"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 a.s.sistance. 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 a.s.sistance. 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 p.a.w.nbroker 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 circ.u.mstance of Lady Rachel's fate was so old, n.o.body 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 p.a.w.ned 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 p.a.w.ned 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 p.a.w.ned 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 p.a.w.ning 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,"