"Mr. Pash. He told me all about the matter, but not the reason why my husband wanted the brooch."
"Pash doesn't know," said Beecot, "nor do I. Your husband fainted when I first showed him the brooch, but I don't know why. He said nothing."
Again Mrs. Krill's face in spite of her care showed a sense of relief at his ignorance. "But I must get back to my story," she said, in a hard tone, "we have to leave soon. I ran away with Lemuel who was then travelling with jewellery. He knew a good deal about jewellery, you know, which he turned to account in his pawnbroking."
"Yes, and amassed a fortune, thereby."
"I should never have credited him with so much sense," said Mrs. Krill, contemptuously. "While at Christchurch he was nothing but a drunkard, whining when sober, and a furious beast when drunk. I managed all the house, and looked after my little daughter. Lemuel led me a dog's life, and we quarrelled incessantly. At length, when Maud was old enough to be my companion, Lemuel ran away. I kept on 'The Red Pig,' and waited for him to return. But he never came back, and for over twenty years I heard nothing of him till I saw the hand-bills and his portrait, and heard of his death. Then I came to see Mr. Pash, and the rest you know."
"But why did he run away?" asked Paul.
"I suppose he grew weary of the life and the way I detested him," was her reply. "I don't wonder he ran away. But there, I have told you all, so make what you can of it. Tell Miss Norman of my offer, and make her see the wisdom of accepting it. And now"—she rose, and held out her hand—"I must run away. You will call and see us? Mr. Hay will give you the address."
"What's that," said Hay, leaving the card-table, "does Beecot want your address? Certainly." He went to a table and scribbled on a card. "There you are. Hunter Street, Kensington, No. 32A. Do come, Beecot. I hope soon to call on your services to be my best man," and he cast a coldly loving look on Maud, who simply smiled as usual.
By this time the card-party had broken up. Maud had lost a few pounds, and Lord George a great deal. But Miss Qian and Hay had won.
"What luck," groaned the young lord. "Everything seems to go wrong with me."