rry and be happy, of course," said Paul, rejoicing not so much
on account of the money, although that was acceptable, but because this
delightful girl was all his very--very own.

"The question is," said Mr. Pash, who had been reflecting, and now
reproduced the will from his pocket, "as to the name?"

"What name?" asked Sylvia, and Deborah echoed the question.

"Your name." Pash addressed the girl direct. "Your father's real name
was Krill--Lemuel Krill."

Sylvia looked amazed, Deborah uttered her usual ejaculation, "Lor'!" but
Paul's expression did not change. He considered that this was all of a
piece with the murder and the mystery of the opal brooch. Undoubtedly
Mr. Lemuel Krill, _alias_ Aaron Norman, must have had good reason to
change his name and to exhibit terror at the sight of the brooch. And
the reason he dreaded, whatever it might be, had been the cause of his
mysterious and tragic death. But Paul said nothing of these thoughts and
there was silence for a few minutes.

"Lor,'" said Deborah again, "and I never knew. Do he put that name to
that, mister?" she asked, pointing to the will.

"Yes! It is signed Lemuel Krill," said Pash. "I wonder you didn't notice
it at the moment."

"Why, bless you, Mr. Pash, there weren't no moment," said Deborah, her
hands on her hips as usual. "Master made that there will only a short
time before he was killed."

Pash nodded. "I note the date," said he, "all in order--quite."

"Master," went on Deborah, looking at Paul, "never got over that there
fainting fit you gave him with the serping brooch. And he writes out
that will, and tells Bart and me to put our names to it. But he covered
up his own name with a bit of red blotting-paper. I never thought but
that he hadn't put Aaron Norman, which was his name."

"It was not his name," said Pash. "His real name I have told you, and
for years I have known the truth."

"Do you know why he changed his name?" asked Beecot, quickly.

"No, sir, I don't. And if I did, I don't know if it would be legal
etiquette to reveal the reason to a stranger."

"He's not a stranger," cried Sylvia, annoyed.

"Well, then, to a young gentleman whom I have only seen twice. Why do
you ask, Mr. Beecot?"

"I was wondering if the change of name had anything to do with the
murder," said Paul, hesitating.

"How could it," said Pash, testily, "when the man never expected to be
murdered?"

"Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash, but you're all out," s