The Opal Serpent Part 29

Paul started. "Yes, by Jove! he did," was his reply.

"Well, then," said Sylvia, triumphantly, "that sugar was goor, and the Thugs eat it before strangling anyone, and father was strangled."

Beecot could not but be impressed. "It is certainly very strange," he said, looking at the book. "And it was queer your father should have been strangled on the very night when this Indian Hokar left the sugar on the counter. A coincidence, Sylvia darling."

"No. Why should Hokar leave the sugar at all?"

"Well, he didn't eat it, and therefore, if he was a Thug, he would have done so, had he intended to strangle your father."

"I don't know," said Sylvia, with a look of obstinacy on her pretty face. "But remember the cruel way in which my father was killed, Paul.

It's just what an Indian would do, and then the sugar--oh, I'm quite sure this hawker committed the crime."

Beecot shook his head and strove to dissuade her from entertaining this idea. But Sylvia, usually so amenable to reason, refused to discard her theory, and indeed Paul himself thought that the incident of the sugar was queer. He determined to tell Hurd about the matter, and then the hawker might be found and made to explain why he had left the goor on the counter. "But the sect of the Thugs is extinct," argued Paul, quickly; "it can't be, Sylvia."

"But it is," she insisted, "I'm sure." And from this firm opinion he could not move her. Finally, when he departed, he took the books with him, and promised to read the novel again. Perhaps something might come of Sylvia's fancy.

The lovers spent the rest of the time in talking over their future, and Beecot looked hopefully towards making sufficient money to offer Sylvia a home. He also described to her how he had met Mrs. Krill and related what she was prepared to do. "Do you think we should accept the five hundred a year, Paul," said Sylvia, doubtfully; "it would put everything right, and so long as I am with you I don't care where we live."

"If you leave the decision to me, darling," said Paul, "I think it will be best to refuse this offer. Something is wrong, or Mrs. Krill would not be so anxious to get you out of the country."

"Oh, Paul, do you think she knows anything about the murder?"

"No, dear. I don't think that. Mrs. Krill is far too clever a woman to put her neck in danger. But there may be a chance of her daughter losing the money. Sylvia," he asked, "you saw Maud Krill. How old would you take her to be?"

"Oh, quite old, Paul," said Sylvia, decisively; "she dresses well and paints her face; but she's forty."

"Oh, Sylvia, not so much as that."

"Well, then, thirty and over," insisted Sylvia. "Debby thinks the same as I do."

"Don't you think Debby's zeal may lead her to exaggerate?"

"It doesn't lead me to exaggerate," said Sylvia, slightly offended; "and I have eyes in my head as well as Debby. That girl, or that woman, I should say, is over thirty, Paul."

"In that case," said Beecot, his color rising, "I fancy I see the reason of Mrs. Krill's desire to get you out of the country. Maud," he added deliberately, "may not be your father's daughter after all."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well. According to the marriage certificate, and to Mrs. Krill's admission, she was married to your father thirty years ago. If Maud is over thirty--can't you see, Sylvia?"

"Yes." Sylvia colored. "You mean she may be the same as I am?"

"Not exactly, dear," replied Paul, soothing her. "I mean that Mrs. Krill may have been a widow and have had her little girl with her when she married your father. In that case Maud certainly could not get the money, and so Mrs. Krill wants you to leave England."

"In case I would get it," said Sylvia, excited.

Paul looked puzzled and rather sad. "I can't say, dear," he replied doubtfully. "Certainly the money is left to 'my daughter,' but as the marriage with your mother unfortunately is void, I fear you would not inherit. However," he said grimly, "there would be a certain pleasure in taking the money from that woman. Maud is a mere puppet in her hands,"

he laughed. "And then Hay would marry a poor bride," he ended maliciously.

Sylvia could not quite understand all this, and gave up trying to solve the problem with a pretty gesture of indifference. "What will you do, Paul?" she asked.

"I'll see Hurd and tell him what you and Deborah say about the age of Maud Krill."

"Why not see Mr. Pash?"

"Because he is a traitor," replied Beecot, darkly, "and, knowing he has lost your confidence, he will certainly try and give Maud Krill possession of the money. No, I'll speak to Hurd, who is my friend and yours. He is clever and will be able to unravel this tangle."

"Tell him about the goor also, Paul."

"Yes. I'll explain everything I can, and then I'll get him to go down to Christchurch and see what happened there, when your father lived with Maud's mother."

"What did happen, Paul?" asked Sylvia, anxiously.

"Nothing," he replied with an a.s.sumption of carelessness, for he did not want to tell the girl about the fate of Lady Rachel Sandal, "but we may find in your father's past life what led to his murder."

"Do you think Mrs. Krill had anything to do with it?"

"My own, you asked that question before. No, I don't. Still, one never knows. I should think Mrs. Krill is a dangerous woman, although I fancy, too clever to risk being hanged. However, Hurd can find out if she was in town on the night your father was killed."

"That was on the sixth of July," said Sylvia.

"Yes. And he was murdered at twelve."

"After twelve," said Sylvia. "I heard the policeman on his beat at a quarter-past, and then I came down. Poor father was strangled before our very eyes," she said, shuddering.

"Hush, dear. Don't speak of it," 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 G.o.ddess 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 opposite side of the fireplace and prepared to talk. Paul heaped on coals with a lavish hand, little as he could afford this extravagance, as the night was cold and he guessed that Hurd had much to say. So, on the whole, they had a very comfortable and interesting conversation.