The Opal Serpent Part 18

"Of course not," put in Mrs. Krill, ironically, with another look at his dress.

"But I _do_ care for Sylvia Norman--"

"With whom I have nothing to do."

"She is your husband's daughter."

"But not mine. This is my daughter, Maud--the legal daughter of Lemuel and myself," she added meaningly.

"Good heavens, madam," cried Beecot, his face turning white, "what do you mean?"

Mrs. Krill raised her thick white eyebrows, and shrugged her plump shoulders, and made a graceful motion with her white, be-ringed hand.

"Is there any need for me to explain?" she said calmly.

"I think there is every need," cried Beecot, sharply. "I shall not allow Miss Norman to lose her fortune or--"

"Or lose it yourself, sir. I quite understand. Nevertheless, I am a.s.sured that the law of the land will protect, through me, my daughter's rights. She leaves it in my hands."

"Yes," said the girl, in a voice as full and rich and soft as her smooth-faced mother, "I leave it in her hands."

Paul sat down and concealed his face with a groan. He was thinking not so much of the loss of the money, although that was a consideration, as of the shame Sylvia would feel at her position. Then a gleam of hope darted into his mind. "Mr. Norman was married to Sylvia's mother under his own name. You can't prove the marriage void."

"I have no wish to. When did this marriage take place?"

Beecot looked at the lawyer, who replied. "Twenty-two years ago," and he gave the date.

Mrs. Krill fished in a black morocco bag she carried and brought out a shabby blue envelope. "I thought this might be needed," she said, pa.s.sing it to Pash. "You will find there my marriage certificate. I became the wife of Lemuel Krill thirty years ago. And, as I am still living, I fear the later marriage--" She smiled blandly and shrugged her shoulders again. "Poor girl!" she said with covert insolence.

"Sylvia does not need your pity," cried Beecot, stung by the insinuation.

"Indeed, sir," said Mrs. Krill, sadly, and with the look of a treacherous cat, "I fear she needs the pity of all right-thinking people. Many would speak harshly of her, seeing what she is, but my troubles have taught me charity. I repeat that I am sorry for the girl."

"And again I say there is no need," rejoined Paul, throwing back his head; "and you forget, madam, there is a will."

Mrs. Krill's fresh color turned to a dull white, and her hard eyes shot fire. "A will," she said slowly. "I shall dispute the will if it is not in my favor. I am the widow of this man and I claim full justice.

Besides," she went on, wetting her full lips with her tongue, "I understood from the newspapers that the money was left to Mr. Krill's daughter."

"Certainly. To Sylvia Krill."

"Norman, sir. She has no right to any other name. But I really do not see why I should explain myself to you, sir. If you choose to give this girl your name you will be doing a good act. At present the poor creature is--n.o.body." She let the last word drop from her lips slowly, so as to give Paul its full sting.

Beecot said nothing. He could not dispute what she said. If this woman could prove the marriage of thirty years ago, then Krill, or Norman as he called himself, had committed bigamy, and, in the hard eyes of the law, Sylvia was n.o.body's child. And that the marriage could be proved Paul saw well enough from the looks of the lawyer, who was studying the certificate which he had drawn from the shabby blue envelope. "Then the will--the money is left to Sylvia," he said with obstinacy. "I shall defend her rights."

"Of course," said Mrs. Krill, significantly. "I understand that a wife with five thousand--"

"I would marry Sylvia without a penny."

"Indeed, sir, that is the only way in which you can marry her. If you like I shall allow her twenty pounds for a trousseau."

Paul rose and flung back his head again. "You have not got the money yet, madam," he said defiantly.

Not at all disturbed, Mrs. Krill smiled her eternal smile. "I am here to get it. There is a will, you say," she added, turning to Pash. "And I understand from this gentleman," she indicated Beecot slightly, "that the money is left to Mr. Krill's daughter. Does he name Maud or Sylvia?"

Pash slapped down the certificate irritably. "He names no one. The will is a hasty doc.u.ment badly worded, and simply leaves all the testator died possessed of to--my daughter."

"Which of course means Maud here. I congratulate you, dear," she said, turning to the girl, who looked happy and flushed. "Your father has made up to us both for his cruelty and desertion."

Seeing that there was nothing to be said, Paul went to the door. But there his common sense left him and he made a valedictory speech. "I know that Mr. Krill left the money to Sylvia."

"Oh, no," said the widow, "to his daughter, as I understand the wording of the will runs. In that case this nameless girl has nothing."

"Pash!" cried Beecot, turning despairingly to the little solicitor.

The old man shook his head and sucked in his cheeks. "I am sorry, Mr.

Beecot," said he, in a pitying tone, "but as the will stands the money must certainly go to the child born in wedlock. I have the certificate here," he laid his monkey paw on it, "but of course I shall make inquiries."

"By all means," said Mrs. Krill, graciously. "My daughter and myself have lived for many years in Christchurch, Hants. We keep the inn there--not the princ.i.p.al inn, but a small public-house on the outskirts of the village. It will be a change for us both to come into five thousand a year after such penury. Of course, Mr. Pash, you will act for my daughter and myself."

"Mr. Pash acts for Sylvia," cried Paul, still lingering at the door. The lawyer was on the horns of a dilemma. "If what Mrs. Krill says is true I can't dispute the facts," he said irritably, "and I am unwilling to give up the business. Prove to me, ma'am, that you are the lawful widow of my late client, and that this is my late esteemed client's lawful daughter, and I will act for you."

Mrs. Krill's ample bosom rose and fell and her eyes glittered triumphantly. She cast a victorious glance at Beecot. But that young man was looking at the solicitor. "Rats leave the sinking ship," said he, bitterly; "you will not prosper, Pash."

"Everyone prospers who protects the widow and the orphan," said Pash, in a pious tone, and so disgusted Paul that he closed the door with a bang and went out. Tray was playing chuck-farthing at the door and keeping Mr. Grexon Hay from coming in.

"You there, Beecot?" said this gentleman, coldly. "I wish you would tell this brat to let me enter."

"Brat yourself y' toff," cried Tray, pocketing his money. "Ain't I a-doin' as my master tells me? He's engaged with two pretty women"--he leered in a way which made Paul long to box his ears--"so I don't spile sport. You've got tired of them, Mr. Beecot?"

"How do you know Mr. Beecot's name?" asked Hay, calmly.

"Lor', sir. Didn't you and me pull him from under the wheels?"

"Oh," said Grexon, suddenly enlightened, "were you the boy? Since you have washed your face I didn't recognize you. Well, Beecot, you look disturbed."

"I have reason to. And since you and this boy pulled me from under the wheels of the motor," said Paul, glancing from one to the other, "I should like to know what became of the brooch."

"I'm sure I don't know," said Grexon, quietly. "We talked of this before. I gave it as my opinion, if you remember, that it was picked up in the street by the late Aaron Norman and was used to seal his mouth.

At least that is the only way in which I can conjecture you lost it."

"You never saw it drop from my pocket?"

"I should have picked it up and returned it had I seen it," said Hay, fixing his eye-gla.s.s. "Perhaps this boy saw it."

"Saw what?" asked Tray, who was listening with both his large ears.

"An old blue-velvet case with a brooch inside," said Beecot, quickly.

Tray shook his head vigorously. "If I'd seen it I' ha' nicked it," he said impudently; "catch me givin' it back t' y', Mr. Beecot. There's a cove I knows--a fence that is--as 'ud give me lots fur it. Lor'," said Tray, with deep disappointment, "to think as that dropped out of your pocket and I never grabbed it. Wot crewel luck--ho!" and he spat.