leave England. I tell you, Mr. Beecot, even at the risk of
hurting your feelings, that I want that girl away from London. My
husband treated me very badly--he was a brute always--and I hate to
have that girl before my eyes."

"Yet she is innocent."

"Have I not said that a dozen times," rejoined Mrs. Krill, impatiently.
"What is the use of further discussion. Do you accept my offer?"

"I will convey it to Miss Norman. It is for her to decide."

"But you have the right since you are to be her husband."

"Pardon me, no. I would never take such a responsibility on me. I shall
tell Miss Norman what you say, and convey her answer to you."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. But she was annoyed that her
golden bait had not been taken immediately, and, in spite of her
suavity, Paul could see that she was annoyed, the more so when she began
to explain. "Of course you understand my feelings."

"I confess I don't quite. Naturally, the fact that you are connected
with the murder in the public eyes--"

"Pardon me," said the woman, swiftly, "but I am not. The name of Krill
has hardly been noticed. The public know that Aaron Norman was murdered.
No one talks of Lemuel Krill, or thinks that I am the widow of the
murdered man. Possibly I may come across some people who will connect
the two names, and look askance at me, but the majority of people--such
as Lord George there," she pointed with her fan, "do not think of me in
the way you say. As he did, they will think they remember the name--"

"Lord George did not say that to you," said Paul, swiftly.

"No. But he did to Mr. Hay, who told me," rejoined Mrs. Krill, quite as
swiftly.

"To-night?" asked Beecot, remembering that Hay had not spoken privately
to Mrs. Krill since they came in from the dining-room.

"Oh, no--on another occasion. Lord George has several times said that he
has a faint recollection of my name. Possibly the connection between me
and the murder may occur to his mind, but he is really so very stupid
that I hope he will forget all about the matter."

"I wonder you don't change your name," said Paul, looking at her.

"Certainly not, unless public opinion forces me to change it," she said
defiantly. "My life has always been perfectly open and above board, not
like that of my husband."

"Why did he change his name?" asked Beecot, eagerly--too eagerly, in
fact, for she drew back.

"Why do you ask?" she inquired coldly.

Paul shrugged his should