d the papers, he ought certainly to
know the name, and he was on the point of making, perhaps an injudicious
remark, but Hay pointedly looked at him in such a meaning way, that he
held his tongue. More, when they left their wine for the society of the
ladies, Hay squeezed his friend's arm in the passage.

"Don't mention the death," he said, using a politer word by preference.
"Sandal doesn't connect Mrs. Krill with the dead man. She wants to live
the matter down."

"In that case she ought to leave London for a time."

"She intends to. When I make Maud my wife, we will travel with her
mother for a year or two, until the scandal of the murder blows over.
Luckily the name of Lemuel Krill was not mentioned often in the papers,
and Sandal hasn't seen a hand-bill that I know of. I suppose you agree
with me that silence is judicious?"

"Yes," assented Paul, "I think it is."

"And you congratulate me on my approaching marriage?"

"Certainly. Now, perhaps, you will live like Falstaff when he was made a
knight."

Hay did not understand the allusion and looked puzzled. However, he had
no time to say more, as they entered the drawing-room. Almost as soon as
they did, Mrs. Krill summoned Paul to her side.

"And now," she said, "let us talk of Miss Norman."

CHAPTER XV

A NEW CLUE

"I don't wish to talk of Miss Norman," said Paul, bluntly.

"Then you can be no true lover," retorted the widow.

"I disagree with you. A true lover does not talk to all and sundry
concerning the most sacred feelings of his heart. Moreover, your remarks
at our last meeting were not to my taste."

"I apologize," said Mrs. Krill, promptly, "and will not offend in that
way again. I did not know you then, but since Mr. Hay has spoken about
you to me, I know and appreciate you, Mr. Beecot."

But Paul was not to be cajoled in this manner. The more suave the woman
was, the more he felt inclined to be on his guard, and he very wisely
obeyed the prompting of his instinct. "I fear you do _not_ know me, Mrs.
Krill," said he as coldly as Hay could have spoken, "else you would
hardly ask me to discuss with you, of all people, the lady whom I intend
to make my wife."

"You are rather a difficult man to deal with," she replied, drawing her
thick white eyebrows together. "But I like difficult men. That is why I
admire Mr. Hay: he is not a silly, useless butterfly like that young
lord there."

"Silly he is not, but I doubt his being useful. So