hat
my grandfather hushed it up. I can't say exactly what took place. But I
know it happened at a small pub kept by a woman called Krill. Do you
think this woman is the same?"

"It's hardly likely," said Paul, mendaciously. "How could a woman who
kept a small public house become suddenly rich?"

"True," answered Lord George, as they stopped in the Circus, "and she'd
have let on she knew about my name had she anything to do with the
matter. All the same, I'll ask her."

"Do so," said Paul, stepping out of the cab. He was perfectly satisfied
that Mrs. Krill was quite equal to deceiving Sandal. The wonder was,
that she had not held her peace to him about "The Red Pig."

"You won't come on to my club?" asked Sandal, leaning out of the cab.

"No, thank you," replied Paul. "Good-night," and he walked away.

The fact is Beecot wished to put on paper all that he had heard that
night and send it to Hurd. As soon as he reached his attic he set to
work and wrote out a detailed account of the evening.

"You might find out if Lady Rachel committed suicide or whether she
was strangled by someone else," ended Beecot. "Certainly the
mention of the serpent brooch is curious. This may be the event in
Norman's past life which led him to change his name."

Paul wrote much more and then went out to post the letter. It was after
midnight when he did, so there was not much chance of Hurd getting the
letter before the second or third post the next day. But Paul felt that
he had done his duty, and had supplied the information as speedily as
possible, so he went to sleep with a quiet mind, in spite of the
excitement of the evening. But next morning he was unable to sit down to
his desk as usual, and felt disinclined to go to the newspaper office,
so he walked to Jubileetown to see how Sylvia was getting along. Deborah
met him at the gate.

"Well I never, Mr. Beecot," said Mrs. Tawsey, with her red arms akimbo
in her usual attitude; "this is a sight for sore eyes. Won't my pretty
be 'appy this day, say what you may. She's a-makin' out bills fur them
as 'ad washin' done, bless her 'eart for a clever beauty."

"How is business?" asked Paul, entering the gate, which Deborah opened.

"Bless you, Mr. Beecot, I'll be a lady of forting soon," answered the
proprietress of the laundry, "the way washing 'ave come in is jest
amazin'. One 'ud think folk never 'ad no linen done up afore, and that
they never did 'ave," said Debo