"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 a.s.sa.s.sin," she replied coolly.

Hurd was amazed at this brazen a.s.surance, 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 various points 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 with your 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 ident.i.ty 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."