with obstinacy. "I shall
defend her rights."

"Of course," said Mrs. Krill, significantly. "I understand that a wife
with five thousand--"

"I would marry Sylvia without a penny."

"Indeed, sir, that is the only way in which you can marry her. If you
like I shall allow her twenty pounds for a trousseau."

Paul rose and flung back his head again. "You have not got the money
yet, madam," he said defiantly.

Not at all disturbed, Mrs. Krill smiled her eternal smile. "I am here
to get it. There is a will, you say," she added, turning to Pash. "And I
understand from this gentleman," she indicated Beecot slightly, "that
the money is left to Mr. Krill's daughter. Does he name Maud or Sylvia?"

Pash slapped down the certificate irritably. "He names no one. The will
is a hasty document badly worded, and simply leaves all the testator
died possessed of to--my daughter."

"Which of course means Maud here. I congratulate you, dear," she said,
turning to the girl, who looked happy and flushed. "Your father has made
up to us both for his cruelty and desertion."

Seeing that there was nothing to be said, Paul went to the door. But
there his common sense left him and he made a valedictory speech. "I
know that Mr. Krill left the money to Sylvia."

"Oh, no," said the widow, "to his daughter, as I understand the wording
of the will runs. In that case this nameless girl has nothing."

"Pash!" cried Beecot, turning despairingly to the little solicitor.

The old man shook his head and sucked in his cheeks. "I am sorry, Mr.
Beecot," said he, in a pitying tone, "but as the will stands the money
must certainly go to the child born in wedlock. I have the certificate
here," he laid his monkey paw on it, "but of course I shall make
inquiries."

"By all means," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. "My daughter and myself
have lived for many years in Christchurch, Hants. We keep the inn
there--not the principal inn, but a small public-house on the outskirts
of the village. It will be a change for us both to come into five
thousand a year after such penury. Of course, Mr. Pash, you will act for
my daughter and myself."

"Mr. Pash acts for Sylvia," cried Paul, still lingering at the door. The
lawyer was on the horns of a dilemma. "If what Mrs. Krill says is true
I can't dispute the facts," he said irritably, "and I am unwilling to
give up the business. Prove to me, ma'am, that you are the lawful widow
of my late client, and that this is my la