"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 pa.s.sed from Mr. Hay's hands into those of the a.s.sa.s.sin.

"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 a.s.sisted 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 coa.r.s.e 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 G.o.ddess."

"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."