"Hum," said Hurd, nursing his chin in his hand, "he may have given that to Miss Krill during the engagement."
"I daresay," rejoined the actress, tartly, "for he has been engaged for many a long day—say two years."
"I thought so," said Hurd, triumphantly. "I always fancied the meeting at Pash's office was a got-up thing."
"What made you think so?"
"Because, when disguised as the Count de la Tour, I overheard Hay address Miss Krill as Maud, and it was the first time she and her mother came to his rooms. Sandal was there, and gambling went on as usual. I lost money myself," said Hurd, with a grimace, "in order to make Hay think I was another pigeon to pluck. But the mention of the Christian name on so short an acquaintance showed me that Hay and Miss Krill had met before. I expect the meeting at Pash's office was a got-up game."
"You said that before, Billy. How you repeat yourself! Yes. There's an inscription on the portrait—'From Grexon to Maud with much love'—sweet, isn't it? when you think what an icicle the man is. There is also a date—two years ago the photograph was given. I admired the photograph and asked the landlady who was the swell."
"What's the landlady's name?"
"Matilda Junk."
Hurd almost jumped from his seat. "That's queer," he said, "the woman who is devoted to Miss Norman and who nursed her since she was a baby is called Deborah Junk."
"I know that," said Aurora, "I'm not quite a fool, Billy. I mentioned Deborah Junk, whom I saw at the inquest on Norman's body. The landlady said she was her sister, but she had not heard of her for ages. And this Matilda is just like Deborah in looks—a large Dutch doll with beady eyes and a badly painted face."