her to come to London
to see her wounded darling. This in itself was annoying enough, but Paul
was still more irritated and excited by the report of Aaron's terrible
death, which he saw in a newspaper. So much had this moved him that he
was thrown into a high state of fever, and the doctor refused to allow
him to read the papers. Luckily, Paul, for his own sake, had somewhat
calmed down when Hurd arrived, so the detective was permitted to see
him. He sat by the bedside and told the patient who he was. Beecot
looked at him sharply, and then recognized him.

"You are the workman," he said astonished.

"Yes, Mr. Beecot, I am. I hear that you have not taken my warning
regarding your friend, Mr. Grexon Hay."

"Ah! Then you knew his name all the time!"

"Of course I did. I merely spoke to you to set you on your guard against
him. He'll do you no good."

"But he was at school with me," said Beecot, angrily.

"That doesn't make him any the better companion," replied Hurd; "see
here, Mr. Beecot, we can talk of this matter another time. At present,
as I am allowed to converse with you only for a short time, I wish to
ask you about the opal serpent."

Paul sat up, although Hurd tried to keep him down. "What do you know of
that?--why do you come to me?"

"I know very little and want to know more. As I told you, my name is
Billy Hurd, and, as I did _not_ tell you, I am the detective whom the
Treasury has placed in charge of this case."

"Norman's murder?"

"Yes! Have you read the papers?"

"A few, but not enough. The doctors took them from me and--"

"Gently, Mr. Beecot. Let us talk as little as possible. Where did you
get that brooch?"

"Why do you want to know? You don't suspect me, I hope?"

Hurd laughed. "No. You have been in this ward all the time. But as the
brooch was used cruelly to seal the dead man's mouth, it seems to me,
and to Inspector Prince, that the whole secret of the murder lies in
tracing it to its original possessor. Now tell me all about it," said
Billy, and spread out his note-book.

"I will if you'll tell me about Miss Norman. I'm engaged to marry her
and I hear she is ill."

"Oh, she is much better," said Hurd, pausing pencil in hand, "don't
distress yourself. That young lady is all right; and when you marry her
you'll marry an heiress, as I learn from the lawyer who does the
business of the deceased."

"I don't care about her being the heiress. Will you take a message to
her from me?