The Opal Serpent Part 38

"Did she go up and see him?"

"Well," said Jessop, slowly, "I don't rightly know what she did do, but she went up. I don't think she saw Krill at his shop, but she might have seen that Pash, who was Mr. Hay's lawyer, and a dirty little ape o'

sorts he is."

"Ha," said Hurd, to himself, "I thought Pash knew about the women beforehand. No wonder he stuck to them and gave poor Miss Norman the go-bye," he rubbed his hands and chuckled. "Well, we'll see what will come of the matter. Go on, Jessop."

"There ain't much more to tell," grumbled the captain. "I heard of this, and I wasn't meant to hear. But I thought I'd go up and see if I could get money out of Krill by saying I'd tell about the murder of Lady Rachel."

"You _are_ a scoundrel," said Hurd, coolly.

"I wos 'ard up," apologized the captain, "or I wouldn't, not me. I'm straight enough when in cash. So I went up in July."

"On the sixth of July?"

"If that was the day of the murder--yes. I went up and loafed round until it wos dark, and then slipped through that side pa.s.sage at eight o'clock to see Krill."

"How did you know where to find him?"

"Why, that Hay knew about the chap, and said as he did business in a cellar after eight. So Krill let me in, thinking, I 'spose, I wos a customer. He'd been drinking a little and was bold enough. But when I said, as I'd say, he'd killed Lady Rachel, he swore he was an innercent babe, and cried, the drink dyin' out of him."

"The same as it died out of you lately," said Hurd, smiling.

"Go slow," grunted the captain, in a surly tone. "I ain't afraid now, as I ain't done nothing. I said to Krill I'd say nothin' if he'd give me money. He wouldn't, but said he'd placed a lot of p.a.w.ned things with Pash, and I could have them. He then gave me a paper saying I was to have the things, and I went to Pash the next morning and had trouble.

But I heard by chance," again Jessop cast a strange look at Hurd, "that Krill had been murdered, so I didn't wait for the lawyer to come back, but cut down to Southampton and went on a short voyage. Then I come here and you nabbed me," and Jessop finished his rum. "That's all I know."

"Do you swear you left Aaron Norman alive?"

"Meaning Krill? I do. He wasn't no use to me dead, and I made him give me the jewels Pash had, d'ye see."

"But who warned you of the death when you were waiting?"

Jessop seemed unwilling to speak, but when pressed burst out, "'Twas a measily little kid with ragged clothes and a dirty face."

"Tray," said Hurd. "Hum! I wonder how he knew of the murder before it got into the papers?"

CHAPTER XXI

MISS QIAN'S PARTY

Hurd's sister was a clever young woman who in her time had played many parts. She began her career along with Hurd as a private detective, but when her brother joined the official service, Miss Hurd thought she would better her position by appearing on the stage, and, therefore, took the rather queer name of Aurora Qian. In her detective capacity she had often disguised herself when employed in obtaining evidence, and was remarkably talented in changing her face and figure. This art she used with great success in her new profession, and speedily made her mark as an impersonator of various characters out of novels. As Becky Sharp, as Little Dorrit, she was said to be inimitable, and after playing under several managements, she started, in the phrase of the profession, "a show of her own," and rapidly made money.

But her great faults amongst others were vanity and extravagance, so she was always in need of money, and when chance offered, through her brother, to make any, she was not averse to returning to the spy business. Thus it came about that she watched Mr. Grexon Hay for many a long day and night, and he never suspected the pretty, fluffy, kittenish Miss Qian was in reality an emissary of the law. Consequently, when Aurora asked him to a card-party at her rooms, Hay accepted readily enough, although he was not in need of money at the time.

Miss Qian occupied a tiny flat on the top of a huge pile of buildings in Kensington, and it was furnished in a gimcrack way, with more show than real value, and with more color than taste. Every room was of a different hue, with furniture and hangings to match. The drawing-room was pink, the dining-room green, her bedroom blue, the entrance hall yellow, and the extra sleeping apartment used by her companion, Miss Stably, was draped in purple. Some wit called the flat "the paint-box,"

and indeed so varied were its hues that it was not a bad t.i.tle to give it.

Like the Becky Sharp whom she impersonated with such success, Miss Qian possessed a sheep-dog, not because she needed one, being very well able to look after herself, but because it sounded and looked respectable.

Miss Stably, who filled this necessary office, was a dull old lady who dressed excessively badly, and devoted her life to knitting shawls. What she did with these when completed no one ever knew: but she was always to be found with two large wooden pins rapidly weaving the fabric for some unknown back. She talked very little, and when she did speak, it was to agree with her sharp little mistress. To make up for speaking little, she ate a great deal, and after dinner with her eternal knitting in her bony hands and a novel on her lap, was entirely happy. She was one of those neutral-tinted people, who seem not good enough for heaven and not sufficiently bad for the other place. Aurora often wondered what would become of Miss Stably when she departed this life, and left her knitting behind her. The old lady herself never gave the matter a thought, but lived a respectable life of knitting and eating and novel reading, with a regular visit to church on Sunday where she worshipped without much idea of what the service was about.

This sort of person exactly suited Miss Qian, who wanted a sheep-dog who could neither bark nor bite, and who could be silent. These qualifications were possessed by the old lady, and for some years she had trailed through a rather giddy world at Aurora's heels. In her own dull way she was fond of the young woman, but was far from suspecting that Aurora was connected in an underhand manner with the law. That knowledge would indeed have shaken Miss Stably to the soul, as she had a holy dread of the law, and always avoided the police-court column when she read the newspapers.

This was the old lady who sat in the pink drawing-room to play propriety for Miss Qian. Lord George Sandal was present, looking rather washed out, but as gentlemanly as ever. Hay, with his fixed eye-gla.s.s and eternally cold smile was there, and a third young man, who adored Miss Qian, thinking her to be merely an actress, simpered across the card-table at his G.o.ddess. The four were playing a game which involved the gaining and losing of much money, and they had been engaged for about an hour. Miss Stably having eaten a good dinner and commenced a new shawl was half dosing in the corner, and paying absolutely no attention to the players.

"It's a good thing we're hanging on our own hooks in this game," said Miss Qian, who smoked a dainty cigarette. "Were I your partner, Sandal,"

she always addressed her friends in this free-and-easy fashion, "I'd be losing money. What luck you have!"

"I never do seem to win," lamented Lord George. "Whenever I think I've got a good hand, the thing pans out wrong."

"Hay has got all the money," said the simpering admirer who answered to the name of Tempest. "He and you, Miss Qian, are the winners."

"I've made very little," she replied. "Hay's raking in the dollars hand over fist."

"Lucky in love, unlucky at cards," said Hay, who did not like his good fortune to be commented upon, for reasons which Miss Qian knew. "It's the reverse with me--I'm lucky at cards--"

"And lucky in love, too," interrupted Aurora, with a grimace, "seeing you're going to marry that Krill heiress--if she is an heiress."

"What do you mean?" asked Hay, who was dealing a new round.

"Go on with the game and don't ask questions," said Miss Qian, in a saucy manner. "Sandal, don't stare round, but keep your eye on the cards," and she winked stealthily at the young lord, while Hay was exchanging a word with Tempest. The young man, who had spoken privately to her immediately before the dinner, knew well what she meant. Had Hay been likewise "in the know," he would scarcely have done what he did do, and which Sandal saw him do in a few minutes.

Hay was rapidly dealing, and the cards were flying like leaves. A pile of gold stood beside Hay's elbow, and some silver near Tempest. The game commenced, and soon the players were engrossed, heedless of the patent snoring of Miss Stably, who, poor old thing, had succ.u.mbed to the lateness of the hour. Suddenly Lord George, who had been very vigilant, felt his foot touched under the table by Miss Qian. He rose at once and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the gold standing near Hay.

"What's that for?" demanded Hay, angrily.

"You're cheating," said Sandal, "and I don't play with you any more."

"That's a lie. I did not cheat."

"Yes, you did," cried Miss Qian, bending forward and seizing the cards; "we've been watching you. Tempest--"

"I saw it all right," said the other. "You took up that king--"

"And it's marked," said Aurora. "I believe Hay's got cards up his sleeve. Examine the cards."

Hay, very pale, but still keeping his countenance, tried to object, but the two young men seized and held him, while Miss Qian, with a dexterity acquired in detective circles, rapidly searched his pockets.

"Here's another pack," she cried, and shook an ace and two kings out of the detected swindler's sleeve, "and these cards--"

Sandal took one and went to the lamp. "Marked, by Jove!" he cried, but with a stronger oath; "here's a pin-p.r.i.c.k."

"You are mistaken," began Hay, quite pale.

"No," said Tempest, coolly, "we're not. Miss Qian told us you cheated, and we laid a trap for you. You've been trying this double card and marked card dodge several times this very evening."

"And he's tried it lots of times before," said Aurora, quickly. "I have been at several places where Hay scooped the pool, and it was all cheating."