"I won't listen," cried Sylvia, shuddering.
"Oh, yes, you will. I'll soon be done," went on her persecutor, cruelly. "Well, then, when I found Tray was like myself I determined to get the brooch and hurt Krill—hurt him as he hurt me," she cried vehemently. "Tray told me of the cellar and of the side passage. When my mother and Pash came out of the inner office and went to the door, I ran in and took the brooch. It was hidden under some papers and had escaped my mother's eye. But I searched till I got it. Then I made an appointment with Tray for eleven o'clock at the corner of Gwynne Street. I went back to Judson's hotel, and my mother and I went to the theatre. We had supper and retired to bed. That is, my mother did. We had left the theatre early, as my mother had a headache, and I had plenty of time. Mother fell asleep almost immediately. I went downstairs veiled, and in dark clothes. I slipped past the night porter and met Tray. We went by the side passage to the cellar. Thinking we were customers Krill let us in. Tray locked the door, and I threw myself on Krill. He had not been drinking much or I might not have mastered him. As it was, he was too terrified when he recognized me to struggle. In fact he fainted. With Tray's assistance I bound his hands behind his back, and then we enjoyed ourselves," she rubbed her hands together, looking more like a fiend than a woman.
Sylvia rose and staggered to the door. "No more—no more."
Maud pushed her back into her chair. "Stop where you are, you whimpering fool!" she snarled exultingly, "I have you safe." Then she continued quickly and with another glance at the clock, the long hand of which now pointed to a quarter to four, "with Tray's assistance I carried Krill up to the shop. Tray found an auger and bored a hole in the floor. Then I picked up a coil of copper wire, which was being used in packing things for Krill to make his escape. I took it up. We laid Krill's neck over the hole, and passed the wire round his neck and through the hole. Tray went down and tied a cross stick on the end of the wire, so that he could put his weight on it when we strangled—"
"Oh—great heaven," moaned Sylvia, stopping her ears.
Maud bent over her and pulled her hands away. "You shall hear you little beast," she snarled. "All the time Krill was sensible. He recovered his senses after he was bound. I prolonged his agony as much as possible. When Tray went down to see after the wire, I knelt beside Krill and told him that I knew I was not his daughter, that I intended to strangle him as I had strangled Lady Rachel. He shrieked with horror. That was the cry you heard, you cat, and which brought you downstairs. I never expected that," cried Maud, clapping her hands; "that was a treat for Krill I never intended. I stopped his crying any more for assistance by pinning his mouth together, as he had done mine over twenty years before. Then I sat beside him and taunted him. I heard the policeman pass, and the church clock strike the quarter. Then I heard footsteps, and guessed you were coming. It occurred to me to give you a treat by strangling the man before your eyes, and punish him more severely, since the brooch stopped him calling out—as it stopped me—me," she cried, striking her breast.
"Oh, how could you—how could—"
"You feeble thing," said Maud, contemptuously, and patting the girl's cheek, "you would not have done it I know. But I loved it—I loved it! That was living indeed. I went down to the cellar and fastened the door behind me. Tray was already pressing on the cross stick at the end of the wire, and laughed as he pressed. But I stopped him. I heard you and that woman enter the shop, and heard what you said. I prolonged Krill's agony, and then I pressed the wire down myself for such a time as I thought it would take to squeeze the life out of the beast. Then with Tray I locked the cellar door and left by the side passage. We dodged all the police and got into the Strand. I did not return to the hotel, but walked about with Tray all the night talking with—joy," cried Maud, clapping her hands, "with joy, do you hear. When it was eight I went to Judson's. The porter thought I had been out for an early walk. My mother—"
Here Maud broke off, for Sylvia, who was staring over her shoulder out of the window saw a form she knew well at the gate. "Paul—Paul," she shrieked, "come—come!"
Maud whipped the black silk handkerchief round the girl's neck. "You shall never get that money," she whispered cruelly, "you shall never tell anyone what I have told you. Now I'll show you how Hokar taught me," she jerked the handkerchief tight. But Sylvia got her hand under the cruel bandage and shrieked aloud in despair. At once she heard an answering shriek. It was the voice of Deborah.