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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 readilyenough, 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 sheworshipped 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 simperingadmirer 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 forwardand 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 underthe 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 betterimagined 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 beingcold 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 onething. 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—andas 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, "thatwill 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.
Table of Contents
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 lipstogether, 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 hadto 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 Paulcould 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 hehad 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 ticketand 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. Krilldidget 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 girlbeing 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 shehad 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 wasany 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 Icut 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.Hedid it. Pash did it," and he howled again.