drawled the detective, smiling, "I have been investigating that
+murder case."
+
+"Lady Rachel Sandal's?" said Beecot, eagerly. "Is it really murder?"
+
+"I think so, though some folks think it suicide. Curious you should have
+stumbled across that young lord," went on Hurd, musingly, "and more
+curious still that he should have been in the room with Mrs. Krill
+without recollecting the name. There was a great fuss made about it at
+the time."
+
+"Oh, I can understand Lord George," said Beecot, promptly. "The murder,
+if it is one, took place before he was born, and as there seems to have
+been some scandal in the matter, the family hushed it up. This young
+fellow probably gathered scraps of information from old servants, but
+from what he said to me in the cab, I think he knows very little."
+
+"Quite enough to put me on the track of Lemuel Krill's reason for
+leaving Christchurch."
+
+"Is that the reason?"
+
+"Yes. Twenty-three years ago he left Christchurch at the very time Lady
+Rachel was murdered in his public-house. Then he disappeared for a time,
+and turned up a year later in Gwynne Street with a young wife whom he
+had married in the meantime."
+
+"Sylvia's mother?"
+
+"Exactly. And Miss Norman was born a year later. She's nearly
+twenty-one, isn't she?"
+
+"Yes. She will be twenty-one in three months."
+
+Hurd nodded gravely. "The time corresponds," said he. "As the crime was
+committed twenty-three years back and Lord George is only twenty, I can
+understand how he knows so little about it. But didn't he connect Mrs.
+Krill with the man who died in Gwynne Street?"
+
+"No. She explained that. The name of Krill appeared only a few times in
+the papers, and was principally set forth with the portrait, in the
+hand-bills. I shouldn't think Lord George was the kind of young man to
+bother about hand-bills."
+
+"All the same, he might have heard talk at his club. Everyone isn't so
+stupid."
+
+"No. But, at all events, he did not seem to connect Mrs. Krill with the
+dead man. And even with regard to the death of his aunt, he fancied she
+might not be the same woman."
+
+"What an ass he must be," said Hurd, contemptuously.
+
+"I don't think he has much brain," confessed Paul, shrugging his
+shoulders; "but he asked me if I thought Mrs. Krill was the same as the
+landlady of 'The Red Pig,' and I denied that she was. I don't like
+telling lies, but in this case I hope the departure from truth will be
+pardoned."
+
+"You did very right," said the detective. "The fewer people know about
+these matters the better--especially a chatterbox like this young fool."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"Yes, under the name of the Count de la Tour. But I know of him in
+another way, which I'll reveal later. Hay is still fleecing him?"
+
+"He is. But Lord George seems to be growing suspicious of Hay," and Paul
+related the conversation he had with the young man.
+
+Hurd grunted. "I'm sorry," he said. "I want to catch Hay red-handed, and
+if Lord George grows too clever I may not be able to do so."
+
+"Well," said Paul, rather impatiently, "never mind about that fellow
+just now, but tell me what you have discovered."
+
+"Oh, a lot of interesting things. When I got your letter, of course I at
+once connected the opal serpent with Aaron Norman, and his change of
+name with the murder. I knew that Norman came to Gwynne Street over
+twenty years ago--that came out in the evidence connected with his
+death. Therefore, putting two and two together, I searched in the
+newspapers of that period and found what I wanted."
+
+"A report of the case?"
+
+"Precisely. And after that I hunted up the records at Scotland Yard for
+further details that were not made public. So I got the whole story
+together, and I am pretty certain that Aaron Norman, or as he then was,
+Lemuel Krill, murdered Lady Rachel for the sake of that precious
+brooch."
+
+"Ah," said Paul, drawing a breath, "now I understand why he fainted when
+he saw it again. No wonder, considering it was connected in his mind
+with the death of Lady Rachel."
+
+"Quite so. And no wonder the man kept looking over his shoulder in the
+expectation of being tapped on the shoulder by a policeman. I don't
+wonder also that he locked up the house and kept his one eye on the
+ground, and went to church secretly to pray. What a life he must have
+led. Upon my soul, bad as the man was, I'm sorry for him."
+
+"So am I," said Paul. "And after all, he is Sylvia's father."
+
+"Poor girl, to have a murderer for a father!"
+
+Beecot turned pale. "I love Sylvia for herself," he said, with an
+effort, "and if her father had committed twenty murders I would not let
+her go. But she must never know."
+
+"No," said Hurd, stretching his hand across and giving Paul a friendly
+grip, "and I knew you'd stick to her. It wouldn't be fair to blame the
+girl for what her father did before she was born."
+
+"We must keep everything from her, Hurd. I'll marry her and take her
+abroad sooner than she should learn of this previous murder. But how did
+it happen?"
+
+"I'll tell you in a few minutes." Hurd rose and began to pace the narrow
+limits of the attic. "By the way, do you know that Norman was a secret
+drinker of brandy?"
+
+Paul nodded, and told the detective what he had learned from Mrs. Krill.
+Hurd was much struck with the intelligence. "I see," said he; "what Mrs.
+Krill says is quite true. Drink does change the ordinary nature into the
+opposite. Krill sober was a timid rabbit; Krill drunk was a murderer and
+a thief. Good lord, and how he drank!"
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Well," confessed Hurd, nursing his chin, "Pash and I went to search the
+Gwynne Street house to find, if possible, the story alluded to in the
+scrap of paper Deborah Junk found. We couldn't drop across anything of
+that sort, but in Norman's bedroom, which nobody ever entered, we found
+brandy bottles by the score. Under the bed, ranged along the walls,
+filling cupboards, stowed away in boxes. I had the curiosity to count
+them. Those we found, ran up to five hundred, and Lord knows how many
+more he must have got rid of when he found the bottles crowding him
+inconveniently."
+
+"I expect he got drunk every night," said Paul, thinking. "When he
+locked up Sylvia and Deborah in the upper room--I can understand now why
+he did so--he could go to the cellar and take possession of the shop key
+left on the nail by Bart. Then, free from all intrusion, he could drink
+till reeling. Not that I think he ever did reel," went on Beecot,
+mindful of what Mrs. Krill had said; "he could stand a lot, and I expect
+the brandy only converted him into a demon."
+
+"And a clever business man," said Hurd. "You know Aaron Norman was not
+clever over the books. Bart sold those, but from all accounts he was a
+Shylock when dealing, after seven o'clock, in the pawnbroking way. I
+understand now. Sober, he was a timid fool; drunk, he was a bold, clever
+villain."
+
+"My poor Sylvia, what a father," sighed Paul; "but this crime--"
+
+"I'll tell you about it. Lemuel Krill and his wife kept 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch, a little public house it is, on the outskirts of the town,
+frequented by farm-laborers and such-like. The business was pretty good,
+but the couple didn't look to making their fortune. Mrs. Krill was a
+farmer's daughter."
+
+"A Buckinghamshire farmer," said Paul.
+
+"How do you know? oh!"--on receiving information--"Mrs. Krill told you
+so? Well, considering the murder of Lady Rachel, she would have done
+better to hold her tongue and have commenced life with her dead
+husband's money under a new name. She's a clever woman, too," mused
+Hurd, "I can't understand her being so unnecessarily frank."
+
+"Never mind, go on," said Paul, impatiently.
+
+Hurd returned to his seat and re-filled his pipe. "Well, then," he
+continued, "Krill got drunk and gave his wife great trouble. Sometimes
+he thrashed her and blacked her eyes, and he treated their daughter
+badly too."
+
+"How old was the daughter?"
+
+"I can't say. Why do you ask?"
+
+"I'll tell you later. Go on, please."
+
+"Well, then, Mrs. Krill always revenged herself on her husband when he
+was sober and timid, so the couple were evenly matched. Krill was master
+when drunk, and his wife mistress when he was sober. A kind of see-saw
+sort of life they must have led."
+
+"Where does Lady Rachel come in?"
+
+"What an impatient chap you are," remonstrated Hurd, in a friendly tone.
+"I'm coming to that now. Lady Rachel quarrelled with her father over
+some young artist she wanted to marry. He would not allow the lover to
+come to the Hall, so Lady Rachel said she would kill herself rather than
+give him up."
+
+"And she did," said Paul, thinking of the suicide theory.
+
+"There you go again. How am I to tell you all when you interrupt."
+
+"I beg your pardon. I won't do so again."
+
+Hurd nodded smilingly and continued. "One night--it was dark and
+stormy--Lady Rachel had a row royal with her father. Then she ran out of
+the Hall saying her father would never see her alive again. She may have
+intended to commit suicide certainly, or she may have intended to join
+her lover in London. But whatever she intended to do, the rain cooled
+her. She staggered into Christchurch and fell down insensible at the
+door of 'The Red Pig.' Mrs. Krill brought her indoors and laid her on a
+bed."
+
+"Did she know who the lady was?"
+
+Hurd shook his head. "She said in her evidence that she did not, but
+living in the neighborhood, she certainly must have seen Lady Rachel
+sometimes. Krill was drunk as usual. He had been boozing all the day
+with a skipper of some craft at Southampton. He was good for nothing, so
+Mrs. Krill did everything. She declares that she went to bed at eleven
+leaving Lady Rachel sleeping."
+
+"Did Lady Rachel recover her senses?"
+
+"Yes--according to Mrs. Krill--but she refused to say who she was, and
+merely stated that she would sleep at 'The Red Pig' that night and would
+go on to London next morning. Mrs. Krill swore that Lady Rachel had no
+idea of committing suicide. Well, about midnight, Mrs. Krill, who slept
+in one room with her daughter, was awakened by loud shouts. She sprang
+to her feet and hurried out, her daughter came also, as she had been
+awakened and was terrified. Mrs. Krill found that her husband was raving
+mad with drink and smashing the furniture in the room below. The
+skipper--"
+
+"What was the skipper's name?"
+
+"Jessop--Jarvey Jessop. Well, he also, rather drunk, was retiring to bed
+and stumbled by chance into Lady Rachel's room. He found her quite dead
+and shouted for assistance. The poor lady had a silk handkerchief she
+wore tied tightly round her throat and fastened to the bedpost. When
+Jessop saw this, he ran out of the inn in dismay. Mrs. Krill descended
+to give the alarm to her neighbors, but Krill struck her down, and
+struck his daughter also, making her mouth bleed. An opal brooch that
+Lady Rachel wore was missing, but Mrs. Krill only knew of that the next
+day. She was insensible from the blow given by Krill, and the daughter
+ran out to get assistance. When the neighbors entered, Krill was gone,
+and notwithstanding all the search made for him he could not be found."
+
+"And Jessop?"
+
+"He turned up and explained that he had been frightened on finding the
+woman dead. But the police found him on his craft at Southampton, and he
+gave evidence. He said that Krill when drunk, and like a demon, as Mrs.
+Krill told you, had left the room several times. The last time he came
+back, he and the skipper had a final drink, and then Jessop retired to
+find--the body. It was supposed by the police that Krill had killed Lady
+Rachel for the sake of the brooch, which could not be discovered--"
+
+"But the brooch--"
+
+"Hold on. I know what you are about to say. We'll come to that shortly.
+Let me finish this yarn first. It was also argued that, from Lady
+Rachel's last words to her father, and from the position of the
+body--tied by the neck to the bedpost--that she had committed suicide.
+Mrs. Krill, as I said, declared the deceased lady never mentioned the
+idea of making away with herself. However, Krill's flight and the chance
+that, being drunk, he might have strangled the lady for the sake of the
+brooch while out of the room, made many think he was the culprit,
+especially as Jessop said that Krill had noticed the brooch and
+commented on the opals."
+
+"He was a traveller in jewels once, according to his wife."
+
+"Yes, and left that to turn innkeeper. Afterwards he vanished, as I say,
+and became a pawnbroker in Gwynne Street. Well, the jury at the inquest
+could not agree. Some thought Lady Rachel had committed suicide, and
+others that Krill had murdered her. Then the family didn't want a
+scandal, so in one way and another the matter was hushed up. The jury
+brought in a verdict of suicide by a majority of one, so you can see how
+equally they were divided. Lady Rachel's body was laid in the family
+vault, and nothing more was heard of Lemuel Krill."
+
+"What did Mrs. Krill do?"
+
+"She stopped on at the inn, as she told you. People were sorry for her
+and helped her, so she did very well. Mother and daughter have lived at
+'The Red Pig' all these years, highly respected, until they saw the
+hand-bills about Krill. Then the money was claimed, but as the
+circumstance of Lady Rachel's fate was so old, nobody thought of
+mentioning it till this young lord did so to you, and I--as you
+see--have hunted out the details."
+
+"What is your opinion, Hurd?" asked Paul, deeply interested.
+
+"Oh, I think Krill murdered the woman and then cut to London. That
+accounts for his looking over his shoulder, etc., about which we
+talked."
+
+"But how did he get money to start as a bookseller? Premises are not
+leased in Gwynne Street for nothing."
+
+"Well, he might have got money on the brooch."
+
+"No. The brooch was pawned by a nautical gentleman." Paul started up.
+"Captain Jessop, perhaps. You remember?" he said excitedly.
+
+"Ah," said Hurd, puffing his pipe with satisfaction, "I see you
+understand. I mentioned that about the brooch to hear what you would
+say. Yes, Jessop must have pawned the brooch at Stowley, and it must
+have been Jessop who came with the note for the jewels to Pash."
+
+"Ha," said Paul, walking excitedly about the room. "Then it would seem
+that Jessop and Krill were in league?"
+
+"I think so," said Hurd, staring at the fire. "And yet I am not sure.
+Jessop may have found that Krill had killed the woman, and then have
+made him give up the brooch, which he afterwards pawned at Stowley.
+Though why he should go near Mrs. Krill's old home, I can't understand."
+
+"Is Stowley near her old home?"
+
+"Yes--in Buckinghamshire. However, after pawning the brooch I expect
+Jessop lost sight of Krill till he must have come across him a few days
+before the crime. Then he must have made Krill sign the paper ordering
+the jewels to be given up by Pash, so that he might get money."
+
+"A kind of blackmail in fact."
+
+"Well," said Hurd, doubtfully, "after all, Jessop might have killed
+Krill himself."
+
+"But how did Jessop get the brooch?"
+
+"Ah, that I can't tell you, unless Norman himself picked it up in the
+street. We must find these things out. I'm going to Christchurch to
+make inquiries. I'll let you know what I discover," and Hurd rose.
+
+"One minute," said Paul, hastily. "Do you think Miss Krill is the dead
+man's child?"
+
+"Of course. She's as like her mother as two peas. Why do you ask?"
+
+Paul detailed what Sylvia and Deborah had said. "So if she is over
+thirty," said Beecot, "she can't be Krill's child, or else she must have
+been born before Krill married his wife. In either case, she has no
+right to the money."
+
+"It's strange," said Hurd, musingly. "I'll have to look into that.
+Meanwhile, I've got plenty to do."
+
+"There's another thing I have to say."
+
+"You'll confuse me, Beecot. What is it?"
+
+"The sugar and that hawker," and Paul related what Sylvia had said about
+Thuggism. Hurd sat down and stared. "That must be bosh," he said,
+looking at the novel, "and yet it's mighty queer. I say," he took the
+three volumes, "will you lend me these?"
+
+"Yes. Be careful. They are not mine."
+
+"I'll be careful. But I can't dip into them just yet, nor can I go into
+the Hindoo business, let alone this age of Miss Krill. The first thing I
+have to do is to go to Christchurch and see--"
+
+"And see if Mrs. Krill was at home on the night of the sixth of July."
+
+Hurd started. "Oh," said he, dryly, "the night the crime was committed,
+you mean? Well, I didn't intend to look up that point, as I do not see
+how Mrs. Krill can be implicated. However, I'll take a note of that,"
+and this he did, and then continued. "But I'm anxious to find Jessop. I
+shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that he committed the double
+crime."
+
+"The double crime?"
+
+"Yes. He might have strangled Lady Rachel, and twenty years later have
+killed Krill. I can't be sure, but I think he is the guilty person."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AT CHRISTCHURCH, HANTS
+
+
+The next afternoon Hurd was on his way to the former abode of Mrs.
+Krill. During the journey he glanced at his notes and arranged what
+inquiries he should make. It struck him as strange that Mrs. Krill
+should have told Paul of her association with "The Red Pig," considering
+the reputation of the place, in connection with Lady Rachel Sandal's
+murder--or suicide. It would have been better had Mrs. Krill changed her
+name by letters patent and have started a new life on her dead husband's
+money. The detective could not understand the reason for this
+unnecessary frankness.
+
+Before leaving town he took the precaution to call on Pash and note down
+a description of the sailor--presumably Jessop--who had tried to obtain
+possession of the jewels on the morning after the crime had been
+committed in Gwynne Street. He learned that the man (who had given no
+name) was tall and stout, with the flushed skin of a habitual drinker of
+strong waters, and reddish hair mixed with grey. He also had a scar
+running from his right temple to his mouth, and although this was partly
+concealed by a beard, yet it was distinctly visible. The man was dressed
+in blue serge, carried his large hands slightly clenched, and rolled in
+his gait. Hurd noted these things down, and had little doubt but what he
+would recognize the man if he came across him. Connecting him with the
+individual who had pawned the brooch at Stowley, Hurd fancied he might
+be Jessop. He resolved to look for him in Southampton, as, judging from
+the evidence given at the inquest on Lady Rachel's remains, that was the
+port of call for the mariner.
+
+At the station immediately before that of Christchurch, Hurd glanced at
+a telegram which he produced out of his pocket-book, and then leaned out
+of the carriage window. A pretty, daintily-dressed little woman saw him
+and at once entered the carriage with a gay laugh. She was Miss Aurora
+Qian, and Paul would have been considerably astonished had he overheard
+her conversation with Mr. Hurd. But the detective and the actress had
+the compartment to themselves, and talked freely.
+
+"It's the safest place to talk in," explained Miss Qian, producing a bag
+of chocolate and eating during the conversation. "Of course, I told the
+landlady at 'The Red Pig' that my brother was coming down, so we can go
+there right enough. But walls have ears. I don't think railway carriages
+have, though, and we have much to say, Billy."
+
+"Have you found out anything, Aurora?" asked Hurd.
+
+Miss Qian nodded. "A great deal considering I have been in the place
+only twenty-four hours. It's a good thing I'm out of an engagement,
+Billy, or I shouldn't have time to leave London or to look after that
+man Hay. I _am_ a good sister."
+
+"Well, you are. But there's money in the business also. If I can get
+that thousand pounds, you'll have your share."
+
+"I know you'll treat me straight, Billy," said the actress, with much
+satisfaction. "I always say that my brother is as square a man as I
+know."
+
+"The deuce you do," said Hurd, rather vexed. "I hope you don't go
+telling everyone that I am your brother, Aurora?"
+
+"Only one or two special friends--not Hay, you may be sure. Nor does
+that nice Mr. Beecot know that we are brother and sister."
+
+"You'd best keep it dark, and say nothing, Aurora. It's just as well you
+left the private detective business and went on the stage. You talk too
+much."
+
+"Oh, no, I don't," retorted Miss Qian, eating a sweet. "Don't be nasty,
+Billy, or I'll tell you nothing."
+
+Her brother shrugged his shoulders. He was very fond of Aurora, but he
+saw her many faults, and she certainly had too long a tongue for one
+engaged in private matters. "What about Hay?" he asked.
+
+Aurora raised her eyes. "I thought you wanted to know of my discoveries
+at Christchurch," she said, pouting.
+
+"Well, I do. But Hay?--"
+
+"Oh, he's all right. He's going to marry Miss Krill and her money, and
+is getting cash together by fleecing young Sandal. That fool _will_
+play, and keeps losing his money, although I've warned him."
+
+"Then don't warn him. I wish to catch Hay red-handed."
+
+"Ah," Miss Qian nodded, "you may catch him red-handed in a worse matter
+than gambling."
+
+"Aurora, you don't mean to say he has anything to do with the murder of
+Aaron Norman?"
+
+"Well, I don't go so far as to say that, Billy. But when I got settled
+in the private sitting-room of 'The Red Pig' on the plea that I had come
+down for a change of air, and expected my brother--"
+
+"Which you do without any lies."
+
+"Yes, that's all right, Billy," she said impatiently. "Well, the first
+thing I clapped eyes on was a portrait of Grexon Hay in a silver frame
+on the mantelpiece."
+
+"Hum," said Hurd, nursing his chin in his hand, "he may have given that
+to Miss Krill during the engagement."
+
+"I daresay," rejoined the actress, tartly, "for he has been engaged for
+many a long day--say two years."
+
+"I thought so," said Hurd, triumphantly. "I always fancied the meeting
+at Pash's office was a got-up thing."
+
+"What made you think so?"
+
+"Because, when disguised as the Count de la Tour, I overheard Hay
+address Miss Krill as Maud, and it was the first time she and her mother
+came to his rooms. Sandal was there, and gambling went on as usual. I
+lost money myself," said Hurd, with a grimace, "in order to make Hay
+think I was another pigeon to pluck. But the mention of the Christian
+name on so short an acquaintance showed me that Hay and Miss Krill had
+met before. I expect the meeting at Pash's office was a got-up game."
+
+"You said that before, Billy. How you repeat yourself! Yes. There's an
+inscription on the portrait--'From Grexon to Maud with much
+love'--sweet, isn't it? when you think what an icicle the man is. There
+is also a date--two years ago the photograph was given. I admired the
+photograph and asked the landlady who was the swell."
+
+"What's the landlady's name?"
+
+"Matilda Junk."
+
+Hurd almost jumped from his seat. "That's queer," he said, "the woman
+who is devoted to Miss Norman and who nursed her since she was a baby is
+called Deborah Junk."
+
+"I know that," said Aurora, "I'm not quite a fool, Billy. I mentioned
+Deborah Junk, whom I saw at the inquest on Norman's body. The landlady
+said she was her sister, but she had not heard of her for ages. And this
+Matilda is just like Deborah in looks--a large Dutch doll with beady
+eyes and a badly painted face."
+
+"Well, that's a point," said Hurd, making a note. "What did she say
+about the photograph?"
+
+"Oh, that it was one of Mr. Hay who was Miss Krill's young man, and that
+they had been engaged for two years--"
+
+"Matilda seems to be a chatterbox."
+
+"She is. I got a lot out of her."
+
+"Then there can be nothing to conceal on the part of Mrs. Krill?"
+
+"Well," said Aurora, throwing the empty sweetmeat bag out of the window
+and brushing her lap, "so far as I can discover, Mrs. Krill is a
+perfectly respectable person, and has lived for thirty years as the
+landlady of 'The Red Pig.' Matilda acknowledged that her mistress had
+inherited the money of Lemuel Krill, and Matilda knows all about the
+murder."
+
+"Matilda is wrong," said the detective, dryly; "Miss Krill gets the
+money."
+
+Aurora smiled. "From what I heard, Miss Krill has to do what her mother
+tells her. She's nobody and her mother is all the world. Matilda
+confessed that her mistress had behaved very well to her. When the money
+came, she gave up 'The Red Pig' to Matilda Junk, who is now the
+landlady."
+
+"With a proviso she should hold her tongue."
+
+"No. Mrs. Krill, so far as I can learn, has nothing to conceal. Even if
+it becomes known in London that she was the landlady of a small pub, I
+don't think it will matter."
+
+"Did you ask questions about Lady Rachel's murder?"
+
+"No. You gave me only a hint when you sent me down. I didn't like to
+venture on ground I wasn't sure of. I'm more cautious than you."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you everything now," said Hurd, and gave a rapid sketch
+of what he had learned from the newspapers and the Scotland Yard papers
+relative to the Sandal affair. Aurora nodded.
+
+"But Matilda Junk said nothing of that. She merely stated that Mr.
+Lemuel Krill had gone to London over twenty years ago, and that his wife
+knew nothing of him until she saw the hand-bills."
+
+"Hum," said Hurd again, as the train slowed down to the Christchurch
+station, "it seems all fair and above board. What about Jessop?"
+
+"Knowing so little of the Lady Rachel case, I didn't inquire about him,"
+said Aurora. "I've told you everything."
+
+"Anyone else stopping at the inn?"
+
+"No. And it's not a bad little place after all. The rooms are clean and
+the food good and the charges low. I'd rather stop at 'The Red Pig,'
+small as it is, than at the big hotel. The curries--oh, they are
+delightfully hot!" Miss Qian screwed her small face into a smile of
+ecstasy. "But, then, a native makes them."
+
+Hurd started. "Curries--a native?"
+
+"Yes--a man called Hokar."
+
+"Aurora, that's the man who left the sugar on the counter of Norman's
+shop. I forgot you don't know about that," and Hurd rapidly told her of
+the episode.
+
+"It's strange," said Miss Qian, nodding with a faraway look. "It would
+seem that Mrs. Krill knew of the whereabouts of her husband before she
+saw the hand-bills."
+
+"And possibly about the murder also," said Hurd.
+
+Brother and sister looked at one another; the case was becoming more and
+more interesting. Mrs. Krill evidently knew more than she chose to
+admit. But at this moment the train stopped, and they got out. Hurd took
+his handbag and walked into the town with his pretty sister tripping
+beside him. She gave him an additional piece of information before they
+arrived at "The Red Pig." "This Hokar is not at all popular," she said;
+"they say he eats cats and dogs. Yes. I've talked to several old women,
+and they say they lost their animals. One cat was found strangled in the
+yard, and--"
+
+"Strangled!" interrupted the detective. "Hum, and the man's an Indian,
+possibly a Thug."
+
+"What's a Thug?" asked Aurora, staring.
+
+Hurd explained. "I ran through the book lent by Beecot last night," he
+added, "and was so interested I sat up till dawn--"
+
+"You do look chippy," said his sister, candidly, "but from what you say,
+there are no Thugs living."
+
+"No, the author says so. Still, it's queer, this strangling, and then
+the cruel way in which the man was murdered. Just what a Hindoo would
+do. The sugar too--"
+
+"Oh, nonsense! Hokar left the sugar by mistake. If he had intended to
+murder Norman he wouldn't have given himself away."
+
+"I expect he never thought anyone would guess he was a Thug. The novel
+is not one usually read nowadays. It was the merest chance that Miss
+Norman came across it and told Beecot."
+
+"I don't believe in such coincidences," said Aurora, dryly; for in spite
+of her fluffy, kittenish looks, she was a very practical person. "But
+here we are at 'The Red Pig.' Nice and comfy, isn't it?"
+
+The inn was certainly very pretty. It stood on the very verge of the
+town, and beyond stretched fields and hedgerows. The house itself was a
+white-washed, thatched, rustic cottage, with a badly painted sign of a
+large red sow. Outside were benches, where topers sat, and the windows
+were delightfully old-fashioned, diamond-paned casements. Quite a
+Dickens inn of the old coaching days was "The Red Pig."
+
+But Hurd gave the pretty, quaint hostel only a passing glance. He was
+staring at a woman who stood in the doorway shading her eyes with the
+palm of her hand from the setting sun. In her the detective saw the
+image of Deborah Junk, now Tawsey. She was of the same gigantic build,
+with the same ruddy face, sharp, black eyes and boisterous manner. But
+she had not the kindly look of Deborah, and of the two sisters Hurd
+preferred the one he already knew.
+
+"This is my brother, Miss Junk," said Aurora, marching up to the door;
+"he will only stay until to-morrow."
+
+"You're welcome, sir," said Matilda in a loud and hearty voice, which
+reminded the detective more than ever of her sister. "Will you please
+walk in and 'ave some tea?"
+
+Hurd nodded and repaired to the tiny sitting-room, where he saw the
+photograph of Hay on the mantelpiece. Aurora, at a hint from her
+brother, went to her bedroom to change her dress, and Hurd spoke to
+Matilda, when she brought in the tray. "I know your sister," said he.
+
+Miss Junk nearly dropped the tray. "Lor', now, only think! Why, we ain't
+wrote to one another for ten years. And I left London eleven years back.
+And how is she, sir? and where is she?"
+
+"She is well; she has a laundry in Jubileetown near London, and she is
+married to a fellow called Bart Tawsey."
+
+"Married!" cried Matilda, setting down the tray and putting her arms
+akimbo, just like Deborah, "lor', and me still single. But now I've got
+this 'ouse, and a bit put by, I'll think of gittin' a 'usband. I ain't
+a-goin' to let Debby crow over me."
+
+"Your sister was in the service of Mr. Norman before she took up the
+laundry," observed Hurd, pouring out a cup of tea.
+
+"Was she, now? And why did she leave?"
+
+The name of Norman apparently was unknown to Matilda, so Hurd tried the
+effect of another bombshell. "Her master was murdered under the name of
+Lemuel Krill."
+
+"Mercy," Matilda dropped into a chair, with a thud which shook the room;
+"why, that's my ladies' husband and father."
+
+"What ladies?" asked Hurd, pretending ignorance.
+
+"My ladies, Mrs. Krill and Miss Maud. They had this 'ouse, and kep' it
+for years respectable. I worked for 'em ten, and when my ladies comes in
+for a forting, for a forting there is, they gave me the goodwill of 'The
+Red Pig.' To think of Debby being the servant of poor Mr. Krill as was
+killed. Who killed 'im?"
+
+"Doesn't your mistress know?"
+
+"She," cried Matilda, indignantly, and bouncing up. "Why, she was always
+a-lookin' for him, not as she loved him over much. And as he is dead,
+sir, it's no more as what he oughter be, seeing as he killed a poor lady
+in this very 'ouse. You'll sleep in 'er room to-night," added Matilda,
+as if that was a pleasure. "Strangled, she was."
+
+"I think I heard of that. But Lady Rachel Sandal committed suicide."
+
+Matilda rubbed her nose, after the Deborah fashion. "Well, sir, my
+ladies were never sure which it was, and, of course, it was before my
+time considerable, being more nor twenty year back. But the man as did
+it is dead, and lef' my ladies his money, as he oughter. An' Miss Maud's
+a-goin' to marry a real gent"--Matilda glanced at the photograph--"I
+allays said he wos a gent, bein' so 'aughty like, and wearing evening
+dress at meals, late."
+
+"Was he ever down here, this gentleman?"
+
+"He's been comin' and goin' fur months, and Miss Maud loves 'im
+somethin' cruel. But they'll marry now an' be 'appy."
+
+"I suppose your ladies sometimes went to see this gent in town?"
+
+"Meanin' Mr. Hay," said Matilda, artlessly. "Well, sir, they did, one at
+a time and then together. Missis would go and miss would foller, an'
+miss an' missus together would take their joy of the Towers an' shops
+and Madame Tusord's and sich like, Mr. Hay allays lookin' after 'em."
+
+"Did they ever visit Mr. Hay in July?"
+
+"No, they didn't," snapped Matilda, with a change of tone which did not
+escape Hurd; "and I don't know, sir, why you arsk them questions."
+
+"My good woman, I ask no questions. If I do, you need not reply. Let us
+change the subject. My sister tells me you make good curries in this
+hotel."
+
+"Hokar do, me bein' but a plain cook."
+
+"Oh! He's an Indian?"
+
+"Yes, he is, sir. A pore Indian castaway as missus took up with when he
+come here drenched with rain and weary. Ah, missus was allays good and
+kind and Christian-like."
+
+Privately Hurd thought this description did not apply very well to the
+lady in question, but he was careful not to arouse Matilda's suspicions
+again by contradicting her. He pretended to joke. "I wonder you don't
+marry this Indian, and keep him here always to make the curries I have
+heard of."
+
+"Me marry a black!" cried Matilda, tossing her rough head. "Well, sir, I
+never," her breath failed her, "an' him goin' about the country."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"What I say," said Miss Junk; "he'll stop here, Christian-like, for
+days, and then go orf to sell things as a 'awker. My par was a 'awker,
+sir, but a white, white man of the finest."
+
+Hurd was about to ask another question when a husky voice was heard
+singing somewhat out of tune. "What's that?" asked Hurd, irritably.
+
+"Lor', sir, wot nervses you 'ave. 'Tis only Cap'n Jessop makin' hisself
+'appy-like."
+
+"Captain Jessop," Hurd laughed. He had run down his man at last.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+CAPTAIN JESSOP
+
+
+Apparently Matilda Junk was quite ignorant of anything being wrong about
+her ladies, although she did shirk the question regarding their possible
+visit to London in July. However, Hurd had learned that Grexon Hay not
+only was an old friend, but had been engaged to Maud for many months.
+This information made him the more certain that Hay had robbed Beecot of
+the opal brooch at the time of the accident, and that it had passed from
+Mr. Hay's hands into those of the assassin.
+
+"I wonder if Mrs. Krill murdered her husband in that cruel way," thought
+the detective, sitting over his tea; "but what could have been her
+object? She could have gone up on learning from Hay that Aaron Norman
+was her husband--as I believe she did--and could then have made him give
+her the money, by threatening him with the murder of Lady Rachel. I
+daresay Aaron Norman in his Krill days did strangle that lady to get the
+opal brooch and his wife could have used what she knew to govern him.
+There was no need of murder. Hum! I'll see about getting the truth out
+of Hay. Aurora," he cried. "Oh, there you are," he added, as she entered
+the room. "I want you to go back to town this night."
+
+"What for, Billy?"
+
+"Can you get Hay into trouble?"
+
+Aurora nodded. "I have proofs of his cheating Lord George and others,
+if that's what you mean," she said; "but you didn't want them used."
+
+"Nor do I. He's such an eel, he may wriggle out of our clutches. But
+can't you give a party and invite Lord George and Hay, and then get them
+to play cards. Should Hay cheat, denounce him to George Sandal."
+
+"What good would that do?" asked Miss Qian, with widely open eyes.
+
+"It will make Hay confess about the brooch to save himself from public
+shame. His reputation is his life, remember, and if he is caught
+red-handed cheating, he'll have to clear out of town."
+
+"Pooh, as if that mattered. He's going to marry Miss Krill."
+
+"If Miss Krill keeps the money, and I doubt if she will."
+
+"But, Billy--"
+
+"Never mind. Don't ask me any more questions, but go and pack. This
+Captain Jessop is in the bar drinking. I may probably have to arrest
+him. I got a warrant on the chance of finding him here. I can arrest him
+on suspicion, and won't let him go until I get at the truth. Your
+business is to bring Hay to his knees and get the truth out of him about
+the opal serpent. You know the case?"
+
+"Yes," grumbled Aurora, "I know the case. But I don't like this long
+journey to-night."
+
+"Every moment is precious. If I arrest Jessop, Matilda Junk will tell
+her ladies, who will speak to Hay, and then he may slip away. As the
+brooch evidence is so particular, and, as I believe he can give it, if
+forced, you can see the importance of losing no time."
+
+Miss Qian nodded and went away to pack. She wanted money and knew Billy
+would give her a goodly share of the reward. In a few minutes Miss Junk,
+of "The Red Pig," learned that Miss Qian was suddenly summoned to town
+and would leave in an hour. Quite unsuspectingly she assisted her to
+pack, and shortly Aurora was driving in a hired vehicle to the railway
+station on her way to trap Grexon Hay.
+
+When she was safely off the premises, Hurd walked to the telegraph
+office, and sent a cipher message to the Yard, asking for a couple of
+plain clothes policemen to be sent down. He wanted to have Hokar and
+Miss Matilda Junk watched, also the house, in case Mrs. Krill and her
+daughter should return. Captain Jessop he proposed to look after
+himself. But he was in no hurry to make that gentleman's acquaintance,
+as he intended to arrest him quietly in the sitting-room after dinner.
+Already he had informed Matilda that he would ask a gentleman to join
+him at the meal and taste Hokar's curry.
+
+The thought of the curry brought the Indian to his mind, and when he got
+back to the Red Pig, he strolled round the house, inspecting the place,
+but in reality keeping eyes and ears open to talk to the Hindoo.
+Thinking he might meet the man some time, Hurd had carefully learned a
+few phrases relating to Thuggism--in English of course, since he knew
+nothing of the Indian tongues. These he proposed to use in the course of
+conversation with Hokar and watch the effect. Soon he found the man
+sitting cross-legged under a tree in the yard, smoking. Evidently his
+work for the day was over, and he was enjoying himself. Remembering the
+description given by Bart, the detective saw that this was the very man
+who had entered the shop of Aaron Norman. He wore the same dress and
+looked dirty and disreputable--quite a waif and a stray.
+
+"Hullo," said Hurd, casually, "what are you doing. Talk English, eh?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Hokar, calmly. "I spike good Englis. Missionary teach
+Hokar Englis."
+
+"I'm glad of that; we can have a chat," said Hurd, producing his pipe.
+He also produced something else with which he had provided himself on
+the way back from the post-office. In another minute Hokar was staring
+at a small parcel of coarse brown sugar. With all his Oriental phlegm
+the man could not keep his countenance. His eyes rolled until they
+threatened to drop out of his head, and he looked at Hurd with a certain
+amount of fear. "Goor," said that gentleman, pointing to the sugar with
+the stem of his pipe, "goor!"
+
+Hokar turned green under his dark skin, and half-rose to go away, but
+his legs failed him, and he sat still trying to recover himself. "So you
+worship Bhowanee?" went on his tormentor.
+
+The Indian's face expressed lively curiosity. "The great goddess."
+
+"Yes. Kalee, you know. Did you make Tupounee after you used your roomal
+on Aaron Norman?"
+
+Hokar gave a guttural cry and gasped. Tupounee is the sacrifice made by
+the Thugs after a successful crime, and roomal the handkerchief with
+which they strangled their victims. All this was information culled from
+Colonel Meadow Taylor's book by the accomplished detective. "Well," said
+Hurd, smoking placidly, "what have you to say, Mr. Hokar?"
+
+"I know nozzin'," said the man, sullenly, but in deadly fear.
+
+"Yes, you do. Sit still," said Hurd, with sudden sternness. "If you try
+to run away, I'll have you arrested. Eyes are on you, and you can't take
+a step without my knowing."
+
+Some of this was Greek to the Indian, owing to his imperfect knowledge
+of English. But he understood that the law would lay hold of him if he
+did not obey this Sahib, and so sat still. "I know not anysing," he
+repeated, his teeth chattering.
+
+"Yes, you do. You're a Thug."
+
+"Zer no Thug."
+
+"I agree with you," said Hurd; "you are the last of the Mohicans. I want
+to know why you offered Aaron Norman to Bhowanee?"
+
+Hokar made a strange sign on his forehead at the mention of the sacred
+name, and muttered something--perhaps a prayer--in his native tongue.
+Then he looked up. "I know nozzing."
+
+"Don't repeat that rubbish," said Hurd, calmly; "you sold boot laces in
+the shop in Gwynne Street on the day when its master was killed. And he
+was the husband of the lady who helped you--Mrs. Krill."
+
+"You say dat," said Hokar, stolidly.
+
+"Yes, and I can prove it. The boy Tray--and I can lay my hands on
+him--saw you, also Bart Tawsey, the shopman. You left a handful of
+sugar, though why you did so instead of eating it, I can't understand."
+
+Hokar's face lighted up, and he showed his teeth disdainfully. "Oh, you
+Sahibs know nozzin'!" said he, spreading out his lean brown hands. "Ze
+shops--ah, yis. I there, yis. But I use no roomal."
+
+"Not then, but you did later."
+
+Hokar shook his head. "I use no roomal. Zat Sahib one eye--bad, ver bad.
+Bhowanee, no have one eye. No Bhungees, no Bhats, no--"
+
+"What are you talking about?" said Hurd, angrily. His reading had not
+told him that no maimed persons could be offered to the goddess of the
+Thugs. Bhungees meant sweepers, and Bhats bards, both of which classes
+were spared by the stranglers. "You killed that man. Now, who told you
+to kill him?"
+
+"I know nozzin', I no kill. Bhowanee no take one-eye mans."
+
+For want of an interpreter Hurd found it difficult to carry on the
+conversation. He rose and determined to postpone further examination
+till he would get someone who understood the Hindoo tongue. But in the
+meantime Hokar might run away, and Hurd rather regretted that he had
+been so precipitate. However, he nodded to the man and went off, pretty
+sure he would not fly at once.
+
+Then Hurd went to the village police-office, and told a bucolic
+constable to keep his eye on Miss Junk's "fureiner," as he learned Hokar
+was called. The policeman, a smooth-faced individual, promised to do so,
+after Hurd produced his credentials, and sauntered towards "The Red
+Pig," at some distance from the detective's heels. A timely question
+about the curry revealed, by the mouth of Miss Junk, that Hokar was
+still in the kitchen. "But he do seem alarmed-like," said Matilda,
+laying the cloth.
+
+"Let's hope he won't spoil the curry," remarked Hurd. Then, knowing
+Hokar was safe, he went into the bar to make the acquaintance of his
+other victim.
+
+Captain Jarvey Jessop quite answered to the description given by Pash.
+He was large and sailor-like, with red hair mixed with grey and a red
+beard that scarcely concealed the scar running from temple to mouth. He
+had drunk enough to make him cheerful and was quite willing to fall into
+conversation with Hurd, who explained himself unnecessarily. "I'm a
+commercial gent," said the detective, calling for two rums, plain, "and
+I like talking."
+
+"Me, too," growled the sailor, grasping his glass. "I'm here on what
+you'd call a visit, but I go back to my home to-morrow. Then it's ho for
+Callao," he shouted in a sing-song voice.
+
+Hurd knew the fierce old chanty and sized Captain Jarvey up at once. He
+was of the buccaneer type, and there was little he would not do to make
+money and have a roaring time. Failing Hokar, with his deadly
+handkerchief, here was the man who might have killed Aaron Norman.
+"Drink up," shouted Hurd in his turn, "we'll have some more.
+
+    "On no condition, is extradition,
+        Allowed in Callao."
+
+"Gum," said Captain Jessop, "you know the chanty."
+
+Hurd winked. "I've bin round about in my time."
+
+Jessop stretched out a huge hand. "Put it there, mate," said he, with a
+roar like a fog-horn, "and drink up along o' me. My treat."
+
+Hurd nodded and became jovial. "On condition you join me at dinner. They
+make good curries here."
+
+"I've had curry," said Captain Jessop, heavily, "in Colombo and
+Hong-Kong frequent, but Hokar's curries are the best."
+
+"Ah!" said Hurd in a friendly curious way, "so you know this shanty?"
+
+Jessop looked at him with contempt. "Know this shanty," said he, with a
+grin, "why, in coorse, I do. I've been swinging my hammock here time in
+and out for the last thirty year."
+
+"You'll be a Christchurch man, then?"
+
+"Not me, mate. I'm Buckinghamshire. Stowley born."
+
+Hurd with difficulty suppressed a start. Stowley was the place where the
+all-important brooch had been pawned by a nautical man, and here was the
+man in question. "I should have thought you'd lived near the sea," he
+said cautiously, "say Southampton."
+
+"Oh, I used t'go there for my ship," said the captain, draining his
+glass, "but I don't go there no more."
+
+"Retired, eh?"
+
+Jessop nodded and looked at his friend--as he considered Hurd, since the
+invitation to dinner--with a blood-shot pair of eyes. "Come storm, come
+calm," he growled, "I've sailed the ocean for forty years. Yes, sir,
+you bet. I was a slip of a fifteen cabin-boy on my first cruise, and
+then I got on to being skipper. Lord," Jessop smacked his knee, "the
+things I've seen!"
+
+"We'll have them to-night after dinner," said Hurd, nodding; "but now, I
+suppose, you've made your fortune."
+
+"No," said the captain, gloomily, "not what you'd call money. I've got a
+stand-by, though," and he winked.
+
+"Ah! Married to a rich wife?"
+
+"Not me. I've had enough of marriage, having been the skipper of a
+mermaid with a tongue. No, sir," he roared out another line of some song
+floating in his muzzy head, "a saucy bachelor am I," then changed to
+gruff talk, "and I intends being one all my days. Stand-by, I
+have--t'ain't a wife, but I can draw the money regular, and no questions
+asked." Again he winked and drank another glass.
+
+Hurd reflected that perhaps Jessop had killed Aaron Norman for Mrs.
+Krill, and she was paying him blood-money. But he did not dare to press
+the question, as Jessop was coming perilously near what the Irish call
+"the cross drop." He therefore proposed an adjournment to the
+sitting-room. Jessop agreed quite unsuspectingly, not guessing he was
+being trapped. The man was so large and uncouth that Hurd felt behind
+his waist to see that his revolver was loose and could be used should
+occasion arise.
+
+Miss Junk brought in the dinner with her own fair hands, and explained
+that Hokar had made the curry, but she didn't think it was as good as
+usual. "The man's shakin' like a jelly," said Matilda. "I don't know
+why."
+
+The detective nodded, but did not encourage conversation. He was quite
+sure that Hokar was being watched by the smooth-faced policeman, and
+could not get away. Besides, he wished to talk to Captain Jessop. Miss
+Junk, seeing that she was not needed, retreated, after bringing in the
+curry, and left the gentlemen to help themselves. So here was Hurd in a
+pleasant room, seated before a well-spread table, and with a roaring
+fire at his back, waiting his opportunity to make Captain Jarvey Jessop
+confess his share in the dual murders of Lady Rachel Sandal and Aaron
+Norman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+PART OF THE TRUTH
+
+
+Captain Jessop ate as greedily as he drank strong waters, and did full
+justice to the curry, which was really excellent. Hurd did not broach
+any unpleasant topic immediately, as he wished the man to enjoy his
+meal. If Jessop was guilty, this dainty dinner would be the last of its
+kind he would have for many a long day. Moreover, Hurd wished to learn
+more of the mariner's character, and plied him with questions, which the
+unsuspecting sailor answered amiably enough.
+
+"Me an' you might become mates, as it were," said Jessop, extending his
+large hand again and again. "Put it there."
+
+"Well, we'd want to know something more about one another to become real
+mates," laughed Hurd.
+
+"Oh, you're a commercial traveller, as you say, and I'm the captain of
+as fine a barkey as ever sailed under Capricorn. Leastways I was, afore
+I gave up deep-sea voyages."
+
+"You must miss the ocean, living at Stowley."
+
+"Inland it is," admitted the mariner, pulling out a dirty clay pipe, at
+the conclusion of the meal, "and ocean there ain't round about fur
+miles. But I've got a shanty there, and live respectable."
+
+"You are able to, with the stand-by," hinted Hurd.
+
+Jessop nodded and crammed black tobacco, very strong and rank, into the
+bowl of his pipe with a shaking hand. "It ain't much," he admitted;
+"folks being stingy. But if I wants more," he struck the table hard, "I
+can get it. D'ye see, Mister Commercial?"
+
+"Yes, I see," replied Hurd, coolly. Jessop was again growing cross, and
+the detective had to be careful. He knew well enough that next morning,
+when sober, Jessop would not be so disposed to talk, but being muzzy, he
+opened his heart freely. Still, it was evident that a trifle more liquor
+would make him quarrelsome, so Hurd proposed coffee, a proposition to
+which the sailor graciously assented.
+
+"Cawfee," he observed, lighting his pipe, and filling the room with
+evil-smelling smoke, "clears the 'ead, not as mine wants clearing, mind
+you. But cawfee ain't bad, when rum ain't t' be 'ad."
+
+"You'll have more rum later," hinted Hurd.
+
+"Put it there," said Jessop, and again the detective was forced to wince
+at the strong grip of a horny hand.
+
+Miss Junk appeared in answer to the tinkle of the bell and removed the
+food. Afterwards she brought in coffee, hot and strong and black, and
+Jessop drank two cups, with the result that he became quieter. Then the
+two men settled down for a pleasant conversation. At least, Jessop
+thought so, for he frequently expressed the friendliest sentiments
+towards his host. Then Matilda appeared with a bottle of rum, a kettle
+and two glasses. When she departed, Hurd intimated that he would not
+require her services again that night. This he whispered to her at the
+door, while Jessop was placing the kettle on the fire, and before
+returning to his seat, he quietly turned the key. So he had the mariner
+entirely to himself and got to business at once while the kettle boiled.
+
+"You have known this place for years I believe," said Hurd, taking a
+chair opposite to that of Jessop. "Did you ever drop across a man, who
+used to live here, called Lemuel Krill?"
+
+The other man started. "Whatever makes you arsk that?" he inquired in a
+husky voice.
+
+"Well, you see, as a commercial I trade in books, and had to do with a
+second-hand bookseller in Gwynne Street, Drury Lane. It seems that he
+was murdered," and he eyed Jessop attentively.
+
+The sailor nodded and composed himself with a violent effort. "Yes,"
+said he in his husky voice, "so I heard. But what's he got to do with
+Lemuel Krill?"
+
+"Oh," said Hurd, carelessly, "it is said Aaron Norman was Krill."
+
+"Might ha' bin. I don't know myself," was the gruff reply.
+
+"Ah! Then you did not know Lemuel Krill?"
+
+"Well," admitted the captain, reluctantly, "I did. He wos the landlord
+of this here pub, and a cuss to drink. Lor', 'ow he could drink, and did
+too. But he run away from his wife as used to keep this shanty, and she
+never heard no more of him."
+
+"Until she found he was rich and could leave her five thousand a year,"
+said Hurd, absently; "so like a woman."
+
+"You seem to know all about it, mister?" said the sailor, uneasily.
+
+"Yes, I read the papers. A queer case that of Norman's death. I expect
+it was only right he should be strangled seeing he killed Lady Rachel
+Sandal in the same way."
+
+Jessop, resting his hands on the arms of his chair, pushed it back and
+stared with a white face. "You know of that?" he gasped.
+
+"Why not? It was public talk in this place over twenty years ago. I
+understand you have been here-abouts for thirty years," went on Hurd,
+carelessly, "possibly you may recollect the case."
+
+Jessop wiped his forehead. "I heard something about it. That there lady
+committed suicide they say."
+
+"I know what they say, but I want to know what you say?"
+
+"I won't be arsked questions," shouted the captain, angrily.
+
+"Don't raise your voice," said the detective, smoothly; "we may as well
+conduct this conversation pleasantly."
+
+"I don't converse no more," said Jessop in a shaky voice, and staggered
+to his feet, rapidly growing sober under the influence of a deadly fear.
+Hurd did not move as the man crossed the room, but felt if the key was
+safe in his pocket. The sailor tried to open the door, and then realized
+that it was locked. He turned on his host with a volley of bad language,
+and found himself facing a levelled revolver.
+
+"Sit down," said Hurd, quietly; "go back to your chair."
+
+Jessop, with staring eyes and outspread hands, backed to the wall. "Who
+are you anyhow?" he demanded, hardly able to speak.
+
+"Perhaps that will tell you," said Hurd, and threw the warrant on the
+table. Jessop staggered forward and looked at it. One glance was
+sufficient to inform him what it was, and he sank back into his chair
+with a groan, leaving the warrant on the table. Hurd picked it up and
+slipped it into his pocket. He thought Jessop might destroy it; but
+there was no fight in the mariner.
+
+"And now that we understand one another," said Hurd, putting away his
+weapon, "I want to talk."
+
+"Sha'n't talk," said Jessop, savagely.
+
+"Oh, yes, I think so; otherwise I can make things unpleasant for you."
+
+"You can't arrest me. I've done nothing."
+
+"That may be so, but arrest you I can and I have done so now. To-morrow
+morning you will go to London in charge of a plain-clothes policeman,
+while I go to Stowley."
+
+"To my crib. No, I'm blest if you do."
+
+"I sha'n't go immediately to your crib," rejoined Hurd, dryly, "though I
+may do so later. My first visit will be to that old pawnbroker. I think
+if I describe you--and you are rather a noticeable man, Captain
+Jessop--he will recognize the individual who pawned an opal serpent
+brooch with him shortly after the death of Lady Rachel Sandal, to whom
+the said brooch belonged."
+
+"It's a lie," said Jessop hoarsely, and sober enough now.
+
+"Quite so, and perhaps it is also a lie that a man resembling yourself
+tried to get certain jewellery from a lawyer called Pash--"
+
+Jessop lost his self-control, which he was trying desperately to
+preserve, and rose to his feet, white-faced and haggard. "Who are you?"
+he shouted, "who are you?"
+
+"Doesn't the warrant tell you," replied his companion, not at all upset.
+"My name is Billy Hurd. I am the detective in charge of the Norman
+murder case. And I've been looking for you for a long time, Mr. Jessop."
+
+"I know nothing about it."
+
+"Yes, you do; so sit down and talk away."
+
+"I'll break your head," cried the captain, swinging his huge fists.
+
+"Try," Hurd whipped out his revolver, but did not rise, "at the risk of
+getting a bullet through you. Pshaw, man, don't be a fool. I'm making
+things as easy for you as possible. Create a disturbance, and I'll hand
+you over to the police. A night in the village lock-up may cool your
+blood. Sit down I tell you."
+
+The sailor showed his teeth like those of a snarling dog and made as to
+strike the seated detective; but suddenly changing his mind, for he saw
+well enough in what danger he stood, he dropped into his chair, and,
+covering his face with his hands, groaned aloud. Hurd put away his
+revolver. "That's better," said he, pleasantly; "take a tot of rum and
+tell me all you know."
+
+"I'm innocent," groaned Jessop.
+
+"Every man is innocent until convicted by a jury," said Hurd, calmly.
+"Consider me a jury and I'll size up your case, when I hear all. Are you
+innocent of both murders?"
+
+"Lady Rachel committed suicide," said Jessop, raising a haggard face.
+"Yes--I stick to that, sir. As to Krill's death in London, I didn't
+touch him; I swear I didn't."
+
+"But you saw him on that night?"
+
+"How can you prove that?"
+
+"Very simply. Norman--or Krill if you prefer the old name--took certain
+jewellery to Pash for safe keeping shortly before his death. You
+presented to Pash a paper, undeniably written and signed by the old man,
+saying that the jewellery was to be given up to bearer. Now, before
+taking the jewellery to Pash, Krill could not have written that paper,
+so you must have seen him during the few hours which elapsed between his
+visit to Pash and his death."
+
+This was clearly argued, and Jessop could not contradict. "I left him
+quite well and hearty."
+
+"In the cellar in Gwynne Street?"
+
+"Yes, in the cellar," admitted Jessop.
+
+"At what time?"
+
+"About half-past eight--say between eight and nine."
+
+"Well, what happened?" asked Hurd, smoking quietly.
+
+The sailor twisted his big hands and groaned. Then he laid his head on
+the table and began to sob, talking brokenly and huskily. "I'm done
+for," he gasped. "I'd know'd it would come--no--I ain't sorry. I've had
+a nightmare of a time. Oh--since I pawned that brooch--"
+
+"Ah. Then you did pawn the brooch at Stowley?"
+
+Jessop sat up and wiped his eyes. "Yes, I did. But I pulled my cap down
+over my eyes and buttoned up my pea-jacket. I never thought old Tinker
+would ha' knowed me."
+
+"Wasn't it rather rash of you to pawn the brooch in a place where you
+were well known?"
+
+"I wasn't well known. I only come at times, and then I went away. Old
+Tinker hadn't seen me more nor once or twice, and then I pulled down my
+cap and--" Jessop, badly shaken, was beginning to tell the episode over
+again, when Hurd stopped him.
+
+"See here," said the detective. "You say that you are innocent?"
+
+"I swear that I am," gasped Jessop.
+
+"Well, then, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. My business is not
+to hang innocent people. Take a glass of rum and tell me all you know,
+beginning with your first meeting with Krill and running down through
+the death of Lady Rachel to your last meeting in the Gwynne Street
+cellar."
+
+"And when you know all?"
+
+"Then I'll see what is to be done."
+
+"Will you arrest me?"
+
+"I have arrested you. Don't make conditions with me, man," said Hurd,
+with a stern face. "The night is growing late and I want to get to the
+bottom of this business before we go to bed. Take some rum."
+
+Seeing there was nothing for it but to make a clean breast, Captain
+Jarvey Jessop wasted no further time in useless lamentation. He could
+have smashed Hurd easily enough, even though there was the risk of being
+shot. But the fracas would bring others on the scene, and Jessop knew he
+could not deal with the police. Therefore, he took a stiff peg and
+became quieter. In fact, when once started on his confession, he
+appeared to be rather relieved.
+
+"It's been a nightmare," said he, wiping his forehead. "I'm glad it's
+come to the lawr, that I am. I met Krill, as he wos then, some
+twenty-five year back by chance, as you may say"--he cast a strange look
+at the detective, which the latter noted--"yes, by chance, Mr. Hurd. I
+found he kep' the pub here, and this bein' no distance from Southampton
+I took to runnin' down here when the barkey was at anchor. Me an' Krill
+became great mates, and I'd what you might call free quarters here--yes,
+sir--it's a frozen fact."
+
+"Very generous of Mr. Krill," remarked Hurd, dryly, and wondering what
+the man was keeping back.
+
+"Oh, he was right enough as a mate when not drunk; but the liquor made a
+howling dorg of him. I've seen many drunk in many places," said Jessop,
+"but anyone who held his liquor wuss nor Krill I never did see. He'd
+knife you as soon as look at you when drunk."
+
+"But he evidently preferred strangling."
+
+"Hold on, mate," said Jessop, with another deep pull at the rum. "I'm
+comin' to that night. We wos both on the bust, as y'may say, and Mrs.
+Krill she didn't like it, so got to bed with the child."
+
+"How old was the child?"
+
+"Maud? Oh, you might say she was thirteen or fifteen. I can't be sure of
+her age. What's up?"
+
+For Hurd, seeing in this admission a confirmation that Maud was either
+not Krill's child or was illegitimate, and could not inherit the money,
+had showed his feelings. However, he made some trivial excuse, not
+wishing to be too confidential, and begged Jessop to proceed.
+
+"Well, mate," said the captain, filling another glass of rum, "y'see
+the lady had come earlier and had been put to bed by the missus. I never
+saw her myself, being drinking in this very room along o' Krill. But
+_he_ saw her," added Jessop, emphatically, "and said as she'd a fine
+opal brooch, which he wish he'd had, as he wanted money and the missus
+kept him tight."
+
+"Krill was a judge of jewels?"
+
+"Travelled in jewels once," said the captain. "Bless you, he could size
+up a precious stone in no time. But he sat drinking with me, and every
+now and then got out of the room, when he'd stop away for perhaps a
+quarter of an hour at the time."
+
+"Did he mention the opal brooch again?"
+
+"No," said Jessop, after reflection, "he didn't. But he got so drunk
+that he began to show fight, as he always did when boozy, though a timid
+chap when sober. I concluded, wishing no row, to git to my hammock, and
+cut up stairs. Then I went by mistake into the room of that pore lady,
+carrying a candle, and saw her tied to the bedpost stone dead, with a
+silk handkerchief round her neck. I shouted out blue murder, and Mrs.
+Krill with the kid came tumbling down. I was so feared," added Jessop,
+wiping his forehead at the recollection, "that I ran out of doors."
+
+"What good would that do?"
+
+"Lor', I dunno," confessed the man, shivering, "but I wos skeered out of
+my life. It wos rainin' pitchforks, as y'might say, and I raced on
+through the rain for an hour or so. Then I thought, as I wos innocent,
+I'd make tracks back, and I did. I found Krill had cut."
+
+"Did his wife tell you?"
+
+"Oh, she wos lying on the floor insensible where he'd knocked her down.
+And the kid--lor'," Jessop spat, "she was lying in the corner with her
+lips fastened together with the brooch."
+
+"What?" cried Hurd, starting to his feet. "The same as her--the same as
+Norman's was?"
+
+Jessop nodded and drank some rum. "Made me sick it did. I took th'
+brooch away and slipped it into my pocket. Then the kid said her father
+had fastened her lips together and had knocked her mother flat when she
+interfered. I brought Mrs. Krill round and then left her with the kid,
+and walked off to Southampton. The police found me there, and I told
+them what I tell you."
+
+"Did you tell about the brooch?"
+
+"Well, no, I didn't," confessed Jessop, coolly, "an' as the kid and the
+mother said nothing, I didn't see why I shouldn't keep it, wantin'
+money. So I went to Stowley and pawned it, then took a deep sea voyage
+for a year. When I come back, all was over."
+
+"Do you think Krill murdered the woman?" asked Hurd, passing over for
+the moment the fact that Jessop had stolen the brooch.
+
+"He said he didn't," rejoined the man with emphasis, "but I truly
+believe, mister, as he did, one of them times, when mad with drink and
+out of the room. He wanted the brooch, d'ye see, though why he should
+have lost the loot by sealin' the kid's mouth with it I can't say."
+
+"When did you come across Krill again?"
+
+"Ho," said Jessop, drawing his hand across his mouth, "'twas this way,
+d'ye see. I come round here lots, and a swell come too, a cold--"
+
+"Grexon Hay," said Hurd, pointing to the photograph.
+
+"Yes. That's him," said Jessop, staring, "and I hated him just, with his
+eye-glass and his sneerin' ways. He loved the kid, now a growed, fine
+gal, as you know, and come here often. In June--at the end of it
+anyhow--he comes and I hears him tells Mrs. Krill, who was always
+looking for her husband, that a one-eyed bookseller in Gwynne Street,
+Drury Lane, had fainted when he saw the very identical brooch showed him
+by another cove."
+
+"Beecot. I know. Didn't you wonder how the brooch had left the
+pawnshop?" asked Hurd, very attentive.
+
+"No, I didn't," snarled Jessop, who was growing cross. "I knew old
+Tinker's assistant had sold the brooch and he didn't oughter t' have
+done it, as I wanted it back. Mrs. Krill asked me about the brooch, and
+wanted it, so I said I'd get it back. Tinker said it was gone, but wrote
+to the gent as bought it."
+
+"Mr. Simon Beecot, of Wargrove, in Essex."
+
+"That wos him; but the gent wouldn't give it back, so I 'spose he'd
+given it to his son. Well, then, when Mrs. Krill heard of the one-eyed
+man fainting at sight of the brooch, she knew 'twas her husband, as he'd
+one eye, she having knocked the other out when he was sober."
+
+"Did she go up and see him?"
+
+"Well," said Jessop, slowly, "I don't rightly know what she did do, but
+she went up. I don't think she saw Krill at his shop, but she might have
+seen that Pash, who was Mr. Hay's lawyer, and a dirty little ape o'
+sorts he is."
+
+"Ha," said Hurd, to himself, "I thought Pash knew about the women
+beforehand. No wonder he stuck to them and gave poor Miss Norman the
+go-bye," he rubbed his hands and chuckled. "Well, we'll see what will
+come of the matter. Go on, Jessop."
+
+"There ain't much more to tell," grumbled the captain. "I heard of this,
+and I wasn't meant to hear. But I thought I'd go up and see if I could
+get money out of Krill by saying I'd tell about the murder of Lady
+Rachel."
+
+"You _are_ a scoundrel," said Hurd, coolly.
+
+"I wos 'ard up," apologized the captain, "or I wouldn't, not me. I'm
+straight enough when in cash. So I went up in July."
+
+"On the sixth of July?"
+
+"If that was the day of the murder--yes. I went up and loafed round
+until it wos dark, and then slipped through that side passage at eight
+o'clock to see Krill."
+
+"How did you know where to find him?"
+
+"Why, that Hay knew about the chap, and said as he did business in a
+cellar after eight. So Krill let me in, thinking, I 'spose, I wos a
+customer. He'd been drinking a little and was bold enough. But when I
+said, as I'd say, he'd killed Lady Rachel, he swore he was an innercent
+babe, and cried, the drink dyin' out of him."
+
+"The same as it died out of you lately," said Hurd, smiling.
+
+"Go slow," grunted the captain, in a surly tone. "I ain't afraid now, as
+I ain't done nothing. I said to Krill I'd say nothin' if he'd give me
+money. He wouldn't, but said he'd placed a lot of pawned things with
+Pash, and I could have them. He then gave me a paper saying I was to
+have the things, and I went to Pash the next morning and had trouble.
+But I heard by chance," again Jessop cast a strange look at Hurd, "that
+Krill had been murdered, so I didn't wait for the lawyer to come back,
+but cut down to Southampton and went on a short voyage. Then I come here
+and you nabbed me," and Jessop finished his rum. "That's all I know."
+
+"Do you swear you left Aaron Norman alive?"
+
+"Meaning Krill? I do. He wasn't no use to me dead, and I made him give
+me the jewels Pash had, d'ye see."
+
+"But who warned you of the death when you were waiting?"
+
+Jessop seemed unwilling to speak, but when pressed burst out, "'Twas a
+measily little kid with ragged clothes and a dirty face."
+
+"Tray," said Hurd. "Hum! I wonder how he knew of the murder before it
+got into the papers?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+MISS QIAN'S PARTY
+
+
+Hurd's sister was a clever young woman who in her time had played many
+parts. She began her career along with Hurd as a private detective, but
+when her brother joined the official service, Miss Hurd thought she
+would better her position by appearing on the stage, and, therefore,
+took the rather queer name of Aurora Qian. In her detective capacity she
+had often disguised herself when employed in obtaining evidence, and was
+remarkably talented in changing her face and figure. This art she used
+with great success in her new profession, and speedily made her mark as
+an impersonator of various characters out of novels. As Becky Sharp, as
+Little Dorrit, she was said to be inimitable, and after playing under
+several managements, she started, in the phrase of the profession, "a
+show of her own," and rapidly made money.
+
+But her great faults amongst others were vanity and extravagance, so she
+was always in need of money, and when chance offered, through her
+brother, to make any, she was not averse to returning to the spy
+business. Thus it came about that she watched Mr. Grexon Hay for many a
+long day and night, and he never suspected the pretty, fluffy, kittenish
+Miss Qian was in reality an emissary of the law. Consequently, when
+Aurora asked him to a card-party at her rooms, Hay accepted readily
+enough, although he was not in need of money at the time.
+
+Miss Qian occupied a tiny flat on the top of a huge pile of buildings in
+Kensington, and it was furnished in a gimcrack way, with more show than
+real value, and with more color than taste. Every room was of a
+different hue, with furniture and hangings to match. The drawing-room
+was pink, the dining-room green, her bedroom blue, the entrance hall
+yellow, and the extra sleeping apartment used by her companion, Miss
+Stably, was draped in purple. Some wit called the flat "the paint-box,"
+and indeed so varied were its hues that it was not a bad title to give
+it.
+
+Like the Becky Sharp whom she impersonated with such success, Miss Qian
+possessed a sheep-dog, not because she needed one, being very well able
+to look after herself, but because it sounded and looked respectable.
+Miss Stably, who filled this necessary office, was a dull old lady who
+dressed excessively badly, and devoted her life to knitting shawls. What
+she did with these when completed no one ever knew: but she was always
+to be found with two large wooden pins rapidly weaving the fabric for
+some unknown back. She talked very little, and when she did speak, it
+was to agree with her sharp little mistress. To make up for speaking
+little, she ate a great deal, and after dinner with her eternal knitting
+in her bony hands and a novel on her lap, was entirely happy. She was
+one of those neutral-tinted people, who seem not good enough for heaven
+and not sufficiently bad for the other place. Aurora often wondered what
+would become of Miss Stably when she departed this life, and left her
+knitting behind her. The old lady herself never gave the matter a
+thought, but lived a respectable life of knitting and eating and novel
+reading, with a regular visit to church on Sunday where she worshipped
+without much idea of what the service was about.
+
+This sort of person exactly suited Miss Qian, who wanted a sheep-dog who
+could neither bark nor bite, and who could be silent. These
+qualifications were possessed by the old lady, and for some years she
+had trailed through a rather giddy world at Aurora's heels. In her own
+dull way she was fond of the young woman, but was far from suspecting
+that Aurora was connected in an underhand manner with the law. That
+knowledge would indeed have shaken Miss Stably to the soul, as she had a
+holy dread of the law, and always avoided the police-court column when
+she read the newspapers.
+
+This was the old lady who sat in the pink drawing-room to play propriety
+for Miss Qian. Lord George Sandal was present, looking rather washed
+out, but as gentlemanly as ever. Hay, with his fixed eye-glass and
+eternally cold smile was there, and a third young man, who adored Miss
+Qian, thinking her to be merely an actress, simpered across the
+card-table at his goddess. The four were playing a game which involved
+the gaining and losing of much money, and they had been engaged for
+about an hour. Miss Stably having eaten a good dinner and commenced a
+new shawl was half dosing in the corner, and paying absolutely no
+attention to the players.
+
+"It's a good thing we're hanging on our own hooks in this game," said
+Miss Qian, who smoked a dainty cigarette. "Were I your partner, Sandal,"
+she always addressed her friends in this free-and-easy fashion, "I'd be
+losing money. What luck you have!"
+
+"I never do seem to win," lamented Lord George. "Whenever I think I've
+got a good hand, the thing pans out wrong."
+
+"Hay has got all the money," said the simpering admirer who answered to
+the name of Tempest. "He and you, Miss Qian, are the winners."
+
+"I've made very little," she replied. "Hay's raking in the dollars hand
+over fist."
+
+"Lucky in love, unlucky at cards," said Hay, who did not like his good
+fortune to be commented upon, for reasons which Miss Qian knew. "It's
+the reverse with me--I'm lucky at cards--"
+
+"And lucky in love, too," interrupted Aurora, with a grimace, "seeing
+you're going to marry that Krill heiress--if she is an heiress."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Hay, who was dealing a new round.
+
+"Go on with the game and don't ask questions," said Miss Qian, in a
+saucy manner. "Sandal, don't stare round, but keep your eye on the
+cards," and she winked stealthily at the young lord, while Hay was
+exchanging a word with Tempest. The young man, who had spoken privately
+to her immediately before the dinner, knew well what she meant. Had Hay
+been likewise "in the know," he would scarcely have done what he did do,
+and which Sandal saw him do in a few minutes.
+
+Hay was rapidly dealing, and the cards were flying like leaves. A pile
+of gold stood beside Hay's elbow, and some silver near Tempest. The game
+commenced, and soon the players were engrossed, heedless of the patent
+snoring of Miss Stably, who, poor old thing, had succumbed to the
+lateness of the hour. Suddenly Lord George, who had been very vigilant,
+felt his foot touched under the table by Miss Qian. He rose at once and
+snatched up the gold standing near Hay.
+
+"What's that for?" demanded Hay, angrily.
+
+"You're cheating," said Sandal, "and I don't play with you any more."
+
+"That's a lie. I did not cheat."
+
+"Yes, you did," cried Miss Qian, bending forward and seizing the cards;
+"we've been watching you. Tempest--"
+
+"I saw it all right," said the other. "You took up that king--"
+
+"And it's marked," said Aurora. "I believe Hay's got cards up his
+sleeve. Examine the cards."
+
+Hay, very pale, but still keeping his countenance, tried to object, but
+the two young men seized and held him, while Miss Qian, with a dexterity
+acquired in detective circles, rapidly searched his pockets.
+
+"Here's another pack," she cried, and shook an ace and two kings out of
+the detected swindler's sleeve, "and these cards--"
+
+Sandal took one and went to the lamp. "Marked, by Jove!" he cried, but
+with a stronger oath; "here's a pin-prick."
+
+"You are mistaken," began Hay, quite pale.
+
+"No," said Tempest, coolly, "we're not. Miss Qian told us you cheated,
+and we laid a trap for you. You've been trying this double card and
+marked card dodge several times this very evening."
+
+"And he's tried it lots of times before," said Aurora, quickly. "I have
+been at several places where Hay scooped the pool, and it was all
+cheating."
+
+"If it was," said Hay, with quivering lips, "why didn't you denounce me
+then and there?"
+
+"Because I denounce you now," she said; "you're cooked, my man. These
+boys will see that the matter is made public."
+
+"By Jove, yes!" cried Sandal, with a look of abhorrence at Hay, "and
+I'll prosecute you to get back those thousands you won off me."
+
+"I never did--"
+
+"You've been rooking this boy for months," cried Miss Qian. "Here,
+Tempest, get a constable. We'll give him in charge for swindling."
+
+"No! no!" cried Hay, his nerve giving way under the threatened
+exposure; "you'll have your money back, Sandal, I swear."
+
+"Lord George to you now, you blackguard; and how can you pay me the
+money when I know you haven't got a cent?"
+
+"He intends to get it from the heiress," sniggered Aurora.
+
+"Oh, dear me!" rose the plaintive voice of the sheep-dog, "what is it,
+Aurora? Anything wrong?"
+
+"We've caught Hay cheating, that's all, and the police--"
+
+"Oh, Aurora, don't bring up the police."
+
+"No, don't," said Hay, who was now trembling. "I'll do whatever you
+like. Don't show me up--I'm--I'm going to be married soon."
+
+"No, you sha'n't marry," cried Tempest, sharply; "I'll see this girl
+myself and save her from you."
+
+"You can't prove that I cheated," said Hay, desperately.
+
+"Yes, we can," said George. "I, and Miss Qian, and Tempest all saw you
+cheat, and Miss Qian has the marked cards."
+
+"But don't expose me. I--I--" Hay broke down and turned away with a look
+of despair on his face. He cursed himself inwardly for having ventured
+to cheat when things, by the marriage with Maud Krill, would have soon
+been all right for him. "Miss Qian," he cried in a tone of agony, "give
+me another chance."
+
+Aurora, playing her own game, of which the two young men were ignorant,
+appeared to repent. She beckoned to Miss Stably. "Take Mr. Hay into the
+dining-room," she said, "and I'll see what I can do. But you try and
+bolt, Hay, and the news will be all over the West End to-morrow."
+
+"I'll stop," said Hay, whose face was colorless, and, without another
+word, he followed the sheep-dog into the dining-room in an agony of mind
+better imagined than described. Then Miss Qian turned her attention to
+her guests:
+
+"See here, boys," she said frankly, "this is a dirty business, and I
+don't want to be mixed up with it."
+
+"But Hay should be exposed," insisted Sandal; "he's been rooking me, I
+do believe, for months."
+
+"Serve you jolly well right," said Aurora, heartlessly. "I warned you
+again and again against him. But if there's a row, where do I come in?"
+
+"It won't hurt you," said Tempest, eagerly.
+
+"Oh, won't it? Gambling in my flat, and all the rest of it. You boys may
+think me free and easy but I'm straight. No one can say a word against
+me. I'm not going to be made out an adventuress and a bad woman for the
+sake of that swindler, Hay. So you boys will just hold your tongues."
+
+"No," said Sandal, "my money--"
+
+"Oh, bother your money. One would think you were a Jew. I'll see that
+Hay pays it back. He's going to marry this Krill girl, and she's able to
+supply the cash."
+
+"But the girl shouldn't be allowed to marry Hay," said Tempest.
+
+"Don't you burn your fingers with other people's fire," said Aurora,
+sharply. "This girl's in love with him and will marry him in spite of
+everything. But I don't care a cent for that. It's myself I'm thinking
+of. If I get your money back, Sandal, will you hold your tongue?"
+
+Lord George, thinking of what his noble father would say were he
+involved in a card scandal connected with an actress, thought it just as
+well to agree. "Yes," said he, hesitatingly, "I'll not say a word, if
+you get the money back. But don't you let Hay speak to me again in
+public or I'll kick him."
+
+"That's your affair and his," said Aurora, delighted at having gained
+her point; "but you hold your tongue, and you, Tempest?"
+
+"I'll not say a word either," said the young man, with a shrug, "though
+I don't see why you should save this blackguard's reputation."
+
+"It's my own I'm thinking of, so don't you make any mistake. And now I
+have both your promises?"
+
+"Yes," said Sandal and Tempest, thinking it best to hush the matter up;
+"but Hay--"
+
+"I'll see to him. You two boys clear out and go home to bed."
+
+"But we can't leave you alone with Hay," said Tempest.
+
+"I'll not be alone with him," cried the little woman, imperiously; "my
+companion is with me. What do you mean?"
+
+"He might do you some harm."
+
+"Oh! might he? You take me for a considerable idiot, I suppose. You get
+along, boys, and leave me to fix up things."
+
+Both young men protested again; but Aurora, anxious for her conversation
+with Hay, bundled them out of the flat and banged the door to, when she
+heard them whistling below for a hansom. Then she went to the
+dining-room.
+
+"You come along to the drawing-room," she said to Hay. "Miss Stably,
+stop here."
+
+"I haven't got my shawl," bleated the old lady.
+
+"Oh, bother," Aurora ran to the other room, snatched up the shawl and
+saw Miss Stably sitting down to knit, while she led Hay back into the
+drawing-room. He looked round when he entered.
+
+"Where are they?" he asked, sitting down.
+
+"Gone; but it's all right. I've made them promise not to say--"
+
+Grexon Hay didn't let her finish. He fell on his knees and kissed her
+hand. His face was perfectly white, but his eyes were full of gratitude
+as he babbled his thanks. No one could have accused him of being cold
+then. But Miss Qian did not approve of this emotion, natural though it
+was.
+
+"Here, get up," she said, snatching her hand away. "I've got to speak
+straight to you. I've done a heap for you, now you've got to do a heap
+for me."
+
+"Anything--anything," said Hay, whose face was recovering its normal
+color. "You have saved me--you have."
+
+"And much of a thing you are to save. You'll be cheating again in a week
+or so."
+
+"No," cried Hay, emphatically, "I swear I'll not touch a card again.
+I'll marry Maud and turn respectable. Oh, what a lesson I've had! You
+are sure those fellows won't speak?"
+
+"No. That's all right. You can go on swindling as before, only," Miss
+Qian raised a finger, "you'll have to pay Sandal back some cash."
+
+"I'll do that. Maud will lend me the money. Does he want all?"
+
+"Oh, a couple of thousand will shut his mouth. I'll not see you left.
+It's all right, so sit up and don't shake there like a jelly."
+
+"You're very kind to me," said Hay, faintly.
+
+"Don't you make any mistake. So far as I am concerned you might stick in
+the mud forever. I helped you, because I want you to help me. I'm in
+want of money--"
+
+"I'll give you some."
+
+"Picked from that girl's pockets," said Aurora, dryly, "no, thank you.
+It might dirty my fingers. Listen--there's a reward offered for the
+discovery of the murderer of Aaron Norman. I want to get that thousand
+pounds, and you can help me to."
+
+Hay started to his feet with amazement. Of all the requests she was
+likely to make he never thought it would be such a one. "Aaron Norman's
+murder," he said, "what do you know of that?"
+
+"Very little, but you know a lot."
+
+"I don't, I swear I don't."
+
+"Pish," said Miss Qian, imperiously, "remember I've got the whip-hand,
+my boy. Just you tell me how Mrs. Krill came to strangle the--"
+
+"Mrs. Krill?" Hay turned white again, and his eye-glass fell. "She had
+nothing to do with the matter. I swear--"
+
+"Strikes me you swear too much, Mr. Hay. What about that opal brooch you
+stole from Beecot when he had the smash?"
+
+"I didn't steal it. I never saw it at the time of the accident."
+
+"Then you got that boy Tray to steal it."
+
+"I knew nothing about the boy. Besides, why should I steal that opal
+serpent brooch?"
+
+"You wanted to buy it from Beecot, anyhow?"
+
+Hay looked puzzled. "Yes, for a lady."
+
+"Mrs. Krill?"
+
+"I admit that Mrs. Krill wanted it. She had associations connected with
+that brooch."
+
+"I know," interrupted Aurora, glancing at the clock, "don't waste time
+in talking of Lady Rachel Sandal's death--"
+
+"How do you know about that?" stammered Hay, completely nonplussed.
+
+"I know a mighty lot of things. I may as well tell you," added Miss
+Qian, coolly, "since you daren't split, that I've got a lot to do with
+the secret detective service business. I'm helping another to hunt out
+evidence for this case, and I guess you know a lot."
+
+The man quailed. He knew that he did not stand well with the police and
+dreaded what this little fluffy woman should do. Aurora read his
+thoughts. "Yes," she said, "we know a heap about you at the Scotland
+Yard Office, and if you don't tell me all you know, I'll make things hot
+for you. This cheating to-night is only one thing. I know you are 'a
+man on the market,' Mr. Hay."
+
+"What do you wish to hear?" asked Hay, collapsing.
+
+"All about Mrs. Krill's connection with this murder."
+
+"She has nothing to do with it. Really, she hasn't. Aaron Norman was her
+husband right enough--"
+
+"And he ran away from her over twenty years ago. But who told Mrs. Krill
+about him?"
+
+"I did," confessed Hay, volubly and seeing it was best for him to make a
+clean breast of it. "I met the Krills three years ago when I was at
+Bournemouth. They lived in Christchurch, you know."
+
+"Yes. Hotel-keepers. Well, what then?"
+
+"I fell in love with Maud and went to Christchurch to stop at 'The Red
+Pig.' She loved me, and in a year we became engaged. But I had no money
+to marry her, and she had none either. Then Mrs. Krill told me of her
+husband and of the death of Lady Rachel."
+
+"Murder or suicide?"
+
+"Suicide, Mrs. Krill said," replied Hay, frankly. "She told me also
+about the opal brooch and described it. I met Beecot by chance and
+greeted him as an old school-fellow. He took me to his attic and to my
+surprise showed me the opal brooch. I wanted to buy it for Mrs. Krill,
+but Beecot would not sell it. When next I met him, he told me that Aaron
+Norman had fainted when he saw the brooch. I thought this odd, and
+informed Mrs. Krill. She described the man to me, and especially said
+that he had but one eye. I went with Beecot to the Gwynne Street shop,
+and a single glance told me that Aaron Norman was Lemuel Krill. I told
+his wife, and she wanted to come up at once. But I knew that Aaron was
+reported rich--which I had heard through Pash--and as he was my lawyer,
+I suggested that the Krills should go and see him."
+
+"Which they did, before the murder?"
+
+"Yes. Pash was astonished, and when he heard that Mrs. Krill was the
+real wife, he saw that Aaron Norman, as he called himself, had committed
+bigamy, and that Sylvia--"
+
+"Yes, you needn't say it," said Miss Qian, angrily, "she's worth a dozen
+of that girl you are going to marry. But why did you pretend to meet
+Mrs. Krill and her daughter for the first time at Pash's?"
+
+"To blind Beecot. We were standing at the door when the two came out,
+and I pretended to see them for the first time. Then I told Beecot that
+I had been introduced to Maud at Pash's office. He's a clever chap,
+Beecot, and, being engaged to Sylvia Norman, I thought he might find out
+too much."
+
+"About the murder?"
+
+Hay rose and looked solemn. "I swear I know nothing of that," he said
+decidedly, "and the Krills were as astonished as I, when they heard of
+the death. They were going to see him by Pash's advice, and Mrs. Krill
+was going to prosecute him for bigamy unless he allowed her a good
+income. Death put an end to all that, so she made up the story of seeing
+the hand-bills, and then of course the will gave the money to Maud, who
+was engaged to me."
+
+"The will or what was called a will, gave the money to Sylvia," said
+Aurora, emphatically; "but this brooch--you didn't take it?"
+
+"No, I swear I didn't. Mrs. Krill wanted it, but I never knew it was of
+any particular importance. Certainly, I would never have risked robbing
+Beecot, and I never told that boy Tray to rob either."
+
+"Then who took the brooch."
+
+"I can't say. I have told you all I know."
+
+"Hum," said Aurora, just like her brother, "that will do to-night; but
+if I ask any more questions you'll have to answer, so now you can go. By
+the way, I suppose the brooch made you stick to Beecot?"
+
+"Yes," said Hay, frankly; "he was of no use to me. But while he had the
+brooch I stuck to him to get it for Mrs. Krill."
+
+"Queer," said Aurora. "I wonder why she wanted it so much!" but this
+question Hay was unable to answer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+FURTHER EVIDENCE
+
+
+After all, Hurd did not send Jessop to town as he threatened to do.
+Evidently the captain had told him all he knew, and appeared to be
+innocent of Krill's death. But, in spite of his apparent frankness the
+detective had an idea that something was being kept back, and what that
+something might be, he determined to find out. However, his thoughts
+were turned in another direction by a note from Beecot addressed to him
+at "The Red Pig," asking him to come at once to the Jubileetown Laundry.
+"I believe we have discovered the person who stole the opal brooch from
+me," wrote Paul, "and Deborah has made a discovery connected with Norman
+which may prove to be of service."
+
+Wondering what the discovery might be, and wondering also who had taken
+the brooch, Hurd arranged that Jessop and Hokar should remain at
+Christchurch under the eyes of two plain-clothes officials. These
+managed their duties so dexterously that Matilda Junk was far from
+guessing what was going on. Moreover, she informed the detective, who
+she thought was a commercial gent, that she intended to pay a visit to
+her sister, Mrs. Tawsey, and demanded the address, which Hurd gave
+readily enough. He thought that if Matilda knew anything--such as the
+absence of Mrs. Krill from the hotel during the early part of
+July--Deborah might induce her to talk freely.
+
+Hokar had proved a difficult subject. Whether he was too grateful to
+Mrs. Krill to speak out, or whether he really did not understand what
+was asked of him, he certainly showed a talent for holding his tongue.
+However, Hurd saw well enough that the man was afraid of the Sahib's
+law, and when matters came to a crisis would try and prove his innocence
+even at the cost of implicating others. Therefore, with an easy mind the
+detective left these two witnesses being watched at Christchurch and
+repaired to town, where Aurora informed him of the interview with Hay.
+Billy approved of the way in which his sister had managed matters.
+
+"I guessed that Hay was the man who put Mrs. Krill on the track of her
+husband," he said, with satisfaction; "but I wasn't quite sure how he
+spotted the man."
+
+"Oh, the one eye identified him," said Aurora, who was eating chocolate
+as usual, "and Norman's fainting at the sight of the brooch confirmed
+Hay's belief as to who he was. I wonder he didn't make a bargain with
+Norman on his own."
+
+Hurd shook his head. "It wouldn't have paid so well," said he, wisely.
+"Norman would have parted only with a small sum, whereas this murder
+will bring in Hay a clear five thousand a year when he marries the girl.
+Hay acted cleverly enough."
+
+"But I tell you Hay has nothing to do with the murder."
+
+"That may be so, though I don't trust him. But Mrs. Krill might have
+strangled her husband so as to get the money."
+
+"What makes you think she did?" asked Aurora, doubtfully.
+
+"Well, you see, from what Jessop says, Mrs. Krill is devotedly attached
+to Maud, and she may have been anxious to revenge her daughter on Krill.
+He acted like a brute and fastened the child's lips together, so Mrs.
+Krill treated him in the same way."
+
+"Hum," said Miss Qian, reflectively, "but can you prove that Mrs. Krill
+was in town on the night of the murder?"
+
+"That's what I'm going to find out," said Hurd. "All you have to do is
+to keep your eyes on Hay--"
+
+"Oh, he won't cut, if that's what you mean. He thinks everything is
+square, now that I've got those boys to stop chattering. He'll marry
+Maud and annex the money."
+
+"He may marry Maud," said Hurd, emphatically, "but he certainly won't
+get the five thousand a year. Miss Norman will."
+
+"Hold on," cried Aurora, shrewdly. "Maud may not be Lemuel Krill's
+child, or she may have been born before Krill married the mother, but in
+any case, Sylvia Norman isn't the child of a legal marriage. Krill
+certainly committed bigamy, so his daughter Sylvia can't inherit."
+
+"Well," said Hurd, "I can't say. I'll see Pash about the matter. After
+all, the will left the money to 'my daughter,' and that Sylvia is beyond
+doubt, whatever Maud may be. And I say, Aurora, just you go down to
+Stowley in Buckinghamshire. I haven't time to look into matters there
+myself."
+
+"What do you want me to do there?"
+
+"Find out all about the life of Mrs. Krill before she married Krill and
+came to Christchurch. She's the daughter of a farmer. You'll find the
+name in this." Hurd passed along a copy of the marriage certificate
+which Mrs. Krill had given to Pash. "Anne Tyler is her maiden name. Find
+out what you can. She was married to Krill at Beechill, Bucks."
+
+Miss Qian took the copy of the certificate and departed, grumbling at
+the amount of work she had to do to earn her share of the reward. Hurd,
+on his part, took the underground train to Liverpool Street Station, and
+then travelled to Jubileetown. He arrived there at twelve o'clock and
+was greeted by Paul.
+
+"I've been watching for you all the morning," said Beecot, who looked
+flushed and eager. "Sylvia and I have made such a discovery."
+
+Hurd nodded good-humoredly as he entered the house and shook hands with
+the girl.
+
+"Miss Norman has been doing some detective business on her own account,"
+he said, smiling. "Hullo, who is this?"
+
+He made this remark, because Mrs. Purr, sitting in a corner of the room
+with red eyes, rose and dropped a curtsey.
+
+"I'm called to tell you what I do tell on my Bible oath," said Mrs.
+Purr, with fervor.
+
+"Mrs. Purr can give some valuable evidence," said Paul, quickly.
+
+"Oh, can she? Then I'll hear what she has to say later. First, I must
+clear the ground by telling you and Miss Norman what I have discovered
+at Christchurch."
+
+So Mrs. Purr, rather unwillingly, for she felt the importance of her
+position, was bundled out of the room, and Hurd sat down to relate his
+late adventures. This he did clearly and slowly, and was interrupted
+frequently by exclamations of astonishment from his two hearers. "So
+there," said the detective, when finishing, "you have the beginning of
+the end."
+
+"Then you think that Mrs. Krill killed her husband?" asked Paul,
+dubiously.
+
+"I can't say for certain," was the cautious reply; "but I think so, on
+the face of the evidence which you have heard. What do you say?"
+
+"Don't say anything," said Sylvia, before Paul could reply. "Mr. Hurd
+had better read this paper. It was found by Deborah in an old box
+belonging to my father, which was brought from Gwynne Street."
+
+She gave the detective several sheets of blue foolscap pinned together
+and closely written in the shaky handwriting of Aaron Norman. Hurd
+looked at it rather dubiously. "What is it?" he asked.
+
+"The paper referred to in that unfinished scrap of writing which was
+discovered behind the safe," explained Paul. "Norman evidently wrote it
+out, and placed it in his pocket, where he forgot it. Deborah found it
+in an old coat, she discovered in a box of clothes brought from Gwynne
+Street. They were Norman's clothes and his box, and should have been
+left behind."
+
+"Debby won't hear of that," said Sylvia, laughing. "She says Mrs. Krill
+has got quite enough, and she took all she could."
+
+"What's all this writing about?" asked Hurd, turning over the
+closely-written sheets. "To save time you had better give me a precis of
+the matter. Is it important?"
+
+"Very I should say," responded Paul, emphatically. "It contains an
+account of Norman's life from the time he left Christchurch."
+
+"Hum." Hurd's eyes brightened. "I'll read it at my leisure, but at the
+present moment you might say what you can."
+
+"Well, you know a good deal of it," said Paul, who did the talking at a
+sign from Sylvia. "It seems that Norman--we'd better stick to the old
+name--left Christchurch because he was afraid of being accused of
+murdering Lady Rachel."
+
+"Was she really murdered?"
+
+"Norman doesn't say. He swears he knows nothing about the matter. The
+first intimation he had was when Jessop came down with the news after
+blundering into the wrong bedroom. But he hints that Mrs. Krill killed
+her."
+
+"Can he prove that?"
+
+"No. He can't give any proof, or, at all events, he doesn't. He declares
+that when his wife and daughter--"
+
+"Oh! does he call Maud his daughter?"
+
+"Yes! We can talk of that later," said Paul, impatiently. "Well, then,
+Norman says he went fairly mad. Jessop had bolted, but Norman knew he
+would not give the alarm, since he might be accused himself of killing
+Lady Rachel. Maud, who had seen the body, wanted to run out and call the
+neighbors."
+
+"How old does Norman say she was?"
+
+"About fifteen; quite old enough to make things unpleasant."
+
+"Then she can't inherit the money," said Hurd, decisively.
+
+"No," cried Beecot, quickly, "both Sylvia and I think so. But to go on
+with Norman's confession. He would not let Maud go. She began to scream,
+and he feared lest she should alarm the neighbors. He tied a
+handkerchief across her lips, but she got free, and again began to
+scream. Then he cruelly fastened her lips together with the opal
+brooch."
+
+"Where did he get that, if innocent?"
+
+"He declared that he spied it on the floor of the sitting-room, near his
+wife's feet, and then hints that she strangled Lady Rachel to get it and
+turn it into money as she was desperately in need of cash for Maud. Mrs.
+Krill idolized the child."
+
+"I know that," snapped Hurd. "Go on."
+
+"When Norman fastened the child's lips together, Mrs. Krill threw
+herself on him in a rage. He knocked her insensible, and then ran away.
+He walked through the night, until, at dawn, he came to a distant
+railway station. There he took a ticket and went to London. He
+concealed himself until there was no chance of his being discovered, and
+besides, saw the verdict of the jury in the newspapers. But he was
+determined he would not go back to his wife, because she threatened
+him."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Ah," said Paul, while Sylvia shuddered, "in a strange way. When he
+fastened the child's lips together, Mrs. Krill said that she would do
+the same to him one day and with the same brooch."
+
+Hurd uttered an exclamation. "So that was why she wanted the brooch so
+much?" he exclaimed eagerly.
+
+"Yes. And she told Hay she wanted it though she did not reveal her
+reason. She said if she got the brooch he would be allowed to marry
+Maud, with whom Hay was deeply in love. Hay stumbled across me by
+accident, and I happened to have the brooch. The rest you know."
+
+"No," said Hurd, "I don't know how the brooch came into the possession
+of Mrs. Krill again, to use in the cruel way she threatened."
+
+"Well," said Sylvia, quickly, "we aren't sure if Mrs. Krill _did_ get
+the brooch."
+
+"The evidence is against her," said Hurd; "remember the threat--"
+
+"Yes, but wait till you hear Mrs. Purr," said Paul, "but just a moment,
+Hurd. You must learn how Norman laid the foundations of his fortune."
+
+"Ah, I forget! Well?" and the detective settled himself to listen
+further.
+
+"He was hard up and almost starving for a long time after he came to
+London," explained Paul, "then he got a post in a second-hand bookshop
+kept by a man called Garner in the Minories. He had a daughter,
+Lillian--"
+
+"My mother," put in Sylvia, softly.
+
+"Yes," went on Beecot, quickly, "and this girl being lonely fell in
+love with Norman, as he now called himself. He wasn't an attractive man
+with his one eye, so it is hard to say how Miss Garner came to love him.
+But she married him in the end. You'll find everything explained at
+length in the paper we gave you. Then old Garner died, and Lillian
+inherited a considerable sum of money, together with the stock. Her
+husband removed the books to Gwynne Street and started business. But
+with the money he began to trade in jewels, and you know how he got on."
+
+"That's all plain enough," said Hurd, putting the confession of Norman
+into his pocket. "I suppose the man dreaded lest his first wife should
+turn up."
+
+"Yes! And that's why he fainted when he saw the brooch. Not knowing that
+Jessop had removed it from Maud's mouth and pawned it--"
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," said Hurd, quickly. "Bart overheard him
+talking of Stowley and the pawnbroker there."
+
+"Well," said Paul, with a shrug, "he says nothing about it in the
+confession. Perhaps he did trace the brooch to the Stowley shop, but if
+so, I wonder he did not get it, seeing he wanted it. But when he saw it
+in my possession, he thought I might know of Mrs. Krill and might put
+her on the track. Hence his fainting. Later, he learned how I became
+possessed of it, and tried to buy it. Then came the accident, and I
+really believed for a time that Hay had stolen it."
+
+"Aurora says he swore he did not."
+
+"And he didn't," said Paul, going to the door. "Mrs. Purr!"
+
+"You don't mean to say that old woman prigged it?" asked Hurd.
+
+"No. But she warned me against that boy Tray on the day Deborah was
+married. Later, I asked her what she meant, and she then told me that
+she had learned from Tray's grandmother, a drunken old thief, how the
+boy brought home the opal brooch, and--"
+
+Here Mrs. Purr, who had entered and was dropping curtseys to the majesty
+of the law, as represented by Hurd, thought an undue advantage was being
+taken of her position. She wished to talk herself, and interrupted Paul,
+in a shrill voice.
+
+"Granny Clump, she is," said Mrs. Purr, folding her hands under her
+apron. "Tray's gran'mother, as 'is name is Tray Clump, I swear on my
+Bible oath. A wicked old woman as is famous for drink--"
+
+"I've heard of her," said the detective, remembering; "she's been up
+heaps of times."
+
+"And grows no better," wailed Mrs. Purr, bibulously, for she had been
+strengthening herself for the interview with frequent libations of gin.
+"Oh, what a thing strong drink is, sir! But Granny Clump, bein' ill with
+the lungses, and me bein' 'elpful in sich cases, 'aving bin a nuss, when
+young, as I won't deceive you by denying, called on me to be a good
+Smart 'un. And I wos, though she swore awful, saying she wanted gin an'
+jellies, an' could 'ave 'ad them, if that limb--so did she name Tray,
+gentlemen both--'ad only 'anded to 'er the rich brooch he brought 'ome,
+just afore he went to earn a decent livin' at the lawr orfice, which 'is
+name is Pash--"
+
+"Ha," said Hurd, thoughtfully, "I'll see the boy."
+
+"You can see him now," said Beecot, unexpectedly. "When I learned this
+from Mrs. Purr and knew you were coming, I sent a message to Pash's
+office for the boy. He came up quite unsuspectingly, but he refused to
+speak. I shut him up in a back room, and Deborah has been watching
+him--"
+
+"An' the languige of that blessed limb!" exclaimed Mrs. Purr, raising
+her hands.
+
+"Bring him in," said Hurd. "Miss Norman, if the boy uses bad language,
+you needn't stay."
+
+Sylvia, having heard what Tray could do in this way, needed no further
+hint. She left the room gladly, and told Deborah to bring along her
+prisoner. Shortly, the noise of kicking and strong language was heard
+coming nearer, and Deborah, with a red face and a firm mouth, appeared
+at the door, holding aloft a small boy who was black in the face with
+rage. "There," said Deborah, flinging Tray in a heap at the detective's
+feet, "if me an' Bart 'ave sich a brat, I 'ope he dies in his cradle,
+instead of growing to a galler's thief in th' use of words which make me
+shudder, let alone my pretty. Ugh!" she shook her fist at Tray. "You Old
+Bailey viper, though young at that."
+
+"Here," said Tray, rising, much dishevelled, but with a white face, "let
+me go. I'll 'ave the lawr of you."
+
+"I'll attend to that, my lad," said Hurd, dryly. "Now, then, where did
+you get that brooch?"
+
+"Sha'n't tell," snapped the boy, and put his tongue out.
+
+Hurd gave him a smack with an open hand on the side of his face, and
+Master Clump began to blubber.
+
+"Assalting me--oh, won't you ketch it," he raged in his puny wrath. "My
+master's a law-cove, and he'll 'ave y' up before the beak."
+
+"You answer my questions," said Hurd, sternly, "or you'll get another
+clout. You know who I am well enough. Make a clean breast of it, you
+imp, or I'll lock you up."
+
+"If I make a clean breast will you let me cut?" asked Tray, beginning to
+whimper, but with a cunning gleam in his eyes.
+
+"I'll see, when I know what you have to say."
+
+Tray looked round the room to see if there was any way of escape. But
+Paul guarded the closed window and Deborah, itching to box his ears,
+stood before the door. Before him was the stern-faced detective with
+whom Tray knew well enough he dare not trifle. Under these circumstances
+he made the best of a bad job, and told what he knew although he
+interpolated threats all the time. "Wot d'y want with me?" he demanded
+sulkily.
+
+"Where did you find that brooch?"
+
+"I prigged it from Mr. Beecot's pocket when he wos smashed."
+
+"Did Mr. Hay tell you to steal it?"
+
+"No, he didn't."
+
+"Then how did you know the brooch was in my pocket?" asked Paul.
+
+"I was a-dodgin' round the shorp," snapped Tray, "and I 'eard Mr. Norman
+an' Mr. Beecot a-talkin' of the brooch; Mr. Beecot said as he 'ad the
+brooch in 'is pocket--"
+
+"Yes, I certainly did," said Paul, remembering the conversation.
+
+"Well, when the smash come, I dodged in and prigged it. T'wos easy
+'nough," grinned Tray, "for I felt it in 'is bres' poket and collared
+it. I wanted to guv it t' th' ole man, thinkin' he'd pay fur it, as he
+said he would. But arter the smash I went 'ome t' m' grann' and hid the
+brooch. W'en I wos a-lookin' at it at night, I sawr 'er a-lookin' at it,
+and she grabbed it. I cut away with m'own property, not wishin' to be
+robbed by the ole gal."
+
+"What did you do then?"
+
+Tray wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "I 'eard that Mr.
+Norman wos dead--"
+
+"Yes, and you told Jessop so in the office. How did you know?"
+
+"'Cause I went to the shorp in th' mornin' to sell the brooch to th' ole
+man. He was a goner, so I cut to Mr. Pash, as wos his lawyer, and said
+I'd sell 'im the brooch."
+
+"What?" cried Hurd, rising. "You gave the brooch to Mr. Pash?"
+
+"Yuss. He said he'd 'ave me up for stealin', and wouldn't guv me even a
+bob fur it. But he said I'd be his noo orfice boy. I thought I'd be
+respectable, so I went. And now," ended Master Clump in a sullen manner,
+"you knows all, and I ain't done nothin', so I'm orf."
+
+Deborah caught him by the tail of his jacket as he made a dart at the
+door and swung him into the middle of the room. Hurd laid hands on him.
+"You come along with me," he said. "I'll confront you with Pash."
+
+Tray gave a howl of terror. "He'll kill me," he shouted, "as he killed
+the old cove. Yuss. _He_ did it. Pash did it," and he howled again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+WHAT PASH SAID
+
+
+In a smoking compartment, which the three had to themselves, Hurd
+resumed his examination of Tray. They were now on their way to Liverpool
+Street and thence the detective intended to convey the boy to Pash's
+office in Chancery Lane. Paul sat in one corner much excited over the
+turn events had taken. He began to think that the assassin of Aaron
+Norman would be found after all. More, he believed that Sylvia would yet
+inherit the five thousand a year she was entitled to, morally, if not
+legally. Hurd, in another corner, pulled Tray roughly towards him, and
+shook his finger in the lad's face. The boy was sulky and defiant, yet
+there was a trace of fear in his eyes, and the reason of this Hurd
+wished to learn.
+
+"You're a young liar," said Hurd, emphatically, "and not a clever one
+either. Do you think to play the fool with me?"
+
+"I've tole you all straight," grumbled Tray.
+
+"No, you haven't. Anyone can see that you've made a mistake. I leave it
+to Mr. Beecot yonder."
+
+"I was about to draw your attention to the mistake," said Paul; "you
+mean the discrepancy in time."
+
+Master Clump started and became more sulky than ever. He cast down his
+cunning eyes and shuffled with his feet while Hurd lectured him. "You
+know well enough," said the detective, sharply, "that the brooch was
+boned by you on the very evening when the murder took place. It was
+then that Mr. Beecot met with his accident. Therefore, you could not
+have given the brooch to Mr. Pash the _next_ morning, as it had been
+used on the previous night."
+
+"Sha'n't say anythin' more," retorted Tray, defiantly.
+
+"Oh, won't you?" cried Hurd, ironically, "we'll see about that. You told
+that lie about the time to account for your knowing of the murder before
+anyone else did."
+
+"No," said Tray, decidedly, "I did go to the shorp in th' mornin'."
+
+"That you may have done, but not to sell the brooch. Mr. Pash had taken
+it from you on the previous night."
+
+"He didn't," denied the boy.
+
+"Then in that case you've told a lie. Pash never had the brooch, and has
+nothing to do with the murder."
+
+"He _did_ prig the brooch from me, and he _did_ kill the ole cove."
+
+"Well, we'll see what Mr. Pash will say when you accuse him," said Hurd;
+"but I don't believe one word of it. It's my opinion that you gave that
+brooch to a third party on the same evening as you stole it. Now, then,
+who did you give it to?"
+
+"Mr. Pash," persisted Tray.
+
+"On the same evening?"
+
+There was no reply to this. Tray set his lips firmly and refused to
+speak. Hurd shook an admonitory finger again. "You can't play fast and
+loose with me, my lad," he said grimly; "if you didn't part with that
+brooch, you must be mixed up in the crime yourself. Perhaps you pinned
+the poor wretch's mouth together. It's just the sort of cruel thing a
+young Cain like you would do."
+
+"I didn't," said Master Clump, doggedly; "you take me to master, and
+I'll tell him what I tells you. He's the one."
+
+Hurd shook the boy to make him talk more, but Tray simply threw himself
+on the floor of the carriage and howled. The detective therefore picked
+him up and flung him into a corner. "You stop there, you little
+ruffian," he said, seriously annoyed at the boy's recalcitrants; "we'll
+speak again when we are in Mr. Pash's office." So Tray curled up on the
+cushion, looked savagely at the detective and held his tongue.
+
+"What do you think will be the end of all this?" asked Paul, when Master
+Clump was thus disposed of.
+
+"Lord knows," replied Hurd, wiping his face. "I never had a harder case
+to deal with. I thought Hay had a hand in it, but it seems he hadn't,
+bad lot as he is, asking your pardon, Mr. Beecot, since you're his
+friend."
+
+"That I am not," disclaimed Beecot, emphatically; "there's a young
+lawyer I know, Ford is his name. I went to see him as to what chances
+Sylvia had of getting the money. He was at school with me, and
+remembered Hay. He said that Hay was dismissed from Torrington School
+for stealing."
+
+"Didn't you know that yourself."
+
+"No, I had left the school--I was ill at home with scarlet fever. But
+Hay apparently always has been a bad lot. He and that Krill pair are
+well matched, for I believe the mother is bad, even if the daughter Maud
+isn't. By the way her age--?"
+
+Hurd nodded. "I believe she was fifteen at the time of the death of Lady
+Rachel. If so, she can't be legitimate or may not be the daughter of
+Aaron Norman. However, I've asked my sister to look up Mrs. Krill's past
+life in Stowley, where she comes from."
+
+"But she wasn't married to Krill at Stowley?"
+
+"No. But she lived there as Anne Tyler. From the certificate she was
+married to Krill at a small parish church twenty miles from Stowley, so
+Aurora will go there. But I want her to stop at Stowley first and learn
+all she can about Anne Tyler."
+
+"Beechill's the name of the parish in which she was married to Krill
+before she came to Christchurch," said Paul, musingly, "so I expect they
+lived there. Miss Qian might search also for the certificate of Maud
+Krill's birth."
+
+"I told her to, and, failing that, she's to search in Christchurch. We
+must get the certificate of birth somehow."
+
+"Hurd," said Paul, rather diffidently, "I hope you won't be annoyed, but
+I have already asked my friend Ford to give notice to Pash to produce
+the certificate."
+
+"Well," replied the detective, "you might have told me; but no great
+harm is done. What does Pash say?"
+
+"I don't know. Ford has not let me know yet. Here we are."
+
+This remark was caused by the stopping of the train at Liverpool Street
+Station. A number of people were returning from their employment in the
+city to the country, and the platforms were crowded. Hurd grasped Master
+Clump by the arm and marched him along. But in the confusion of finding
+his ticket at the barrier, he happened to let go, almost without
+thinking. In a moment Tray had darted through the barrier and was lost
+in the crowd. Hurd sprang after him, and left Paul to explain. He
+hurriedly did so, and then went out to see if the detective had caught
+the boy.
+
+Hurd was nowhere to be seen, neither was Tray. The crowd was increasing
+thick, and Beecot was at a loss what to do. After waiting for an hour
+without finding the pair, he thought he would go to Pash's office. It
+might be that Hurd, having caught Tray, would take him there at once,
+leaving Beecot to follow. So Paul got on to the metropolitan railway and
+alighted at the Temple Station. Thence he walked up to the office in
+Chancery Lane.
+
+"Where's Tray?" asked Paul, of the one clerk in the outer room, who was
+writing for dear life.
+
+"I don't know, sir," said the clerk; "he went out this morning and
+hasn't been back all day. Mr. Pash is very angry with him."
+
+Apparently Hurd had not caught the boy yet, or if he had, did not intend
+to bring him to the office. "Can I see Mr. Pash?" asked Paul, thinking
+he might as well make some use of his time.
+
+The clerk inquired if the solicitor would see Beecot, and presently
+ushered him into the inner room, where Pash sat looking more like a
+monkey than ever. He did not appear at all pleased to see the young man,
+and sucked in his cheek with a crabbed air.
+
+"Well, Mr. Beecot, what can I do for you?" he snarled.
+
+"You might be civil in the first place," said Paul quietly, taking a
+chair. "You haven't behaved over well to Miss Norman and me."
+
+"Oh," said Pash, coolly, "have you come to reproach me with that?"
+
+"I never waste time," rejoined Paul, equally coolly. "I'll leave you to
+your conscience."
+
+Pash shrugged his shoulders and put his feet on the rungs of his chair.
+"I think my conscience can stand that," he said; "it's business, Mr.
+Beecot, business. By the way, I have received a request from Mr. Ford of
+Cheapside to produce the certificate of birth of Miss Krill. What is the
+meaning of that?"
+
+"I think you know very well, Mr. Pash."
+
+"I profess my ignorance," said Pash, ironically, although he looked
+uneasy, and was apparently lying.
+
+"In that case you had better wait till you hear from Mr. Ford."
+
+"Are you employing Mr. Ford, may I ask?"
+
+Paul nodded. "On behalf of Miss Norman," said he, coldly.
+
+"Ah," sneered the monkey, "you think you'll get the money."
+
+"Wait till you hear from Mr. Ford," retorted Paul again, and enjoyed the
+baffled expression on Mr. Pash's wrinkled face. "By the way, sir, why
+did you not tell Hurd that Tray gave you the opal brooch?"
+
+Pash turned all the colors of the rainbow. "Does that brat I took into
+my office out of charity dare to say that he did."
+
+"He does, and what is more, Mr. Hurd is bringing him here to make the
+statement, face to face with you. I am determined to get to the bottom
+of this case, sir, for Miss Norman's sake. And the possession of the
+brooch forms an important link."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"The person who had that brooch on the evening of the sixth of July
+murdered Norman," said Paul, calmly.
+
+Pash jumped up and chattered like a baboon in a rage. "Do you mean to
+accuse me?" he demanded. "Take care--take care."
+
+"I don't accuse you. Tray does."
+
+"It's a lie--a lie--"
+
+"Don't excite yourself, Mr. Pash. You'll need all your wits to convince
+Hurd. Tray accuses you, and Hurd suspects you. I have nothing to do with
+the matter."
+
+"You put Hurd up to this," foamed Pash, hardly able to speak.
+
+"Pardon me. Hurd is working for the reward offered by your client. Don't
+you think it was rather foolish of her to offer such a large reward,
+Mr. Pash, even though she did so to avert suspicion?"
+
+The solicitor changed color again. "I don't understand you."
+
+Paul shrugged his shoulders and rose to go. "Perhaps Mr. Hurd will
+explain," he said, and made for the door.
+
+Pash, with his monkey face much perplexed, sat hunched in his chair,
+biting his fingers. As Paul laid his hand on the knob, he called him
+back. "I can explain," he said nervously.
+
+"Not to me," said Paul, coldly.
+
+"I prefer to do so to you," said the lawyer, hurriedly.
+
+"Why to me particularly."
+
+"Because I don't think I have acted very well towards Miss Norman, and,
+as you are to marry her, you may be able to arrange--"
+
+"To make peace I suppose you mean," burst out Beecot; "no, Mr. Pash, you
+have acted like a scoundrel. You left that poor girl in the lurch as
+soon as you found that Miss Krill was--as you thought--legally entitled
+to the money."
+
+"What do you mean by hinting she isn't?"
+
+"Because you know very well what her age is," retorted Paul. "This
+matter will be shifted to the bottom, Mr. Pash, by my friend Ford, and
+if things are as I think they are, Miss Krill won't keep that money. You
+know very well--"
+
+"Miss Norman won't get the money either," snarled Pash, "I know that
+very well. Leastways," he added, "without my assistance."
+
+"More of your crooked ways," said Paul, indignantly. "Tell what you like
+to Hurd. I refuse to listen."
+
+As he spoke he opened the door and found himself facing Hurd who was red
+and hot. The detective stepped into the office, and as he passed Paul,
+whispered, "Hold your tongue about the boy," then he turned to Mr. Pash.
+"Well, sir," he puffed, "I have had a job catching up Mr. Beecot. No
+doubt you know why I have come?"
+
+"No," said Pash, dryly; "I don't see Tray."
+
+"Tray will keep. I've got him safe under lock and key. Before bringing
+you face to face with him I thought it best to give you an opportunity
+of clearing yourself."
+
+"Of what?" asked Pash, in a brazen manner.
+
+Hurd looked at Beecot who spoke. "Mr. Pash knows very well that Tray
+accuses him of the crime," he said. "I told him so, and he professed his
+readiness to explain to you."
+
+"Ah," said Hurd, "shut the door, Mr. Beecot. No need to let all London
+know the truth."
+
+"_I_ don't know it," said Pash, as Paul closed the door and returned to
+his seat.
+
+"Very good," rejoined the detective, calmly, "we'll assume for the sake
+of argument that you did not strangle Norman."
+
+"That I certainly did not."
+
+"Then you know who did. Come, sir," Hurd became stern; "this boy Tray
+says he gave the opal brooch to you. And I believe he did. You would not
+have taken him into your office--a boy off the streets, and with a bad
+character at that--unless you wanted to bribe him to hold his tongue."
+
+"I had no need to bribe," said Pash, gnawing his finger nails and rather
+cowed by this direct attack. "The boy _did_ show me the opal brooch, and
+I took it from him to return to Norman."
+
+"When did you receive it?" asked Hurd, pulling out his book. "Be
+careful, Mr. Pash, I'll take down what you say."
+
+"I have nothing to conceal," said Pash, in quite an unnecessarily
+injured manner. "I had employed the boy on several errands, and he knew
+I was Norman's lawyer. On the evening of the sixth of July--"
+
+"And the evening of the murder," said Hurd; "are you sure?"
+
+"I'll take my oath on it. The boy told me that Mr. Beecot had met with
+an accident and that a blue velvet case containing a brooch had fallen
+out of his pocket."
+
+"It was stolen," said Beecot, hastily.
+
+"Tray was not such a fool as to tell me that," replied the lawyer,
+dryly; "he said that he picked the case up out of the mud, and took it
+home to his garret. His grandmother, who is a notorious thief, wanted to
+get it, and pawn it for drink, but Tray ran away with it and came to me
+about five o'clock. He gave me the brooch and asked me to take charge of
+it, as he expected to get money for it from Aaron Norman who wanted it."
+
+"Tray overheard my conversation with Norman," said Paul, angrily, "and
+knew the brooch was mine--so did you, Mr. Pash."
+
+"Well," said the solicitor, coolly, "what of that? Norman was my client
+and wanted the brooch. I intended to keep it and then see you, so that a
+sale might be arranged. Norman spoke to me about the brooch several
+times and wanted it for reasons you may not know."
+
+"Oh, yes, we know," said Hurd, sardonically; "we know much more than you
+give us credit for, Mr. Pash. Well, you saw Norman about the jewel later
+that evening. I suppose you intend to tell us you gave him the brooch
+then."
+
+"I intend to tell nothing of the sort," retorted Pash, after a few
+moments' thought. "I see that things are coming to a crisis, and I would
+like to see Miss Norman reinstated in her rights."
+
+"Oh," said Paul, indignantly, "and you did your best to give the money
+to Maud Krill!"
+
+"Because I believed she was legally entitled to it," explained Pash,
+lamely; "but since--no," he broke off, "I'll say nothing just now. I
+alone can put the matter right, and I refuse to do so unless I have Miss
+Norman's promise that I shall keep the business."
+
+Paul would have refused then and there, but Hurd, more astute,
+interrupted his angry speech. "We'll see about that later, Mr. Pash," he
+said, soothingly; "meanwhile, what did you do with the brooch?"
+
+"I laid it on the table there. The case was open, as I had been looking
+at it. I sent Tray out of the room and attended to my usual business.
+Several clients came and went, and I forgot about the opal serpent. Then
+I went to see my clerk outside about a deed. I was with him for some
+minutes. When I recollected the brooch before I went home--for I
+intended to take it with me--"
+
+"Stop," interrupted Hurd, "you were here till Aaron Norman came along
+with the jewels, so you must have missed the brooch before he came or he
+would have taken it, seeing it was exposed on the table."
+
+"My esteemed client did not come till seven," said Pash, annoyed at
+being detected in trickery. "He walked about with the bags of jewels for
+some time, not being able to make up his mind to give them to me, which
+he did for safe keeping."
+
+"Then he expected a visit from his wife?"
+
+"I can't say," said the solicitor, with an air of fatigue. "He certainly
+hinted that he wanted the jewels placed away safely in case someone
+connected with the opal brooch should come."
+
+"Perhaps Captain Jessop, who did come," said Paul, suddenly.
+
+"He didn't mention the name of Jessop," snapped Pash. "Had he hinted at
+a sailor I would have known who my nautical visitor was."
+
+"We know all about that," said Hurd, waving his hand; "But if Norman
+came to you at seven, how did you manage to prevent him meeting his wife
+in this office?"
+
+"Oh, she was--What do you mean?" asked Pash, breaking off, and conscious
+that he was letting slip something he had rather had not been known.
+
+Hurd saw the slip and Pash's confusion and at once made every use of the
+opportunity. In fact, he played a game of bluff. Shaking his finger he
+approached the little lawyer. "Do you think I come here unprepared?" he
+asked, solemnly; "do you think I have not been to 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch and learned that Mrs. Krill knew of her husband's
+whereabouts, through Hay, long before the day she came to you with the
+lying story about the hand-bills? Hay has confessed his share in the
+business of a false introduction to throw Mr. Beecot off the scent,
+seeing that he was defending Miss Norman's interests. Do you think I
+don't know that this woman Krill came to see you, through Hay, whose
+lawyer you are? She was here on that fatal evening," said Hurd, making a
+bold shot, "how did you prevent her seeing Norman?"
+
+Pash was completely thrown off his balance by this volley of language
+and presumption of knowledge. "Mrs. Krill left at six," he gasped,
+backing to the wall.
+
+"And carried off the brooch?"
+
+"I'm not sure--I can't say--I _did_ miss the brooch--"
+
+"After Mrs. Krill left?"
+
+"No, when Norman came. I intended to show him the brooch and found it
+gone."
+
+"Mrs. Krill left at six. Between six and seven did any other client come
+into the office?"
+
+"Yes--no--I can't say. Well," Pash broke down in despair seeing that his
+lies were not believed, "I think Mrs. Krill did steal the brooch."
+
+"Quite so, and murdered her husband!" Hurd went to the door and took
+Beecot's arm. "I only hope you won't be brought up as an accessory
+before the fact, Mr. Pash," and disregarding the lawyer's exclamations
+he dragged Paul outside. In Chancery Lane he spoke. "I've bluffed him
+fine," he said, "that boy is lost. Can't see him anywhere. But we're
+getting at the truth at last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+MRS. KRILL AT BAY
+
+
+Next day Hurd did not go to see Mrs. Krill as he had intended, but spent
+his time in hunting for the missing boy. Tray, however, was not to be
+found. Being a guttersnipe and accustomed to dealing with the police he
+was thoroughly well able to look after himself, and doubtless had
+concealed himself in some low den where the officers of the law would
+not think of searching for him. However, the fact remained that, in
+spite of the detective's search, he could not be caught, and the
+authorities were much vexed. To unravel the case completely Tray was a
+necessary witness, especially as, even when examined at Jubileetown,
+Hurd shrewdly suspected he had not confessed all the truth. However,
+what could be done was done, and several plain-clothes detectives were
+set to search for the missing boy.
+
+Pash remained quiet for, at all events, the next four-and-twenty hours.
+Whether he saw Mrs. Krill or not during that time Hurd did not know and,
+truth to say, he cared very little. The lawyer had undoubtedly acted
+dishonestly, and if the matter were made public, there would be every
+chance that he would be struck off the rolls. To prevent this Pash was
+quite ready to sell Mrs. Krill and anyone else connected with the
+mystery. Also, he wished to keep the business of Miss Norman, supposing
+the money--as he hinted might be the case through his assistance--came
+back to her; and this might be used as a means to make him speak out.
+Hurd was now pretty sure that Mrs. Krill was the guilty person.
+
+"She knew Pash through Hay," argued the detective, while thinking over
+the case, "and undoubtedly came to see him before Norman's death, so
+that Pash might suggest ways and means of getting the better of the old
+man by means of the bigamy business. Mrs. Krill was in the Chancery Lane
+office when the brooch left by Tray was on the table, and Mrs. Krill,
+anxious to get it, no doubt slipped it into her pocket when Pash was
+talking to his clerk in the outer room. Then I expect she decided to
+punish her husband by fastening his lips together as he had done those
+of her daughter twenty and more years ago. I can't exactly see why she
+strangled him," mused Hurd, "as she could have got the money without
+proceeding to such an extreme measure. But the man's dead, and she
+killed him sure enough. Now, I'll get a warrant out and arrest her
+straight away. There's quite enough evidence to justify her being taken
+in charge. Hum! I wonder if she made use of that young devil of a Tray
+in any way? Well," he rose and stretched himself, "I may force her to
+speak now that she is in a corner."
+
+Having made up his mind Hurd went to work at once, and the next day,
+late in the afternoon, he was driving in a cab to No. 32A Hunter Street,
+Kensington, with the warrant in his pocket. He also had with him a
+letter which he had received from Miss Qian, and written from Beechill
+in Buckinghamshire. Aurora had made good use of her time and had learned
+a number of facts connected with Mrs. Krill's early life which Hurd
+thought would prove of interest to the woman. In one way and another the
+case was becoming plain and clear, and the detective made sure that he
+would gain the reward. The irony of the thing was, that Mrs. Krill,
+with a view to throwing dust in the eyes of the law, had offered a bribe
+of one thousand pounds for the discovery of the assassin. She little
+thought when doing so that she was weaving a rope for her own neck.
+
+Hurd had brought a plain-clothes policeman with him, and this man
+remained outside in a hansom while Hurd rang the bell. In a few minutes
+the door was opened and the detective sent up his card. Mrs. Krill
+proved to be at home and consented to receive him, so, shortly, the man
+found himself in an elegantly-furnished drawing-room bowing before the
+silent and sedate daughter.
+
+"You wish to see my mother," said Maud, with her eternal smile. "She
+will be down in a few minutes."
+
+"I await her convenience," said Hurd, admiring the handsome looks of the
+young woman, although he plainly saw that she was--as he phrased it--"no
+chicken."
+
+After a few words Miss Krill rang the bell. "I want these things taken
+away," she said, pointing to a workbasket and some millinery with which
+she had been engaged when Hurd was announced, "then I shall leave you to
+speak to my mother."
+
+The detective wondered if she was too fine a lady to remove these things
+herself, but his surprise ceased when the door opened and no less a
+person than Matilda Junk appeared. He guessed at once that the landlady
+of "The Red Pig" had come up to see her sister and had related details
+about her visitor. Probably Mrs. Krill guessed that Hurd had been asking
+questions, and Matilda had been introduced to see if he was the man. He
+became certain of this when Miss Junk threw up her hands. "The
+commercial gent," she exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, no," said Maud, smiling smoothly. "This is Mr. Hurd, the detective,
+who is searching for the assassin of my dear father."
+
+"Lor,'" said Matilda, growing red. "And he's the man as came to ask
+questions at the 'otel. I do call it bold of you, Mister Policeman."
+
+"Well," said Hurd, swinging his hat lazily, and looking from one to the
+other, quite taking in the situation, "you answered very few of my
+questions, so that is all right."
+
+"Why did you go down to Christchurch?" asked Miss Krill.
+
+"If I have to find out who killed your father," said Hurd, with an
+accent on the word "father," "it was necessary that I should learn about
+his past life as Lemuel Krill."
+
+"My mother could have informed you, sir."
+
+"I guessed as much, and, as Miss Junk would not speak, I have come to
+question Mrs. Krill. Ah, here she is." Hurd rose and bowed. "I am glad
+to see you, madam."
+
+Mrs. Krill, who was as plump and smiling and smooth-faced and severe as
+ever, bowed and rubbed her white hands together. At a sign from Maud,
+Matilda gathered up the fancy work and went out of the room with many
+backward glances. These were mostly indignant, for she was angry at
+Hurd's deception. "Do you wish my daughter to stay?" asked Mrs. Krill,
+smoothly.
+
+"That is as she pleases," said the detective.
+
+"No, thank you, mother," said Maud, shuddering, "I have heard quite
+enough of my poor father's terrible death," and she swept out of the
+drawing-room with a gracious smile.
+
+"The poor child is so sensitive," sighed Mrs. Krill, taking a seat with
+her back to the window. Whether this was done to conceal her age, or the
+expression of her face during a conversation which could not fail to
+prove trying, Hurd was unable to determine. "I trust, Mr. Hurd, you have
+come with good news," said the widow.
+
+"What would you call good news?" asked the detective, dryly.
+
+"That you had traced the assassin," she replied coolly.
+
+Hurd was amazed at this brazen assurance, and thought that Mrs. Krill
+must be quite convinced that she had covered up every trail likely to
+lead to the discovery of her connection with the murder.
+
+"I'll leave you to judge whether I have been successful," he said
+calmly.
+
+"I shall be pleased to hear," was the equally calm reply. But as Mrs.
+Krill spoke she glanced towards a gorgeous tapestry curtain at the end
+of the room, and Hurd fancied he saw it shake. It suddenly occurred to
+him that Maud was behind. Why she should choose this secret way of
+listening when she could have remained it was difficult to say, and he
+half thought he was mistaken. However, listening openly or secretly, did
+not matter so far as the daughter was concerned, so Hurd addressed
+himself to Mrs. Krill in a loud and cheerful voice. She composed herself
+to listen with a bland smile, and apparently was quite ignorant that
+there was anything wrong.
+
+"I was lately down at Christchurch, madam--"
+
+"So my servant, Matilda Junk, said."
+
+"It was necessary that I should go there to search out your husband's
+past life. In that past I fancied, might be found the motive for the
+commission of the crime."
+
+"I could have saved you the journey," said Mrs. Krill, shrugging her
+plump shoulders. "I can tell you what you wish to know."
+
+"In that case I will relate all that I have learned, and perhaps you
+will correct me if I am wrong."
+
+Mrs. Krill bowed but did not commit herself to speech. For the sake of
+effect the detective took out a sheaf of notes, but in reality he had
+the various points of the case at his finger tips. "You will excuse me
+if I talk on very private matters," he said, apologetically, "but as we
+are alone," again Mrs. Krill glanced at the curtain and thereby
+confirmed Hurd's suspicions of an unseen listener, "you will not mind my
+being, perhaps, personal."
+
+"Personal," echoed Mrs. Krill, a keen look coming into her hard eyes,
+and she stopped rubbing her hands together.
+
+"Well, yes," admitted Hurd, with affected reluctance. "I had to look
+into your past as well as into that of your husband's."
+
+Mrs. Krill's eyes grew harder than ever. She scented danger. "My past is
+a most uninteresting one," she said, coldly. "I was born at Stowley, in
+Buckinghamshire, and married Mr. Krill at Beechill, which is a few miles
+from that town. He was a traveller in jewellery, but as I did not like
+his being away from me, I induced him to rent 'The Red Pig' at
+Christchurch, to which we removed. Then he left me--"
+
+"On account of Lady Rachel Sandal's murder?"
+
+Mrs. Krill controlled herself excellently, although she was startled by
+this speech, as was evident from the expression of her eyes. "That poor
+lady committed suicide," she said deliberately. "The jury at the inquest
+brought in a verdict of suicide--"
+
+"By a majority of one," added Hurd, quickly. "There seemed to be a
+considerable amount of doubt as to the cause of the death."
+
+"The death was caused by strangulation," said Mrs. Krill, in hard tones.
+"Since you know all about the matter, you must be aware that I and my
+daughter had retired after seeing Lady Rachel safe and sound for the
+night. The death was discovered by a boon companion of my husband's,
+with whom he was drinking at the time."
+
+"I know that. Also that you came down with your daughter when the alarm
+was given. I also know that Krill fastened your daughter's lips together
+with the opal brooch which was found in the parlor."
+
+"Who told you that?" asked Mrs. Krill, agitated.
+
+"Jessop--the boon companion you speak of."
+
+"Yes," she said, suppressing her agitation with a powerful effort.
+"Matilda said you had him to dine with you. What else did he say?" she
+asked with some hesitation.
+
+"Much less than I should have liked to know," retorted Hurd, prepared to
+throw off the mask; "but he told me a great deal which interested me
+very much. Amongst other things that Grexon Hay had been engaged to your
+daughter for two years."
+
+"Well?" asked Mrs. Krill, coolly, "what of that?"
+
+"Nothing particular," rejoined Hurd, just as coolly, "only I wonder you
+took the trouble to pretend that you met Hay at Pash's office for the
+first time."
+
+"That was some romantic rubbish of my daughter's. There was no reason
+why we should not have acknowledged Mr. Hay as an old acquaintance."
+
+"None in the world that I can see," said Hurd, smoothly. "He told you
+that Aaron Norman was your husband."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Krill, decidedly, "I first heard of my husband by seeing
+a chance hand-bill--"
+
+"Not at all," answered Hurd, just as decidedly, "Hay has confessed."
+
+"There was nothing to confess," cried Mrs. Krill, loudly and with
+emphasis.
+
+"Oh, I think so," said the detective, noting that she was losing her
+temper. "You didn't want it known that you were aware of Norman's
+identity before his death. Do you deny that?"
+
+"I deny everything," gasped Mrs. Krill, her hands trembling.
+
+"That's a pity, as I want you to corroborate certain facts connected
+with Anne Tyler. Do you know the name?"
+
+"My maiden name," said the widow, and a look of fear crept into her
+hard, staring eyes. "How did you come to know of it?"
+
+"From the marriage certificate supplied by Pash."
+
+"He had no right to give it to you."
+
+"He didn't. I possess only a copy. But that copy I sent down in charge
+of a certain person to Beechill. This person found that you were married
+as Anne Tyler to Lemuel Krill in the parish church, twenty miles from
+your birthplace."
+
+Mrs. Krill drew a long breath of relief. "Well?" she demanded defiantly,
+"is there anything wrong about that?"
+
+"No. But this person also made inquiries at Stowley about you. You are
+the daughter of a farmer."
+
+"I mentioned that fact myself."
+
+"Yes. But you didn't mention that your mother had been hanged for
+poisoning your father."
+
+Mrs. Krill turned ghastly pale. "No," she said in a suffocating voice,
+"such is the case; but can you wonder that I forebore to mention that
+fact? My daughter knows nothing of that--nor did my husband--"
+
+"Which husband do you mean, Krill or Jessop?" asked Hurd.
+
+Mrs. Krill gasped and rose, swaying. "What do you mean, man?"
+
+"This," said the detective, on his feet at once; "this person hunted out
+the early life of Anne Tyler at Stowley. It was discovered that Anne was
+the daughter of a woman who had been hanged, and of a man who had been
+murdered. Also this person found that Anne Tyler married a sailor called
+Jarvey Jessop some years before she committed bigamy with Lemuel Krill
+in Beechill Church--"
+
+"It's a lie!" screamed Mrs. Krill, losing her self-control. "How dare
+you come here with these falsehoods?"
+
+"They are not falsehoods, Anne Tyler, _alias_ Anne Jessop, _alias_ Anne
+Krill, etc.," retorted Hurd, speaking rapidly and emphasizing his
+remarks with his finger in his usual fashion when in deadly earnest.
+"You were married to Jessop in Stowley Church; you bore him a daughter
+who was christened Maud Jessop in Stowley Church. The person I mentioned
+sent me copies of the marriage and birth certificates. So your marriage
+with Lemuel Krill was false, and his second marriage with Lillian Garner
+is a good one in law. Which means, Mrs. Jessop," Hurd hurled the word at
+her and she shrank, "that Sylvia Norman or Sylvia Krill, as she
+rightfully is, owns that money which you wrongfully withhold from her.
+The will gave the five thousand a year to 'my daughter,' and Sylvia is
+the only daughter and only child--the legitimate child, mark you--of
+Lemuel Krill."
+
+"Lies--lies--lies!" raged Mrs. Krill, as she may still be called, though
+rightfully Jessop, "I'll defend the case on my daughter's behalf."
+
+"_Your_ daughter, certainly," said Hurd, "but not Krill's."
+
+"I say yes."
+
+"And I say no. She was fifteen when Lady Rachel was murdered, as Jessop,
+her father, admitted. I knew the man was keeping something back, but I
+was far from suspecting that it was this early marriage. No wonder the
+man came to you and had free quarters at 'The Red Pig.' He could have
+prosecuted you for bigamy, just as you would have prosecuted Krill, had
+you not murdered him."
+
+Mrs. Krill gave a yell and her eyes blazed. "You hound!" she shouted,
+"do you accuse me of that?"
+
+"I do more than accuse you, I arrest you." Hurd produced the warrant. "A
+man is waiting in the cab. We'll get a four-wheeler, and you'll come
+along with me to gaol, Mrs. Jessop."
+
+"You can't prove it--you can't prove it," she panted, "and I sha'n't
+go--I sha'n't--I sha'n't!" and her eyes sought the tapestry.
+
+"Miss Jessop can come out," said Hurd, coolly, "and, as to your not
+coming, a few policemen will soon put that right."
+
+"How dare you insult me and my daughter?"
+
+"Come, come," said the detective, sternly, "I've had quite enough of
+this. You offered me one thousand pounds to learn who killed your
+so-called husband, Krill. I have earned the reward--"
+
+"Not one shilling shall you have."
+
+"Oh, I think so. Miss Sylvia will pay it to me, and you--"
+
+"I am innocent. I never touched the man."
+
+"A jury will decide that, Mrs. Jessop."
+
+"Krill--my name is Krill."
+
+Hurd laughed and turned towards the tapestry.
+
+"What do you say, Miss Jessop?" he asked.
+
+Seeing that further concealment was at an end, Maud lifted the tapestry,
+which concealed a small door, through which she had silently stolen to
+listen. She advanced calmly. "I have heard all your conversation with my
+mother," she declared with flashing eyes, "and not one word of it is
+true. I am the daughter of Lemuel Krill."
+
+"You'll find that hard to prove in the face of your birth certificate
+and your mother's marriage to Captain Jessop, your father."
+
+"It will all be put right."
+
+"Quite so, and Miss Norman will get the money."
+
+"That girl--never!" cried Maud, fiercely. She looked very like her
+mother at the moment, but the more angry she grew the calmer became Mrs.
+Krill, who kept darting anxious glances at her daughter. "And you
+sha'n't take my mother away," she cried threateningly.
+
+"I don't want to make a scandal in the neighborhood," said Hurd, taking
+a small whistle from his pocket, "but if I blow this my man out there
+will call the nearest policeman, and then--"
+
+"There is no need," interrupted Mrs. Krill, who had recovered her
+self-control. "Maud, come over beside me. On what grounds, Mr. Hurd, do
+you accuse me of the crime? I was not in town on--"
+
+"Oh, yes, you were, Mrs. Jessop. Pash can prove that you were in his
+office and took the brooch left by Tray from the table. I don't know
+where you stopped on that night--"
+
+"At Judson's Hotel, Strand," cried Maud, placing herself beside her
+mother, "and anyone there can prove that my mother and myself were
+within doors after we came from Terry's Theatre, where we spent the
+evening. As my father--for Krill _was_ my father--was killed after
+twelve, and we were both in bed in one room before then, your accusation
+falls to the ground. My mother was with me, and she did not leave the
+whole evening. Next day we went to Christchurch."
+
+Hurd was rather staggered by the positive way in which the young woman
+spoke. But the facts were too plain for him to hesitate. "I must trouble
+you to come along with me," he said. "No, don't go!"
+
+"To put on my cloak and hat?" urged Mrs. Krill. "I'll come quietly
+enough. I don't want a scandal. I am sure when the magistrate hears what
+I have to say he will let me go free."
+
+"I trust so. But you must not leave the room. Matilda will, no doubt,
+bring your things."
+
+Mrs. Krill touched the electric button of the bell, while Maud walked up
+and down, deathly white and fuming. "Mr. Hay shall see to this," she
+said in a cold rage.
+
+"Mr. Hay will have quite enough to do to look after himself," said the
+detective, coolly; "you had better let your mother go quietly, and I
+won't say anything to Matilda Junk."
+
+"Yes, do, Maud," urged the mother, placing an imploring hand on her tall
+daughter's shoulder; "it's better so. Everything will be put right when
+the magistrate hears my story."
+
+"What will you tell him, mother?" asked Maud.
+
+"That I am innocent, and that I am, as you are, ignorant of who killed
+your unfortunate father."
+
+Matilda entered the room and heard that Mrs. Krill had to go out on
+business with Mr. Hurd. On receiving her orders she departed, and
+presently returned with the cloak and hat. Mrs. Krill, who was now quite
+cool, put these on. Hurd could not but admire the brave way in which she
+faced the terrible situation. Maud seemed to be far more upset, and Hurd
+wondered if the young woman knew the truth. Mrs. Krill kept soothing
+her. "It will be all right, my love. Don't excite yourself. It will be
+all right," she said several times.
+
+Miss Junk departed, and Mrs. Krill said that she was ready to depart.
+Hurd offered her his arm, which she rejected, and walked to the door
+with a firm step, although her face was rather white. At the door she
+caught her daughter round the neck and kissed her several times, after
+which she whispered earnestly in her ear, and then went down the stairs
+with the detective in attendance. Maud, with white lips and cheeks, but
+with dry eyes, followed. When her mother was safely in the cab, the
+plain-clothes policeman alighted, so that Hurd might take his place.
+Maud came quietly down the steps and seized the detective by the arm.
+
+"You have ruined my mother," she said in a cold, hard tone; "you have
+robbed me of my money and of the chance of marrying the man I love. I
+can't hurt you; but that girl, Sylvia--she shall never get one
+penny--so, remember!"
+
+Hurd shook her off, and, stepping into the cab, drove away. Mrs. Krill
+looked apprehensively at him. "What did Maud say?" she asked. Hurd told
+her, and Mrs. Krill closed her lips firmly. "Maud is quite right," she
+said with a strange smile. "Sylvia will never get the money."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+A CRUEL WOMAN
+
+
+"Jus' say your meanin', my pretty queen," said Mrs. Tawsey, as she stood
+at the sitting-room door, and watched Sylvia reading an ill-written
+letter. "It's twelve now, and I kin be back by five, arter a long, and
+enjiable tork with Matilder."
+
+"You certainly must go," replied Sylvia, handing back the letter. "I am
+sure your sister will be glad to see you, Debby."
+
+Deborah sniffed and scratched her elbow. "Relatives ain't friends in our
+family," she said, shaking her head, "whatever you may say, my
+deary-sweet. Father knocked mother int' lunatics arter she'd nagged 'im
+to drunk an' police-cells. Three brothers I 'ad, and all of 'em that
+'andy with their fistises as they couldn't a-bear to live in 'armony
+without black eyes and swolled bumps all over them. As to Matilder, she
+an' me never did, what you might call, hit it orf, by reason of 'er not
+givin' way to me, as she should ha' done, me bein' the youngest and what
+you might call the baby of the lot. We ain't seen each other fur years,
+and the meetin' will be cold. She'll not have much forgiveness fur me
+bein' a bride, when she's but a lone cross-patch, drat her."
+
+"Don't quarrel with her, Debby. She has written you a very nice letter,
+asking you to go down to Mrs. Krill's house in Kensington, and she
+really wants to see you before she goes back to Christchurch to-night."
+
+"Well, I'll go," said Deborah, suddenly; "but I don't like leavin' you
+all by your own very self, my sunflower."
+
+"I'll be all right, Debby. Paul comes at four o'clock, and you'll be
+back at five."
+
+"Sooner, if me an' Matilder don't hit if orf, or if we hit each other,
+which, knowin' 'er 'abits, I do expects. But Bart's out till six, and
+there won't be anyone to look arter them as washes--four of 'em," added
+Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose, "and as idle as porkpines."
+
+"Mrs. Purr can look after them."
+
+"Look arter gin more like," said Deborah, contemptuously. "She's allays
+suckin', sly-like, tryin' to purtend as it's water, as if the smell
+didn't give it away, whatever the color may be. An' here she is, idling
+as usual. An' may I arsk, Mrs. Purr ma'am," demanded Deborah with great
+politeness, "wot I pays you fur in the way of ironin'?"
+
+But Mrs. Purr was too excited to reply. She brushed past her indignant
+mistress and faced Sylvia, waving a dirty piece of paper. "Lor', miss,"
+she almost screamed, "you do say as you want t'know where that limb Tray
+'ave got to--"
+
+"Yes--yes," said Sylvia, rising, "he escaped from Mr. Hurd, and we want
+to find him very much."
+
+"It's a letter from 'im," said Mrs. Purr, thrusting the paper into
+Sylvia's hand; "tho' 'ow he writes, not 'avin' bin to a board school, I
+dunno. He's in a ken at Lambith, and ill at that. Want's me t'go an' see
+'im. But I can't leave the ironin'."
+
+"Yuss y' can," said Deborah, suddenly; "this erringd is ness'ary, Mrs.
+Purr ma'am, so jes' put on your bunnet, an' go to Mr. Hurd as 'as 'is
+orfice at Scotlan' Yard, and take 'im with you."
+
+"Oh! but I couldn't--"
+
+"You go," advised Mrs. Tawsey. "There's five pounds offered for the
+brat's bein' found."
+
+"Five pun!" gasped Mrs. Purr, trembling. "Lor', and me 'avin' a chanct
+of gittin' it. I'll go--I'll go. I knows the Yard, 'avin' 'ad summat to
+do with them dirty perlice in my time. Miss Sylvia--"
+
+"Yes, go, Mrs. Purr, and see Mr. Hurd. He'll give you the five pounds if
+you take him to Tray." Sylvia handed back the paper. "Tray seems to be
+ill."
+
+"Ill or well, he sha'n't lose me five pun, if I 'ave to drag 'im to the
+lock-up m'self," said Mrs. Purr, resolutely. "Where's my bunnet--my
+shawl--oh lor'--five pun! Them is as good allays gits rewards," and she
+hurried out, hardly able to walk for excitement.
+
+"There's a nice ole party fur you, Miss Sylvia?"
+
+"Debby," said the girl, thoughtfully. "You take her to the Yard to see
+Mr. Hurd, and then go to Kensington to speak with your sister."
+
+"Well, I'll go, as importance it is," said Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose
+harder than ever. "But I 'opes you won't be lone, my poppet-dovey."
+
+"Oh, no," said Sylvia, kissing her, and pushing her towards the door.
+"I'll look after those four women in the wash-house, and read this new
+book I have. Then I must get tea ready for Paul, who comes at four. The
+afternoon will pass quite quickly."
+
+"I'll be back at five if I can, and earlier if Matilder ain't what she
+oughter be," said Mrs. Tawsey, yielding. "So make yourself 'appy, honey,
+till you sees me smilin' again."
+
+In another quarter of an hour Mrs. Tawsey, dressed in her bridal gown
+and bonnet so as to crush Matilda with the sight of her splendor, walked
+down the garden path attended by Mrs. Purr in a snuffy black shawl, and
+a kind of cobweb on her head which she called a "bunnet." As Deborah was
+tall and in white and Mrs. Purr small and in black, they looked a
+strange pair. Sylvia waved her hand out of the window to Debby, as that
+faithful creature turned her head for a final look at the young mistress
+she idolized. The large, rough woman was dog-like in her fidelity.
+
+Sylvia, left alone, proceeded to arrange matters. She went to the
+wash-house, which was detached from the cottage, and saw that the four
+women, who worked under Deborah, were busy. She found them all
+chattering and washing in a cheerful way, so, after a word or two of
+commendation, she returned to the sitting-room. Here she played a game
+of patience, arranged the tea-things although it was yet early, and
+finally settled down to one of Mrs. Henry Wood's interesting novels. She
+was quite alone and enjoyed the solitude. The wash-house was so far
+away, at the end of the yard, that the loud voices of the workers could
+not be heard. The road before Rose Cottage was not a popular
+thoroughfare, and it was rarely that anyone passed. Out of the window
+Sylvia could see a line of raw, red-brick villas, and sometimes a spurt
+of steam, denoting the presence of the railway station. Also, she saw
+the green fields and the sere hedges with the red berries, giving
+promise of a hard winter. The day was sunny but cold, and there was a
+feeling of autumnal dampness in the air. Deborah had lighted a fire
+before she went, that her mistress might be comfortable, so Sylvia sat
+down before this and read for an hour, frequently stopping to think of
+Paul, and wonder if he would come at the appointed hour of four or
+earlier. What with the warmth, and the reading, and the dreaming, she
+fell into a kind of doze, from which she was awakened by a sharp and
+peremptory knock. Wondering if her lover had unexpectedly arrived,
+though she did not think he would rap in so decided a manner, Sylvia
+rubbed the sleep out of her pretty eyes and hurried to the door. On the
+step she came face to face with Miss Maud Krill.
+
+"Do you know me, Miss Norman?" asked Maud, who was smiling and suave,
+though rather white in the face.
+
+"Yes. You came with your mother to Gwynne Street," replied Sylvia,
+wondering why she had been honored with a visit.
+
+"Quite so. May I have a few minutes' conversation with you?"
+
+"Certainly." Sylvia saw no reason to deny this request, although she did
+not like Miss Krill. But it struck her that something might be learned
+from that young woman relative to the murder, and thought she would have
+something to tell Paul about when he arrived. "Will you walk in,
+please," and she threw open the sitting-room door.
+
+"Are you quite alone?" asked Maud, entering, and seating herself in the
+chair near the fire.
+
+"Quite," answered Sylvia, stiffly, and wondering why the question was
+asked; "that is, the four washerwomen are in the place at the back. But
+Mrs. Tawsey went to your house to see her sister."
+
+"She arrived before I left," said Maud, coolly. "I saw them quarrelling
+in a most friendly way. Where is Mr. Beecot?"
+
+"I expect him later."
+
+"And Bart Tawsey who married your nurse?"
+
+"He is absent on his rounds. May I ask why you question me in this way,
+Miss Krill?" asked Sylvia, coldly.
+
+"Because I have much to say to you which no one else must hear," was the
+calm reply. "Dear me, how hot this fire is!" and she moved her chair so
+that it blocked Sylvia's way to the door. Also, Miss Krill cast a glance
+at the window. It was not snibbed, and she made a movement as if to go
+to it; but, restraining herself, she turned her calm, cold face to the
+girl. "I have much to say to you," she repeated.
+
+"Indeed," replied Sylvia, politely, "I don't think you have treated me
+so well that you should trouble to converse with me. Will you please to
+be brief. Mr. Beecot is coming at four, and he will not be at all
+pleased to see you."
+
+Maud glanced at the clock. "We have an hour," she said coldly; "it is
+just a few minutes after three. My business will not take long," she
+added, with an unpleasant smile.
+
+"What is your business?" asked Sylvia, uneasily, for she did not like
+the smile.
+
+"If you will sit down, I'll tell you."
+
+Miss Norman took a chair near the wall, and as far from her visitor as
+was possible in so small a room. Maud took from her neck a black silk
+handkerchief which she wore, evidently as a protection against the cold,
+and folding it lengthways, laid it across her lap. Then she looked at
+Sylvia, in a cold, critical way. "You are very pretty, my dear," she
+said insolently.
+
+"Did you come to tell me that?" asked the girl, firing up at the tone.
+
+"No. I came to tell you that my mother was arrested last night for the
+murder of _our_ father."
+
+"Oh," Sylvia gasped and lay back on her chair, "she killed him, that
+cruel woman."
+
+"She did not," cried Maud, passionately, "my mother is perfectly
+innocent. That blackguard Hurd arrested her wrongfully. I overheard all
+the conversation he had with her, and know that he told a pack of lies.
+My mother did _not_ kill our father."
+
+"My father, not yours," said Sylvia, firmly.
+
+"How dare you. Lemuel Krill was my father."
+
+"No," insisted Sylvia. "I don't know who your father was. But from your
+age, I know that you are not--"
+
+"Leave my age alone," cried the other sharply, and with an uneasy
+movement of her hands; "we won't discuss that, or the question of my
+father. We have more interesting things to talk about."
+
+"I won't talk to you at all," said Sylvia, rising.
+
+"Sit down and listen. You _shall_ hear me. I am not going to let my
+mother suffer for a deed she never committed, nor am I going to let you
+have the money."
+
+"It is mine."
+
+"It is not, and you shall not get it."
+
+"Paul--Mr. Beecot will assert my rights."
+
+"Will he indeed," said the other, with a glance at the clock; "we'll see
+about that. There's no time to be lost. I have much to say--"
+
+"Nothing that can interest me."
+
+"Oh, yes. I think you will find our conversation very interesting. I am
+going to be open with you, for what I tell you will never be told by you
+to any living soul."
+
+"If I see fit it shall," cried Sylvia in a rage; "how dare you dictate
+to me."
+
+"Because I am driven into a corner. I wish to save my mother--how it is
+to be done I don't know. And I wish to stop you getting the five
+thousand a year. I know how _that_ is to be done," ended Miss Krill,
+with a cruel smile and a flash of her white, hungry-looking teeth; "you
+rat of a girl--"
+
+"Leave the room."
+
+"When I please, not before. You listen to me. I'm going to tell you
+about the murder--"
+
+"Oh," said Sylvia, turning pale, "what do you mean?"
+
+"Listen," said the other, with a taunting laugh, "you'll be white enough
+before I've done with you. Do you see this," and she laid her finger on
+her lips; "do you see this scar? Krill did that." Sylvia noticed that
+she did not speak of Krill as her father this time; "he pinned my lips
+together when I was a child with that opal serpent."
+
+"I know," replied Sylvia, shuddering, "it was cruel. I heard about it
+from the detective and--"
+
+"I don't wish for your sympathy. I was a girl of fifteen when that was
+done, and I will carry the scar to my grave. Child as I was then, I
+vowed revenge--"
+
+"On your father," said Sylvia, contemptuously.
+
+"Krill is not my father," said Maud, changing front all at once; "he is
+yours, but not mine. My father is Captain Jessop. I have known this for
+years. Captain Jessop told me I was his daughter. My mother thought that
+my father was drowned at sea, and so married Krill, who was a traveller
+in jewellery. He and my mother rented 'The Red Pig' at Christchurch, and
+for years they led an unhappy life."
+
+"Oh," gasped Sylvia, "you confess. I'll tell Paul."
+
+"You'll tell no one," retorted the other woman sharply. "Do you think I
+would speak so openly in order that you might tell all the world with
+your gabbling tongue? Yes, and I'll speak more openly still before I
+leave. Lady Rachel Sandal did not commit suicide as my mother said. She
+was strangled, and by me."
+
+Sylvia clapped her hands to her face with a scream. "By you?"
+
+"Yes. She had a beautiful brooch. I wanted it. I was put to bed by my
+mother, and kept thinking of the brooch. My mother was down the stairs
+attending to your drunken father. I stole to Lady Rachel's room and
+found her asleep. I tried to take the brooch from her breast. She woke
+and caught at my hand. But I tore away the brooch and before Lady Rachel
+could scream, I twisted the silk handkerchief she wore, which was
+already round her throat, tighter. I am strong--I was always strong,
+even as a girl of fifteen. She was weak from exhaustion, so she soon
+died. My mother came into the room and saw what I had done. She was
+terrified, and made me go back to bed. Then she tied Lady Rachel by the
+silk handkerchief to the bedpost, so that it might be thought she had
+committed suicide. My mother then came back to me and took the brooch,
+telling me I might be hanged, if it was found on me. I was afraid, being
+only a girl, and gave up the brooch. Then Captain Jessop raised the
+alarm. I and my mother went downstairs, and my mother dropped the brooch
+on the floor, so that it might be supposed Lady Rachel had lost it
+there. Captain Jessop ran out. I wanted to give the alarm, and tell the
+neighbors that Krill had done it--for I knew then he was not my father,
+and I saw, moreover, how unhappy he made my mother. He caught me," said
+Maud, with a fierce look, "and bound a handkerchief across my mouth. I
+got free and screamed. Then he bound me hand and foot, and pinned my
+lips together with the brooch which he picked off the floor. My mother
+fought for me, but he knocked her down. Then he fled, and after a long
+time Jessop came in. He removed the brooch from my mouth and unbound me.
+I was put to bed, and Jessop revived my mother. Then came the inquest,
+and it was thought that Lady Rachel had committed suicide. But she did
+not," cried Maud, exultingly, and with a cruel light in her eyes, "I
+killed her--I--"
+
+"Oh," moaned Sylvia, backing against the wall with widely open eyes;
+"don't tell me more--what horrors!"
+
+"Bah, you kitten," sneered Maud, contemptuously, "I have not half done
+yet. You have yet to hear how I killed Krill."
+
+Sylvia shrieked, and sank back in her chair, staring with horrified eyes
+at the cruel face before her.
+
+"Yes," cried Maud, exultingly, "I killed him. My mother suspected me,
+but she never knew for certain. Listen. When Hay told me that Krill was
+hiding as Norman in Gwynne Street I determined to punish him for his
+cruelty to me. I did not say this, but I made Hay promise to get me the
+brooch from Beecot--on no other condition would I marry him. I wanted
+the brooch to pin Krill's lips together as he had pinned mine, when I
+was a helpless child. But your fool of a lover would not part with the
+brooch. Tray, the boy, took it from Beecot's pocket when he met with
+that accident--"
+
+"How do you know Tray?"
+
+"Because I met him at Pash's office several times when I was up. He ran
+errands for Pash before he became regularly employed. I saw that Tray
+was a devil, of whom I could make use. Oh, I know Tray, and I know also
+Hokar the Indian, who placed the sugar on the counter. He went to the
+shop to kill your father at my request. I wanted revenge and the money.
+Hokar was saved from starvation by my good mother. He came of the race
+of Thugs, if you know anything about them--"
+
+"Oh," moaned Sylvia, covering her face again.
+
+"Ah, you do. So much the better. It will save my explaining, as there is
+not much time left before your fool arrives. Hokar saw that I loved to
+hurt living creatures, and he taught me how to strangle cats and dogs
+and things. No one knew but Hokar that I killed them, and it was thought
+he ate them. But he didn't. I strangled them because I loved to see them
+suffer, and because I wished to learn how to strangle in the way the
+Thugs did."
+
+Sylvia was sick with fear and disgust. "For God's sake, don't tell me
+any more," she said imploringly.
+
+But she might as well have spoken to a granite rock. "You shall hear
+everything," said Maud, relentlessly. "I asked Hokar to strangle Krill.
+He went to the shop, but, when he saw that Krill had only one eye, he
+could not offer him to the goddess Bhowanee. He came to me at Judson's
+hotel, after he left the sugar on the counter, and told me the goddess
+would not accept the offering of a maimed man. I did not know what to
+do. I went with my mother to Pash's office, when she was arranging to
+prosecute Krill for bigamy. I met Tray there. He told me he had given
+the brooch to Pash, and that it was in the inner office. My mother was
+talking to Pash within and I chatted to Tray outside. I told Tray I
+wanted to kill Krill, and that if he would help me, I would give him a
+lot of money. He agreed, for he was a boy such as I was when a girl,
+fond of seeing things suffer. You can't wonder at it in me," went on
+Miss Krill, coolly; "my grandmother was hanged for poisoning my
+grandfather, and I expect I inherit the love of murder from her--"
+
+"I won't listen," cried Sylvia, shuddering.
+
+"Oh, yes, you will. I'll soon be done," went on her persecutor, cruelly.
+"Well, then, when I found Tray was like myself I determined to get the
+brooch and hurt Krill--hurt him as he hurt me," she cried vehemently.
+"Tray told me of the cellar and of the side passage. When my mother and
+Pash came out of the inner office and went to the door, I ran in and
+took the brooch. It was hidden under some papers and had escaped my
+mother's eye. But I searched till I got it. Then I made an appointment
+with Tray for eleven o'clock at the corner of Gwynne Street. I went back
+to Judson's hotel, and my mother and I went to the theatre. We had
+supper and retired to bed. That is, my mother did. We had left the
+theatre early, as my mother had a headache, and I had plenty of time.
+Mother fell asleep almost immediately. I went downstairs veiled, and in
+dark clothes. I slipped past the night porter and met Tray. We went by
+the side passage to the cellar. Thinking we were customers Krill let us
+in. Tray locked the door, and I threw myself on Krill. He had not been
+drinking much or I might not have mastered him. As it was, he was too
+terrified when he recognized me to struggle. In fact he fainted. With
+Tray's assistance I bound his hands behind his back, and then we enjoyed
+ourselves," she rubbed her hands together, looking more like a fiend
+than a woman.
+
+Sylvia rose and staggered to the door. "No more--no more."
+
+Maud pushed her back into her chair. "Stop where you are, you whimpering
+fool!" she snarled exultingly, "I have you safe." Then she continued
+quickly and with another glance at the clock, the long hand of which now
+pointed to a quarter to four, "with Tray's assistance I carried Krill up
+to the shop. Tray found an auger and bored a hole in the floor. Then I
+picked up a coil of copper wire, which was being used in packing things
+for Krill to make his escape. I took it up. We laid Krill's neck over
+the hole, and passed the wire round his neck and through the hole. Tray
+went down and tied a cross stick on the end of the wire, so that he
+could put his weight on it when we strangled--"
+
+"Oh--great heaven," moaned Sylvia, stopping her ears.
+
+Maud bent over her and pulled her hands away. "You _shall_ hear you
+little beast," she snarled. "All the time Krill was sensible. He
+recovered his senses after he was bound. I prolonged his agony as much
+as possible. When Tray went down to see after the wire, I knelt beside
+Krill and told him that I knew I was not his daughter, that I intended
+to strangle him as I had strangled Lady Rachel. He shrieked with horror.
+That was the cry you heard, you cat, and which brought you downstairs. I
+never expected that," cried Maud, clapping her hands; "that was a treat
+for Krill I never intended. I stopped his crying any more for assistance
+by pinning his mouth together, as he had done mine over twenty years
+before. Then I sat beside him and taunted him. I heard the policeman
+pass, and the church clock strike the quarter. Then I heard footsteps,
+and guessed you were coming. It occurred to me to give you a treat by
+strangling the man before your eyes, and punish him more severely, since
+the brooch stopped him calling out--as it stopped me--me," she cried,
+striking her breast.
+
+"Oh, how could you--how could--"
+
+"You feeble thing," said Maud, contemptuously, and patting the girl's
+cheek, "you would not have done it I know. But I loved it--I loved it!
+That was living indeed. I went down to the cellar and fastened the door
+behind me. Tray was already pressing on the cross stick at the end of
+the wire, and laughed as he pressed. But I stopped him. I heard you and
+that woman enter the shop, and heard what you said. I prolonged Krill's
+agony, and then I pressed the wire down myself for such a time as I
+thought it would take to squeeze the life out of the beast. Then with
+Tray I locked the cellar door and left by the side passage. We dodged
+all the police and got into the Strand. I did not return to the hotel,
+but walked about with Tray all the night talking with--joy," cried Maud,
+clapping her hands, "with joy, do you hear. When it was eight I went to
+Judson's. The porter thought I had been out for an early walk. My
+mother--"
+
+Here Maud broke off, for Sylvia, who was staring over her shoulder out
+of the window saw a form she knew well at the gate. "Paul--Paul," she
+shrieked, "come--come!"
+
+Maud whipped the black silk handkerchief round the girl's neck. "You
+shall never get that money," she whispered cruelly, "you shall never
+tell anyone what I have told you. Now I'll show you how Hokar taught
+me," she jerked the handkerchief tight. But Sylvia got her hand under
+the cruel bandage and shrieked aloud in despair. At once she heard an
+answering shriek. It was the voice of Deborah.
+
+Maud darted to the door and locked it. Then she returned and, flinging
+Sylvia down, tried again to tighten the handkerchief, her face white and
+fierce and her eyes glittering like a demon's.
+
+"Help--help!" cried Sylvia, and her voice grew weaker. But she struggled
+and kept her hands between the handkerchief and her throat. Maud tried
+to drag them away fiercely. Deborah was battering frantically at the
+door. Paul ran round to the window. It was not locked, and Maud,
+struggling with Sylvia had no time to close it. With a cry of alarm Paul
+threw up the window and jumped into the room. At the same moment
+Deborah, putting her sturdy shoulder to the frail door, burst it open.
+Beecot flung himself on the woman and dragged her back. But she clung
+like a leech to Sylvia with the black handkerchief in her grip. Deborah,
+silent and fierce, grabbed at the handkerchief, and tore it from Maud's
+grasp. Sylvia, half-strangled, fell back in a faint, white as a corpse,
+while Paul struggled with the savage and baffled woman.
+
+"You've killed her," shouted Deborah, and laid her strong hands on Maud,
+"you devil!" She shook her fiercely. "I'll kill you," and she shook her
+again.
+
+Paul threw himself on his knees beside the insensible form of Sylvia and
+left Deborah to deal with Maud. That creature was gasping as Mrs. Tawsey
+swung her to and fro. Then she began to fight, and the two women crashed
+round the little room, upsetting the furniture. Paul took Sylvia in his
+arms, and shrank against the wall to protect her.
+
+A new person suddenly appeared. No less a woman than Matilda. When she
+saw Maud in Deborah's grip she flew at her sister like a tigress and
+dragged her off. Maud was free for a moment. Seeing her chance she
+scrambled out of the window, and ran through the garden down the road
+towards the station. Perhaps she had a vague idea of escape. Deborah,
+exerting her great strength, threw Matilda aside, and without a cry ran
+out of the house and after the assassin who had tried to strangle
+Sylvia. Matilda, true to her salt, ran also, to help Maud Krill, and the
+two women sped in the wake of the insane creature who was swiftly
+running in the direction of the station. People began to look round, a
+crowd gathered like magic, and in a few moments Maud was being chased by
+quite a mob of people. She ran like a hare. Heaven only knows if she
+hoped to escape after her failure to kill Sylvia, but she ran on
+blindly. Into the new street of Jubileetown she sped with the roaring
+mob at her heels. She darted down a side thoroughfare, but Deborah
+gained on her silently and with a savage look in her eyes. Several
+policemen joined in the chase, though no one knew what the flying woman
+had done. Maud turned suddenly up the slope that led to the station. She
+gained the door, darted through it, upset the man at the barrier and
+with clenched fists stood at bay, her back to the rails. Deborah darted
+forward--Maud gave a wild scream and sprang aside: then she reeled and
+fell over the platform. The next moment a train came slowing into the
+station, and immediately the wretched woman was under the cruel wheels.
+When she was picked up she was dead and almost cut to pieces. Lady
+Rachel and Lemuel Krill were revenged.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+A FINAL EXPLANATION
+
+
+Sylvia was ill for a long time after that terrible hour. Although Maud
+had not succeeded in strangling her, yet the black silk handkerchief
+left marks on her neck. Then the struggle, the shock and the remembrance
+of the horrors related by the miserable woman, threw her into a nervous
+fever, and it was many weeks before she recovered sufficiently to enjoy
+life. Deborah never forgave herself for having left Sylvia alone, and
+nursed her with a fierce tenderness which was the result of remorse.
+
+"If that wretch 'ad killed my pretty," she said to Paul, "I'd ha' killed
+her, if I wos hanged fur it five times over."
+
+"God has punished the woman," said Paul, solemnly. "And a terrible death
+she met with, being mutilated by the wheels of the train."
+
+"Serve 'er right," rejoined Deborah, heartlessly. "What kin you expect
+fur good folk if wicked ones, as go strangulating people, don't git the
+Lord down on 'em. Oh, Mr. Beecot," Deborah broke down into noisy tears,
+"the 'orrors that my lovely one 'ave tole me. I tried to stop her, but
+she would tork, and was what you might call delirous-like. Sich murders
+and gory assassins as wos never 'eard of."
+
+"I gathered something of this from what Sylvia let drop when we came
+back from the station," said Beecot, anxiously. "Tell me exactly what
+she said, Deborah."
+
+"Why that thing as is dead, an' may she rest in a peace, she don't
+deserve, tole 'ow she murdered Lady Rachel Sandal an' my ole master."
+
+"Deborah," cried Beecot, amazed. "You must be mistaken."
+
+"No, I ain't, sir. That thing guv my lily-queen the 'orrors. Jes you
+'ear, Mr. Beecot, and creeps will go up your back. Lor' 'ave mercy on us
+as don't know the wickedness of the world."
+
+"I think we have learned something of it lately, Mrs. Tawsey," was
+Paul's grim reply. "But tell me--"
+
+"Wot my pore angel sunbeam said? I will, and if it gives you nightmares
+don't blame me," and Mrs. Tawsey, in her own vigorous, ungrammatical
+way, related what she had heard from Sylvia. Paul was struck with horror
+and wanted to see Sylvia. But this Deborah would not allow. "She's
+sleepin' like a pretty daisy," said Mrs. Tawsey, "so don't you go
+a-disturbin' of her nohow, though acrost my corp you may make a try, say
+what you like."
+
+But Paul thought better of it, thinking Sylvia had best be left in the
+rough, kindly hands of her old nurse. He went off to find Hurd, and
+related all that had taken place. The detective was equally horrified
+along with Beecot when he heard of Sylvia's danger, and set to work to
+prove the truth of what Maud had told the girl. He succeeded so well
+that within a comparatively short space of time, the whole matter was
+made clear. Mrs. Jessop, _alias_ Mrs. Krill, was examined, Tray was
+found and questioned, Matilda was made to speak out, and both Jessop and
+Hokar had to make clean breasts of it. The evidence thus procured proved
+the truth of the terrible confession made by Maud Jessop to the girl she
+thought to strangle. Hurd was amazed at the revelation.
+
+"Never call me a detective again," he said to Paul. "For I am an ass. I
+thought Jessop might be guilty, or that Hokar might have done it. I
+could have taken my Bible oath that Mrs. Krill strangled the man; but I
+never for one moment suspected that smiling young woman."
+
+"Oh," Paul shrugged his shoulders, "she was mad."
+
+"She must have been," ruminated the detective, "else she wouldn't have
+given herself away so completely. Whatever made her tell Miss Norman
+what she had done?"
+
+"Because she never thought that Sylvia would live to tell anyone else.
+That was why she spoke, and thought to torture Sylvia--as she did--in
+the same way as she tortured that wretched man Lemuel. If I hadn't come
+earlier to Rose Cottage than usual, and if Deborah had not met me
+unexpectedly at the station, Sylvia would certainly have been killed.
+And then Maud might have escaped. She laid her plans well. It was she
+who induced Matilda to get her sister to come to Kensington for a chat."
+
+"But Matilda didn't know what Maud was up to?"
+
+"No. Matilda never guessed that Maud was guilty of two murders or
+designed to strangle Sylvia. But Maud made use of her to get Deborah out
+of the house, and it was Maud who made Tray send the letter asking Mrs.
+Purr to come to him, so that she also might be out of the way. In fact
+Maud arranged so that everyone should be away and Sylvia alone. If she
+hadn't wasted time in telling her fearful story, she might have killed
+my poor love. Sylvia was quite exhausted with the struggle."
+
+"Well," said Hurd. "I went with the old woman to the address given in
+that letter which Tray got written for him. He wasn't there, however, so
+I might have guessed it was a do."
+
+"But you have caught him?"
+
+"Yes, in Hunter Street. He was loafing about there at night waiting for
+Maud, and quite ignorant of her death. I made him tell me everything of
+his connection with the matter. He's as bad a lot as that girl, but she
+had some excuse, seeing her grandmother was a murderess; Tray is nothing
+but a wicked little imp."
+
+"Will he be hanged?"
+
+"No, I think not. His youth will be in his favor, though I'd hang him
+myself had I the chance, and so put him beyond the reach of hurting
+anyone. But I expect he'll get a long sentence."
+
+"And Mrs. Krill?"
+
+"Mrs. Jessop you mean. Hum! I don't know. She apparently was ignorant
+that Maud killed Krill, though she might have guessed it, after the way
+in which Lady Rachel was murdered. I daresay she'll get off. I'm going
+to see her shortly and tell her of the terrible death of her daughter."
+
+Paul did not pursue the conversation. He was sick with the horror of the
+business, and, moreover, was too anxious about Sylvia's health to take
+much interest in the winding up of the case. That he left in the hands
+of Hurd, and assured him that the thousand pounds reward, which Mrs.
+Krill had offered, would be paid to him by Miss Norman.
+
+Of course, Pash had known for some time that Maud was too old to have
+been born of Mrs. Jessop's second marriage with Krill; but he never knew
+that the widow had committed bigamy. He counted on keeping her under his
+thumb by threatening to prove that Maud was not legally entitled to the
+money. But when the discovery was made at Beechill and Stowley Churches
+by Miss Qian, the monkey-faced lawyer could do nothing. Beecot could
+have exposed him, and for his malpractices have got him struck off the
+rolls; but he simply punished him by taking away Sylvia's business and
+giving it to Ford. That enterprising young solicitor speedily placed
+the monetary affairs on a proper basis and saw that Sylvia was properly
+reinstated in her rights. Seeing that she was the only child and legal
+heiress of Krill, this was not difficult. The two women who had
+illegally secured possession of the money had spent a great deal in a
+very wasteful manner, but the dead man's investments were so excellent
+and judicious that Sylvia lost comparatively little, and became
+possessed of nearly five thousand a year, with a prospect of her income
+increasing. But she was too ill to appreciate this good fortune. The
+case got into the papers, and everyone was astonished at the strange
+sequel to the Gwynne Street mystery. Beecot senior, reading the papers,
+learned that Sylvia was once more an heiress, and forthwith held out an
+olive branch to Paul. Moreover, the frantic old gentleman, as Deborah
+called him, really began to feel his years, and to feel also that he had
+treated his only son rather harshly. So he magnanimously offered to
+forgive Paul on no conditions whatsoever. For the sake of his mother,
+the young man buried the past and went down to be received in a stately
+manner by his father, and with joyful tears by his mother. Also he was
+most anxious to hear details of the case which had not been made public.
+Paul told him everything, and Beecot senior snorted with rage. The
+recital proved too much for Mrs. Beecot, who retired as usual to bed and
+fortified herself with sal volatile; but Paul and his respected parent
+sat up till late discussing the matter.
+
+"And now, sir," said Beecot senior, grasping the stem of his wine glass,
+as though he intended to hurl it at his son, "let us gather up the
+threads of this infamous case. This atrocious woman who tried to
+strangle your future wife?"
+
+"She has been buried quietly. Her mother was at the funeral and so was
+the father."
+
+"A pretty pair," gobbled the turkey-cock, growing red. "I suppose the
+Government will hang the pair?"
+
+"No. Captain Jessop can't be touched as he had nothing to do with the
+murder, and Sylvia and myself are not going to prosecute him for his
+attempt to get the jewels from Pash."
+
+"Then you ought to. It's a duty you owe to society."
+
+Paul shook his head. "I think it best to leave things as they are,
+father," he said mildly, "especially as Mrs. Jessop, much broken in
+health because of her daughter's terrible end, has gone back with her
+husband to live at his house in Stowley."
+
+"What," shouted Beecot senior, "is that she-devil to go free, too?"
+
+"I don't think she was so bad as we thought," said Paul. "I fancied she
+was a thoroughly bad woman, but she really was not. She certainly
+committed bigamy, but then she thought Jessop was drowned. When he came
+to life she preferred to live with Krill, as he had more money than
+Jessop."
+
+"And, therefore, Jessop, as you say, had free quarters at 'The Red Pig.'
+A most immoral woman, sir--most immoral. She ought to be ducked."
+
+"Poor wretch," said Paul, "her mind has nearly given way under the shock
+of her daughter's death. She loved that child and shielded her from the
+consequences of killing Lady Rachel. The Sandal family don't want the
+case revived, especially as Maud is dead, so Mrs. Jessop--as she is
+now--can end her days in peace. The Government decided to let her go
+under the circumstances."
+
+"Tush," said Beecot senior, "sugar-coated pills and idiocy. Nothing will
+ever be done properly until this Government goes out. And it will,"
+striking the table with his fist, "if I have anything to do with the
+matter. So Mrs. Krill or Jessop is free to murder, and--"
+
+"She murdered no one," interposed Paul, quickly; "she knew that her
+daughter had killed Lady Rachel, and shielded her. But she was never
+sure if Maud had strangled Krill, as she feared to ask her. But as the
+girl was out all night at the time of the murder, Mrs. Jessop, I think,
+knows more than she choses to admit. However, the Treasury won't
+prosecute her, and her mind is now weak. Let the poor creature end her
+days with Jessop, father. Is there anything else you wish to know?"
+
+"That boy Tray?"
+
+"He was tried for being an accessory before the crime, but his counsel
+put forward the plea of his age, and that he had been under the
+influence of Maud. He has been sent to a reformatory for a good number
+of years. He may improve."
+
+"Huh!" grunted the old gentleman, "and silk purses may be made out of
+sow's ears; but not in our time, my boy. We'll hear more of that
+juvenile scoundrel yet. Now that, that blackguard, Hay?"
+
+"He has gone abroad, and is likely to remain abroad. Sandal and Tempest
+kept their word, but I think Hurd put it about that Hay was a cheat and
+a scoundrel. Poor Hay," sighed Paul, "he has ruined his career."
+
+"Bah! he never had one. If you pity scoundrels, Paul, what are you to
+think of good people?"
+
+"Such as Deborah who is nursing my darling? I think she's the best woman
+in the world."
+
+"Except your mother?"
+
+Paul nearly fell from his seat on hearing this remark. Beecot senior
+certainly might have been in earnest, but his good opinion did not
+prevent him still continuing to worry Mrs. Beecot, which he did to the
+end of her life.
+
+"I suppose that Matilda Junk creature had nothing to do with the
+murder?" asked Beecot, after an embarrassing pause--on his son's part.
+
+"No. She knew absolutely nothing, and only attacked Deborah because she
+fancied Deborah was attacking Maud. However, the two sisters have made
+it up, and Matilda has gone back to 'The Red Pig.' She's as decent a
+creature as Deborah, in another way, and was absolutely ignorant of
+Maud's wickedness. Hurd guessed that when she spoke to him so freely at
+Christchurch."
+
+"And the Thug?"
+
+"Hokar? Oh, he is not really a Thug, but the descendant of one. However,
+they can't prove that he strangled anything beyond a few cats and dogs
+when he showed Maud how to use the roomal--that's the handkerchief with
+which the Thugs strangled their victims."
+
+"I'm not absolutely ignorant," growled his father. "I know that. So this
+Hokar goes free?"
+
+"Yes. He would not strangle Aaron Norman because he had but one eye, and
+Bhowanee won't accept maimed persons. Failing him, Maud had to attend to
+the job herself, with the assistance of Tray."
+
+"And this detective?"
+
+"Oh, Ford, with Sylvia's sanction, has paid him the thousand pounds,
+which he shares with his sister, Aurora Qian. But for her searching at
+Stowley and Beechill, we should never have known about the marriage, you
+know."
+
+"No, I don't know. They're far too highly paid. The marriage would have
+come to light in another way. However, waste your own money if you like;
+it isn't mine."
+
+"Nor mine either, father," said Paul, sharply. "Sylvia will keep her own
+fortune. I am not a man to live on my wife. I intend to take a house in
+town when we are married, and then I'll still continue to write."
+
+"Without the spur of poverty you'll never make a hit," grinned the old
+gentleman. "However, you can live where you please. It's no business of
+mine but I demand, as your indulgent father, that you'll bring Sylvia
+down here at least three times a year. Whenever she is well I want to
+see her."
+
+"I'll bring her next week," said Paul, thinking of his mother. "But
+Deborah must come too. She won't leave Sylvia."
+
+"The house is big enough. Bring Mrs. Tawsey also--I'm rather anxious to
+see her. And Sylvia will be a good companion for your mother."
+
+So matters were arranged in this way, and when Paul returned to town he
+went at once to tell Sylvia of the reconciliation. He found her, propped
+up with pillows, seated by the fire, looking much better, although she
+was still thin and rather haggard. Deborah hovered round her and spoke
+in a cautious whisper, which was more annoying than a loud voice would
+have been. Sylvia flushed with joy when she saw Paul, and flushed still
+more when she heard the good news.
+
+"I am so glad, darling," she said, holding Paul's hand in her thin ones.
+"I should not have liked our marriage to have kept you from your
+father."
+
+Mrs. Tawsey snorted. "His frantic par," she said, "ah, well, when I meet
+'im, if he dares to say a word agin my pretty--"
+
+"My father is quite ready to welcome her as a daughter," said Paul,
+quickly.
+
+"An' no poor one either," cried Deborah, triumphantly. "Five thousand a
+year, as that nice young man Mr. Ford have told us is right. Lor'! my
+lovely queen, you'll drive in your chariot and forget Debby."
+
+"You foolish old thing," said the girl, fondly, "you held to me in my
+troubles and you shall share in my joy."
+
+"Allays purvidin' I don't 'ave to leave the laundry in charge of Bart
+an' Mrs. Purr, both bein' infants of silliness, one with gin and t'other
+with weakness of brain. It's well I made Bart promise to love, honor and
+obey me, Mr. Beecot, the same as you must do to my own lily flower
+there."
+
+"No, _I_ am to love, honor and obey Paul," cried Sylvia.
+
+"When?" he asked, taking her in his arms.
+
+"As soon as I can stand at the altar," she replied, blushing, whereat
+Deborah clapped her hands.
+
+"Weddin's an' weddin's an' weddin's agin," cried Mrs. Tawsey, "which my
+sister Matilder being weary of 'er spinstering 'ome 'ave made up 'er
+mind to marry the fust as offers. An' won't she lead 'im a dance
+neither--oh, no, not at all."
+
+"Well, Deborah," said Beecot, "we have much to be thankful for, all of
+us. Let us try and show our gratitude in our lives."
+
+"Ah, well, you may say that," sighed Mrs. Tawsey, in a devout manner.
+"Who'd ha' thought things would have turned out so 'appy-like indeed.
+But you go on with your billin', my lovely ones, and I'll git th'
+mutting broth to put color int' my pretty's cheeks," and she bustled
+out.
+
+Sylvia's heart was too full to say anything. She lay in Paul's strong
+arms, her cheek against his. There she would remain for the rest of her
+life, protected from storm and tempest. And as they sat in silence, the
+chimes of an ancient grandfather's clock, Deborah's chief treasure, rang
+out twice, thrice and again. Paul laughed softly.
+
+"It's like wedding-bells," he whispered, and his future wife sighed a
+sigh of heart-felt joy.
+
+
+                                  THE END
+
+
+
+
+THE BEST NOVELS BY FERGUS HUME
+
+The Mystery of a Hansom Cab                                     $1.25
+
+The Sealed Message                                               1.25
+
+The Sacred Herb                                                  1.25
+
+Claude Duval of Ninety-five                                      1.25
+
+The Rainbow Feather                                              1.25
+
+The Pagan's Cup                                                  1.25
+
+A Coin of Edward VII                                             1.25
+
+The Yellow Holly                                                 1.25
+
+The Red Window                                                   1.25
+
+The Mandarin's Fan                                               1.25
+
+The Secret Passage                                               1.25
+
+The Opal Serpent                                                 1.25
+
+Lady Jim of Curzon Street                                        1.50
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+In this the ASCII version, accents have been dropped.
+
+The advert ("The Best Novels by Fergus Hume") was originally at the
+front of the book, but has been moved to the end.
+
+The following typographical corrections have been made:
+
+(page 8) "furthur" changed to "further"
+(page 11) "Notebook" changed to "Note-book"
+(page 33) "lookout" changed to "look-out"
+(page 49) "eyeglass" changed to "eye-glass"
+(page 59) "hand-bag" changed to "handbag"
+(pages 71, 85) "agoin'" changed to "a-goin'"
+(page 71) "It" changed to "If" in "If we come to"
+(page 84) quotation mark added after "look--look--"
+(page 109) "Deborrah" changed to "Deborah"
+(page 111) quotation mark added before "How dare you"
+(page 113) "pou" changed to "you" ("before you became an heiress")
+(page 132) "is" changed to "it" ("that is was picked up")
+(page 140) "mid-night" changed to "midnight"
+(page 163) "schoolfellow" changed to "school-fellow"
+(page 173) "non-plussed" changed to "nonplussed"
+(page 180) "handbills" changed to "hand-bills"
+(page 188) "beliving" changed to "believing"
+(pages 203, 204) "bed-post" changed to "bedpost"
+(page 214) "sipte" changed to "spite"
+(page 211) used single quotation marks for the inscription
+(page 225) quotation mark added before "On no condition"
+(page 243) quotation mark added after "seem to win,"
+(page 264) quotation mark added before "for I"
+(page 269) quotation mark added after "certificate."
+(page 276) question mark added after "lawyer you are"
+(page 303) "pining" changed to "pinning"
+(page 315) "slience" changed to "silence"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Opal Serpent, by Fergus Hume
+
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