"Oh, no," said Maud, smiling smoothly. "This is Mr. Hurd, the detective, who is searching for the assassin of my dear father."
"Lor,'" said Matilda, growing red. "And he's the man as came to ask questions at the 'otel. I do call it bold of you, Mister Policeman."
"Well," said Hurd, swinging his hat lazily, and looking from one to the other, quite taking in the situation, "you answered very few of my questions, so that is all right."
"Why did you go down to Christchurch?" asked Miss Krill.
"If I have to find out who killed your father," said Hurd, with an accent on the word "father," "it was necessary that I should learn about his past life as Lemuel Krill."
"My mother could have informed you, sir."
"I guessed as much, and, as Miss Junk would not speak, I have come to question Mrs. Krill. Ah, here she is." Hurd rose and bowed. "I am glad to see you, madam."
Mrs. Krill, who was as plump and smiling and smooth-faced and severe as ever, bowed and rubbed her white hands together. At a sign from Maud, Matilda gathered up the fancy work and went out of the room with many backward glances. These were mostly indignant, for she was angry at Hurd's deception. "Do you wish my daughter to stay?" asked Mrs. Krill, smoothly.
"That is as she pleases," said the detective.