," said Paul, rising. "Let us talk of more
interesting subjects."

"Paul, I can think of nothing till I learn who killed my poor father,
and why he was killed so cruelly."

"Then we must wait patiently, Sylvia. Hurd is looking after the matter,
and I have every confidence in Hurd. And, by Jove!" added Beecot, with
an after-thought, "Mrs. Krill doubled the reward. Were she concerned in
the matter she would not risk sharpening the wits of so clever a man as
Hurd. No, Sylvia, whosoever strangled your father it was not Mrs.
Krill."

"It was this Indian," insisted Sylvia, "and he's a Thug."

Paul laughed although he was far from thinking she might be wrong. Of
course it seemed ridiculous that a Thug should strangle the old man. In
the first place, the Thugs have been blotted out; in the second, if any
survived, they certainly would not exercise their devilish religion in
England, and in the third, Hokar, putting aside his offering strangled
victims to Bhowanee, the goddess of the sect, had no reason for slaying
an unoffending man. Finally, there was the sailor to be accounted
for--the sailor who had tried to get the jewels from Pash. Paul wondered
if Hurd had found out anything about this individual. "It's all very
difficult," sighed Beecot, "and the more we go into the matter the more
difficult does it get. But we'll see light some day. Hurd, if anyone,
will unravel the mystery," and Sylvia agreed with him.

CHAPTER XVII

HURD'S INFORMATION

For the next day or two Paul was kept closely to work in the office,
reading a number of tales which were awaiting his judgment. After hours,
he several times tried to see Billy Hurd, but was unable to meet him. He
left a note at the Scotland Yard office, asking if Hurd had received his
communication regarding Mrs. Krill, and if so, what he proposed to do
concerning it. Hurd did not reply to this note, and Paul was growing
puzzled over the silence of the detective. At length the answer came,
not in writing, but in the person of Hurd himself, who called on Beecot.

The young man had just finished his frugal meal and was settling down to
an evening's work when there came a knock to the door. Hurd, dressed in
his usual brown suit, presented himself, looking cool and composed. But
he was more excited than one would imagine, as Paul saw from the
expression of his eyes. The detective accepted a cup of coffee and
lighted his pipe. Then he sat down in the arm-chair on the oppos