"At what time?"

"About half-past eight--say between eight and nine."

"Well, what happened?" asked Hurd, smoking quietly.

The sailor twisted his big hands and groaned. Then he laid his head on the table and began to sob, talking brokenly and huskily. "I'm done for," he gasped. "I'd know'd it would come--no--I ain't sorry. I've had a nightmare of a time. Oh--since I p.a.w.ned that brooch--"

"Ah. Then you did p.a.w.n the brooch at Stowley?"

Jessop sat up and wiped his eyes. "Yes, I did. But I pulled my cap down over my eyes and b.u.t.toned up my pea-jacket. I never thought old Tinker would ha' knowed me."

"Wasn't it rather rash of you to p.a.w.n the brooch in a place where you were well known?"

"I wasn't well known. I only come at times, and then I went away. Old Tinker hadn't seen me more nor once or twice, and then I pulled down my cap and--" Jessop, badly shaken, was beginning to tell the episode over again, when Hurd stopped him.

"See here," said the detective. "You say that you are innocent?"

"I swear that I am," gasped Jessop.

"Well, then, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. My business is not to hang innocent people. Take a gla.s.s of rum and tell me all you know, beginning with your first meeting with Krill and running down through the death of Lady Rachel to your last meeting in the Gwynne Street cellar."

"And when you know all?"

"Then I'll see what is to be done."

"Will you arrest me?"

"I have arrested you. Don't make conditions with me, man," said Hurd, with a stern face. "The night is growing late and I want to get to the bottom of this business before we go to bed. Take some rum."

Seeing there was nothing for it but to make a clean breast, Captain Jarvey Jessop wasted no further time in useless lamentation. He could have smashed Hurd easily enough, even though there was the risk of being shot. But the fracas would bring others on the scene, and Jessop knew he could not deal with the police. Therefore, he took a stiff peg and became quieter. In fact, when once started on his confession, he appeared to be rather relieved.

"It's been a nightmare," said he, wiping his forehead. "I'm glad it's come to the lawr, that I am. I met Krill, as he wos then, some twenty-five year back by chance, as you may say"--he cast a strange look at the detective, which the latter noted--"yes, by chance, Mr. Hurd. I found he kep' the pub here, and this bein' no distance from Southampton I took to runnin' down here when the barkey was at anchor. Me an' Krill became great mates, and I'd what you might call free quarters here--yes, sir--it's a frozen fact."

"Very generous of Mr. Krill," remarked Hurd, dryly, and wondering what the man was keeping back.

"Oh, he was right enough as a mate when not drunk; but the liquor made a howling dorg of him. I've seen many drunk in many places," said Jessop, "but anyone who held his liquor wuss nor Krill I never did see. He'd knife you as soon as look at you when drunk."

"But he evidently preferred strangling."

"Hold on, mate," said Jessop, with another deep pull at the rum. "I'm comin' to that night. We wos both on the bust, as y'may say, and Mrs.

Krill she didn't like it, so got to bed with the child."

"How old was the child?"

"Maud? Oh, you might say she was thirteen or fifteen. I can't be sure of her age. What's up?"

For Hurd, seeing in this admission a confirmation that Maud was either not Krill's child or was illegitimate, and could not inherit the money, had showed his feelings. However, he made some trivial excuse, not wishing to be too confidential, and begged Jessop to proceed.

"Well, mate," said the captain, filling another gla.s.s of rum, "y'see the lady had come earlier and had been put to bed by the missus. I never saw her myself, being drinking in this very room along o' Krill. But _he_ saw her," added Jessop, emphatically, "and said as she'd a fine opal brooch, which he wish he'd had, as he wanted money and the missus kept him tight."

"Krill was a judge of jewels?"

"Travelled in jewels once," said the captain. "Bless you, he could size up a precious stone in no time. But he sat drinking with me, and every now and then got out of the room, when he'd stop away for perhaps a quarter of an hour at the time."

"Did he mention the opal brooch again?"

"No," said Jessop, after reflection, "he didn't. But he got so drunk that he began to show fight, as he always did when boozy, though a timid chap when sober. I concluded, wishing no row, to git to my hammock, and cut up stairs. Then I went by mistake into the room of that pore lady, carrying a candle, and saw her tied to the bedpost stone dead, with a silk handkerchief round her neck. I shouted out blue murder, and Mrs.

Krill with the kid came tumbling down. I was so feared," added Jessop, wiping his forehead at the recollection, "that I ran out of doors."

"What good would that do?"

"Lor', I dunno," confessed the man, shivering, "but I wos skeered out of my life. It wos rainin' pitchforks, as y'might say, and I raced on through the rain for an hour or so. Then I thought, as I wos innocent, I'd make tracks back, and I did. I found Krill had cut."

"Did his wife tell you?"

"Oh, she wos lying on the floor insensible where he'd knocked her down.

And the kid--lor'," Jessop spat, "she was lying in the corner with her lips fastened together with the brooch."

"What?" cried Hurd, starting to his feet. "The same as her--the same as Norman's was?"

Jessop nodded and drank some rum. "Made me sick it did. I took th'

brooch away and slipped it into my pocket. Then the kid said her father had fastened her lips together and had knocked her mother flat when she interfered. I brought Mrs. Krill round and then left her with the kid, and walked off to Southampton. The police found me there, and I told them what I tell you."

"Did you tell about the brooch?"

"Well, no, I didn't," confessed Jessop, coolly, "an' as the kid and the mother said nothing, I didn't see why I shouldn't keep it, wantin'

money. So I went to Stowley and p.a.w.ned it, then took a deep sea voyage for a year. When I come back, all was over."

"Do you think Krill murdered the woman?" asked Hurd, pa.s.sing over for the moment the fact that Jessop had stolen the brooch.

"He said he didn't," rejoined the man with emphasis, "but I truly believe, mister, as he did, one of them times, when mad with drink and out of the room. He wanted the brooch, d'ye see, though why he should have lost the loot by sealin' the kid's mouth with it I can't say."

"When did you come across Krill again?"

"Ho," said Jessop, drawing his hand across his mouth, "'twas this way, d'ye see. I come round here lots, and a swell come too, a cold--"

"Grexon Hay," said Hurd, pointing to the photograph.

"Yes. That's him," said Jessop, staring, "and I hated him just, with his eye-gla.s.s and his sneerin' ways. He loved the kid, now a growed, fine gal, as you know, and come here often. In June--at the end of it anyhow--he comes and I hears him tells Mrs. Krill, who was always looking for her husband, that a one-eyed bookseller in Gwynne Street, Drury Lane, had fainted when he saw the very identical brooch showed him by another cove."

"Beecot. I know. Didn't you wonder how the brooch had left the p.a.w.nshop?" asked Hurd, very attentive.

"No, I didn't," snarled Jessop, who was growing cross. "I knew old Tinker's a.s.sistant had sold the brooch and he didn't oughter t' have done it, as I wanted it back. Mrs. Krill asked me about the brooch, and wanted it, so I said I'd get it back. Tinker said it was gone, but wrote to the gent as bought it."

"Mr. Simon Beecot, of Wargrove, in Ess.e.x."

"That wos him; but the gent wouldn't give it back, so I 'spose he'd given it to his son. Well, then, when Mrs. Krill heard of the one-eyed man fainting at sight of the brooch, she knew 'twas her husband, as he'd one eye, she having knocked the other out when he was sober."