Table of Contents
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 whenthe murder took place. It was then that Mr. Beecot met with his accident. Therefore, you could not have given the brooch to Mr. Pash thenextmorning, 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."
"Hedidprig the brooch from me, and hedidkill 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; "youtake 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. Fromthe 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 wasrather 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."
"Idon'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 boydidshow 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 wasNorman'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 hishand; "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—Ididmiss 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."
Table of Contents
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 beused 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. 32AHunter 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 ironyof 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 variouspoints 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 withyour 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 shecommitted 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,aliasAnne Jessop,aliasAnne 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."
"Yourdaughter, 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. Shelooked 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 Krillwasmy 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 hisplace. 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."