Aurora, at a hint from her
brother, went to her bedroom to change her dress, and Hurd spoke to
Matilda, when she brought in the tray. "I know your sister," said he.

Miss Junk nearly dropped the tray. "Lor', now, only think! Why, we ain't
wrote to one another for ten years. And I left London eleven years back.
And how is she, sir? and where is she?"

"She is well; she has a laundry in Jubileetown near London, and she is
married to a fellow called Bart Tawsey."

"Married!" cried Matilda, setting down the tray and putting her arms
akimbo, just like Deborah, "lor', and me still single. But now I've got
this 'ouse, and a bit put by, I'll think of gittin' a 'usband. I ain't
a-goin' to let Debby crow over me."

"Your sister was in the service of Mr. Norman before she took up the
laundry," observed Hurd, pouring out a cup of tea.

"Was she, now? And why did she leave?"

The name of Norman apparently was unknown to Matilda, so Hurd tried the
effect of another bombshell. "Her master was murdered under the name of
Lemuel Krill."

"Mercy," Matilda dropped into a chair, with a thud which shook the room;
"why, that's my ladies' husband and father."

"What ladies?" asked Hurd, pretending ignorance.

"My ladies, Mrs. Krill and Miss Maud. They had this 'ouse, and kep' it
for years respectable. I worked for 'em ten, and when my ladies comes in
for a forting, for a forting there is, they gave me the goodwill of 'The
Red Pig.' To think of Debby being the servant of poor Mr. Krill as was
killed. Who killed 'im?"

"Doesn't your mistress know?"

"She," cried Matilda, indignantly, and bouncing up. "Why, she was always
a-lookin' for him, not as she loved him over much. And as he is dead,
sir, it's no more as what he oughter be, seeing as he killed a poor lady
in this very 'ouse. You'll sleep in 'er room to-night," added Matilda,
as if that was a pleasure. "Strangled, she was."

"I think I heard of that. But Lady Rachel Sandal committed suicide."

Matilda rubbed her nose, after the Deborah fashion. "Well, sir, my
ladies were never sure which it was, and, of course, it was before my
time considerable, being more nor twenty year back. But the man as did
it is dead, and lef' my ladies his money, as he oughter. An' Miss Maud's
a-goin' to marry a real gent"--Matilda glanced at the photograph--"I
allays said he wos a gent, bein' so 'aughty like, and wearing evening
dress at meals, late."

"Was he ever down here, this gentleman?"

"