thirty--can't you see, Sylvia?"

"Yes." Sylvia colored. "You mean she may be the same as I am?"

"Not exactly, dear," replied Paul, soothing her. "I mean that Mrs. Krill
may have been a widow and have had her little girl with her when she
married your father. In that case Maud certainly could not get the
money, and so Mrs. Krill wants you to leave England."

"In case I would get it," said Sylvia, excited.

Paul looked puzzled and rather sad. "I can't say, dear," he replied
doubtfully. "Certainly the money is left to 'my daughter,' but as the
marriage with your mother unfortunately is void, I fear you would not
inherit. However," he said grimly, "there would be a certain pleasure in
taking the money from that woman. Maud is a mere puppet in her hands,"
he laughed. "And then Hay would marry a poor bride," he ended
maliciously.

Sylvia could not quite understand all this, and gave up trying to solve
the problem with a pretty gesture of indifference. "What will you do,
Paul?" she asked.

"I'll see Hurd and tell him what you and Deborah say about the age of
Maud Krill."

"Why not see Mr. Pash?"

"Because he is a traitor," replied Beecot, darkly, "and, knowing he has
lost your confidence, he will certainly try and give Maud Krill
possession of the money. No, I'll speak to Hurd, who is my friend and
yours. He is clever and will be able to unravel this tangle."

"Tell him about the goor also, Paul."

"Yes. I'll explain everything I can, and then I'll get him to go down to
Christchurch and see what happened there, when your father lived with
Maud's mother."

"What did happen, Paul?" asked Sylvia, anxiously.

"Nothing," he replied with an assumption of carelessness, for he did not
want to tell the girl about the fate of Lady Rachel Sandal, "but we may
find in your father's past life what led to his murder."

"Do you think Mrs. Krill had anything to do with it?"

"My own, you asked that question before. No, I don't. Still, one never
knows. I should think Mrs. Krill is a dangerous woman, although I fancy,
too clever to risk being hanged. However, Hurd can find out if she was
in town on the night your father was killed."

"That was on the sixth of July," said Sylvia.

"Yes. And he was murdered at twelve."

"After twelve," said Sylvia. "I heard the policeman on his beat at a
quarter-past, and then I came down. Poor father was strangled before our
very eyes," she said, shuddering.

"Hush, dear. Don't speak of it