self," said the
detective, coolly; "you had better let your mother go quietly, and I
won't say anything to Matilda Junk."

"Yes, do, Maud," urged the mother, placing an imploring hand on her tall
daughter's shoulder; "it's better so. Everything will be put right when
the magistrate hears my story."

"What will you tell him, mother?" asked Maud.

"That I am innocent, and that I am, as you are, ignorant of who killed
your unfortunate father."

Matilda entered the room and heard that Mrs. Krill had to go out on
business with Mr. Hurd. On receiving her orders she departed, and
presently returned with the cloak and hat. Mrs. Krill, who was now quite
cool, put these on. Hurd could not but admire the brave way in which she
faced the terrible situation. Maud seemed to be far more upset, and Hurd
wondered if the young woman knew the truth. Mrs. Krill kept soothing
her. "It will be all right, my love. Don't excite yourself. It will be
all right," she said several times.

Miss Junk departed, and Mrs. Krill said that she was ready to depart.
Hurd offered her his arm, which she rejected, and walked to the door
with a firm step, although her face was rather white. At the door she
caught her daughter round the neck and kissed her several times, after
which she whispered earnestly in her ear, and then went down the stairs
with the detective in attendance. Maud, with white lips and cheeks, but
with dry eyes, followed. When her mother was safely in the cab, the
plain-clothes policeman alighted, so that Hurd might take his place.
Maud came quietly down the steps and seized the detective by the arm.

"You have ruined my mother," she said in a cold, hard tone; "you have
robbed me of my money and of the chance of marrying the man I love. I
can't hurt you; but that girl, Sylvia--she shall never get one
penny--so, remember!"

Hurd shook her off, and, stepping into the cab, drove away. Mrs. Krill
looked apprehensively at him. "What did Maud say?" she asked. Hurd told
her, and Mrs. Krill closed her lips firmly. "Maud is quite right," she
said with a strange smile. "Sylvia will never get the money."

CHAPTER XXV

A CRUEL WOMAN

"Jus' say your meanin', my pretty queen," said Mrs. Tawsey, as she stood
at the sitting-room door, and watched Sylvia reading an ill-written
letter. "It's twelve now, and I kin be back by five, arter a long, and
enjiable tork with Matilder."

"You certainly must go," replied Sylvia, handing back the l