"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 b.u.t.terfly 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 n.o.body 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 embarra.s.sing. 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."