"Ah," said Paul, "that's the question. On whom?"
"On one or two or a baker's dozen," rejoined Hurd, calmly. "My chickens ain't hatched yet, so I don't count 'em. By the way, is your old school-fellow as friendly as ever?"
"Yes. Why, I can't understand; as he certainly will make no money out of me. He's giving a small dinner to-morrow night at his rooms and has asked me."
"You go," said the detective, emphatically; "and don't let on you have anything to do with me."
"See here, Hurd, I won't play the spy, if you mean that."
"I don't mean anything of the sort," replied Hurd, earnestly, "but if you do chance to meet Mrs. Krill at this dinner, and if she does chance to drop a few words about her past, you might let me know."
"Oh, I don't mind doing that," said Beecot, with relief. "I am as anxious to find out the truth about this murder as you are, if not more so. The truth, I take it, is to be found in Krill's past, before he took the name of Norman. Mrs. Krill will know of that past, and I'll try and learn all I can from her. But Hay has nothing to do with the crime, and I won't spy on him."
"Very good. Do what you like. But as to Hay, having nothing to do with the matter, I still think Hay stole that opal brooch from you when you were knocked down."
"In that case Hay must know who killed Norman," cried Paul, excited.