aresay," rejoined the actress, tartly, "for he has been engaged for
many a long day--say two years."

"I thought so," said Hurd, triumphantly. "I always fancied the meeting
at Pash's office was a got-up thing."

"What made you think so?"

"Because, when disguised as the Count de la Tour, I overheard Hay
address Miss Krill as Maud, and it was the first time she and her mother
came to his rooms. Sandal was there, and gambling went on as usual. I
lost money myself," said Hurd, with a grimace, "in order to make Hay
think I was another pigeon to pluck. But the mention of the Christian
name on so short an acquaintance showed me that Hay and Miss Krill had
met before. I expect the meeting at Pash's office was a got-up game."

"You said that before, Billy. How you repeat yourself! Yes. There's an
inscription on the portrait--'From Grexon to Maud with much
love'--sweet, isn't it? when you think what an icicle the man is. There
is also a date--two years ago the photograph was given. I admired the
photograph and asked the landlady who was the swell."

"What's the landlady's name?"

"Matilda Junk."

Hurd almost jumped from his seat. "That's queer," he said, "the woman
who is devoted to Miss Norman and who nursed her since she was a baby is
called Deborah Junk."

"I know that," said Aurora, "I'm not quite a fool, Billy. I mentioned
Deborah Junk, whom I saw at the inquest on Norman's body. The landlady
said she was her sister, but she had not heard of her for ages. And this
Matilda is just like Deborah in looks--a large Dutch doll with beady
eyes and a badly painted face."

"Well, that's a point," said Hurd, making a note. "What did she say
about the photograph?"

"Oh, that it was one of Mr. Hay who was Miss Krill's young man, and that
they had been engaged for two years--"

"Matilda seems to be a chatterbox."

"She is. I got a lot out of her."

"Then there can be nothing to conceal on the part of Mrs. Krill?"

"Well," said Aurora, throwing the empty sweetmeat bag out of the window
and brushing her lap, "so far as I can discover, Mrs. Krill is a
perfectly respectable person, and has lived for thirty years as the
landlady of 'The Red Pig.' Matilda acknowledged that her mistress had
inherited the money of Lemuel Krill, and Matilda knows all about the
murder."

"Matilda is wrong," said the detective, dryly; "Miss Krill gets the
money."

Aurora smiled. "From what I heard, Miss Krill has to do what her mother
tells h