The Opal Serpent Read online

  CHAPTER XVIII

  AT CHRISTCHURCH, HANTS

  The next afternoon Hurd was on his way to the former abode of Mrs.Krill. During the journey he glanced at his notes and arranged whatinquiries he should make. It struck him as strange that Mrs. Krillshould have told Paul of her association with "The Red Pig," consideringthe reputation of the place, in connection with Lady Rachel Sandal'smurder--or suicide. It would have been better had Mrs. Krill changed hername by letters patent and have started a new life on her dead husband'smoney. The detective could not understand the reason for thisunnecessary frankness.

  Before leaving town he took the precaution to call on Pash and note downa description of the sailor--presumably Jessop--who had tried to obtainpossession of the jewels on the morning after the crime had beencommitted in Gwynne Street. He learned that the man (who had given noname) was tall and stout, with the flushed skin of a habitual drinker ofstrong waters, and reddish hair mixed with grey. He also had a scarrunning from his right temple to his mouth, and although this was partlyconcealed by a beard, yet it was distinctly visible. The man was dressedin blue serge, carried his large hands slightly clenched, and rolled inhis gait. Hurd noted these things down, and had little doubt but what hewould recognize the man if he came across him. Connecting him with theindividual who had pawned the brooch at Stowley, Hurd fancied he mightbe Jessop. He resolved to look for him in Southampton, as, judging fromthe evidence given at the inquest on Lady Rachel's remains, that was theport of call for the mariner.

  At the station immediately before that of Christchurch, Hurd glanced ata telegram which he produced out of his pocket-book, and then leaned outof the carriage window. A pretty, daintily-dressed little woman saw himand at once entered the carriage with a gay laugh. She was Miss AuroraQian, and Paul would have been considerably astonished had he overheardher conversation with Mr. Hurd. But the detective and the actress hadthe compartment to themselves, and talked freely.

  "It's the safest place to talk in," explained Miss Qian, producing a bagof chocolate and eating during the conversation. "Of course, I told thelandlady at 'The Red Pig' that my brother was coming down, so we can gothere right enough. But walls have ears. I don't think railway carriageshave, though, and we have much to say, Billy."

  "Have you found out anything, Aurora?" asked Hurd.

  Miss Qian nodded. "A great deal considering I have been in the placeonly twenty-four hours. It's a good thing I'm out of an engagement,Billy, or I shouldn't have time to leave London or to look after thatman Hay. I _am_ a good sister."

  "Well, you are. But there's money in the business also. If I can getthat thousand pounds, you'll have your share."

  "I know you'll treat me straight, Billy," said the actress, with muchsatisfaction. "I always say that my brother is as square a man as Iknow."

  "The deuce you do," said Hurd, rather vexed. "I hope you don't gotelling everyone that I am your brother, Aurora?"

  "Only one or two special friends--not Hay, you may be sure. Nor doesthat nice Mr. Beecot know that we are brother and sister."

  "You'd best keep it dark, and say nothing, Aurora. It's just as well youleft the private detective business and went on the stage. You talk toomuch."

  "Oh, no, I don't," retorted Miss Qian, eating a sweet. "Don't be nasty,Billy, or I'll tell you nothing."

  Her brother shrugged his shoulders. He was very fond of Aurora, but hesaw her many faults, and she certainly had too long a tongue for oneengaged in private matters. "What about Hay?" he asked.

  Aurora raised her eyes. "I thought you wanted to know of my discoveriesat Christchurch," she said, pouting.

  "Well, I do. But Hay?--"

  "Oh, he's all right. He's going to marry Miss Krill and her money, andis getting cash together by fleecing young Sandal. That fool _will_play, and keeps losing his money, although I've warned him."

  "Then don't warn him. I wish to catch Hay red-handed."

  "Ah," Miss Qian nodded, "you may catch him red-handed in a worse matterthan gambling."

  "Aurora, you don't mean to say he has anything to do with the murder ofAaron Norman?"

  "Well, I don't go so far as to say that, Billy. But when I got settledin the private sitting-room of 'The Red Pig' on the plea that I had comedown for a change of air, and expected my brother--"

  "Which you do without any lies."

  "Yes, that's all right, Billy," she said impatiently. "Well, the firstthing I clapped eyes on was a portrait of Grexon Hay in a silver frameon the mantelpiece."

  "Hum," said Hurd, nursing his chin in his hand, "he may have given thatto Miss Krill during the engagement."

  "I daresay," rejoined the actress, tartly, "for he has been engaged formany a long day--say two years."

  "I thought so," said Hurd, triumphantly. "I always fancied the meetingat Pash's office was a got-up thing."

  "What made you think so?"

  "Because, when disguised as the Count de la Tour, I overheard Hayaddress Miss Krill as Maud, and it was the first time she and her mothercame to his rooms. Sandal was there, and gambling went on as usual. Ilost money myself," said Hurd, with a grimace, "in order to make Haythink I was another pigeon to pluck. But the mention of the Christianname on so short an acquaintance showed me that Hay and Miss Krill hadmet 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 aninscription on the portrait--'From Grexon to Maud with muchlove'--sweet, isn't it? when you think what an icicle the man is. Thereis also a date--two years ago the photograph was given. I admired thephotograph 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 womanwho is devoted to Miss Norman and who nursed her since she was a baby iscalled Deborah Junk."

  "I know that," said Aurora, "I'm not quite a fool, Billy. I mentionedDeborah Junk, whom I saw at the inquest on Norman's body. The landladysaid she was her sister, but she had not heard of her for ages. And thisMatilda is just like Deborah in looks--a large Dutch doll with beadyeyes and a badly painted face."

  "Well, that's a point," said Hurd, making a note. "What did she sayabout the photograph?"

  "Oh, that it was one of Mr. Hay who was Miss Krill's young man, and thatthey had been engaged for two years--"

  "Matilda seems to be a chatterbox."

  "She is. I got a lot out of her."

  "Then there can be nothing to conceal on the part of Mrs. Krill?"

  "Well," said Aurora, throwing the empty sweetmeat bag out of the windowand brushing her lap, "so far as I can discover, Mrs. Krill is aperfectly respectable person, and has lived for thirty years as thelandlady of 'The Red Pig.' Matilda acknowledged that her mistress hadinherited the money of Lemuel Krill, and Matilda knows all about themurder."

  "Matilda is wrong," said the detective, dryly; "Miss Krill gets themoney."

  Aurora smiled. "From what I heard, Miss Krill has to do what her mothertells her. She's nobody and her mother is all the world. Matildaconfessed that her mistress had behaved very well to her. When the moneycame, she gave up 'The Red Pig' to Matilda Junk, who is now thelandlady."

  "With a proviso she should hold her tongue."

  "No. Mrs. Krill, so far as I can learn, has nothing to conceal. Even ifit becomes known in London that she was the landlady of a small pub, Idon't think it will matter."

  "Did you ask questions about Lady Rachel's murder?"

  "No. You gave me only a hint when you sent me down. I didn't like toventure on ground I wasn't sure of. I'm more cautious than you."

  "Well, I'll tell you everything now," said Hurd, and gave a rapid sketchof what he had learned from the newspapers and the Scotland Yard papersrelative to the Sandal affair. Aurora nodded.

  "But Matilda Junk said nothing of that. She merely stated that Mr.Lemuel Krill had gone to London over twenty years ago, and that his wifeknew nothing of him until she saw th
e hand-bills."

  "Hum," said Hurd again, as the train slowed down to the Christchurchstation, "it seems all fair and above board. What about Jessop?"

  "Knowing so little of the Lady Rachel case, I didn't inquire about him,"said Aurora. "I've told you everything."

  "Anyone else stopping at the inn?"

  "No. And it's not a bad little place after all. The rooms are clean andthe food good and the charges low. I'd rather stop at 'The Red Pig,'small as it is, than at the big hotel. The curries--oh, they aredelightfully hot!" Miss Qian screwed her small face into a smile ofecstasy. "But, then, a native makes them."

  Hurd started. "Curries--a native?"

  "Yes--a man called Hokar."

  "Aurora, that's the man who left the sugar on the counter of Norman'sshop. I forgot you don't know about that," and Hurd rapidly told her ofthe episode.

  "It's strange," said Miss Qian, nodding with a faraway look. "It wouldseem that Mrs. Krill knew of the whereabouts of her husband before shesaw the hand-bills."

  "And possibly about the murder also," said Hurd.

  Brother and sister looked at one another; the case was becoming more andmore interesting. Mrs. Krill evidently knew more than she chose toadmit. But at this moment the train stopped, and they got out. Hurd tookhis handbag and walked into the town with his pretty sister trippingbeside him. She gave him an additional piece of information before theyarrived at "The Red Pig." "This Hokar is not at all popular," she said;"they say he eats cats and dogs. Yes. I've talked to several old women,and they say they lost their animals. One cat was found strangled in theyard, and--"

  "Strangled!" interrupted the detective. "Hum, and the man's an Indian,possibly a Thug."

  "What's a Thug?" asked Aurora, staring.

  Hurd explained. "I ran through the book lent by Beecot last night," headded, "and was so interested I sat up till dawn--"

  "You do look chippy," said his sister, candidly, "but from what you say,there are no Thugs living."

  "No, the author says so. Still, it's queer, this strangling, and thenthe cruel way in which the man was murdered. Just what a Hindoo woulddo. The sugar too--"

  "Oh, nonsense! Hokar left the sugar by mistake. If he had intended tomurder Norman he wouldn't have given himself away."

  "I expect he never thought anyone would guess he was a Thug. The novelis not one usually read nowadays. It was the merest chance that MissNorman came across it and told Beecot."

  "I don't believe in such coincidences," said Aurora, dryly; for in spiteof her fluffy, kittenish looks, she was a very practical person. "Buthere we are at 'The Red Pig.' Nice and comfy, isn't it?"

  The inn was certainly very pretty. It stood on the very verge of thetown, and beyond stretched fields and hedgerows. The house itself was awhite-washed, thatched, rustic cottage, with a badly painted sign of alarge red sow. Outside were benches, where topers sat, and the windowswere delightfully old-fashioned, diamond-paned casements. Quite aDickens inn of the old coaching days was "The Red Pig."

  But Hurd gave the pretty, quaint hostel only a passing glance. He wasstaring at a woman who stood in the doorway shading her eyes with thepalm of her hand from the setting sun. In her the detective saw theimage of Deborah Junk, now Tawsey. She was of the same gigantic build,with the same ruddy face, sharp, black eyes and boisterous manner. Butshe had not the kindly look of Deborah, and of the two sisters Hurdpreferred the one he already knew.

  "This is my brother, Miss Junk," said Aurora, marching up to the door;"he will only stay until to-morrow."

  "You're welcome, sir," said Matilda in a loud and hearty voice, whichreminded the detective more than ever of her sister. "Will you pleasewalk in and 'ave some tea?"

  Hurd nodded and repaired to the tiny sitting-room, where he saw thephotograph of Hay on the mantelpiece. Aurora, at a hint from herbrother, went to her bedroom to change her dress, and Hurd spoke toMatilda, when she brought in the tray. "I know your sister," said he.

  Miss Junk nearly dropped the tray. "Lor', now, only think! Why, we ain'twrote to one another for ten years. And I left London eleven years back.And how is she, sir? and where is she?"

  "She is well; she has a laundry in Jubileetown near London, and she ismarried to a fellow called Bart Tawsey."

  "Married!" cried Matilda, setting down the tray and putting her armsakimbo, just like Deborah, "lor', and me still single. But now I've gotthis 'ouse, and a bit put by, I'll think of gittin' a 'usband. I ain'ta-goin' to let Debby crow over me."

  "Your sister was in the service of Mr. Norman before she took up thelaundry," observed Hurd, pouring out a cup of tea.

  "Was she, now? And why did she leave?"

  The name of Norman apparently was unknown to Matilda, so Hurd tried theeffect of another bombshell. "Her master was murdered under the name ofLemuel Krill."

  "Mercy," Matilda dropped into a chair, with a thud which shook the room;"why, that's my ladies' husband and father."

  "What ladies?" asked Hurd, pretending ignorance.

  "My ladies, Mrs. Krill and Miss Maud. They had this 'ouse, and kep' itfor years respectable. I worked for 'em ten, and when my ladies comes infor a forting, for a forting there is, they gave me the goodwill of 'TheRed Pig.' To think of Debby being the servant of poor Mr. Krill as waskilled. Who killed 'im?"

  "Doesn't your mistress know?"

  "She," cried Matilda, indignantly, and bouncing up. "Why, she was alwaysa-lookin' for him, not as she loved him over much. And as he is dead,sir, it's no more as what he oughter be, seeing as he killed a poor ladyin this very 'ouse. You'll sleep in 'er room to-night," added Matilda,as if that was a pleasure. "Strangled, she was."

  "I think I heard of that. But Lady Rachel Sandal committed suicide."

  Matilda rubbed her nose, after the Deborah fashion. "Well, sir, myladies were never sure which it was, and, of course, it was before mytime considerable, being more nor twenty year back. But the man as didit is dead, and lef' my ladies his money, as he oughter. An' Miss Maud'sa-goin' to marry a real gent"--Matilda glanced at the photograph--"Iallays said he wos a gent, bein' so 'aughty like, and wearing eveningdress at meals, late."

  "Was he ever down here, this gentleman?"

  "He's been comin' and goin' fur months, and Miss Maud loves 'imsomethin' cruel. But they'll marry now an' be 'appy."

  "I suppose your ladies sometimes went to see this gent in town?"

  "Meanin' Mr. Hay," said Matilda, artlessly. "Well, sir, they did, one ata time and then together. Missis would go and miss would foller, an'miss an' missus together would take their joy of the Towers an' shopsand Madame Tusord's and sich like, Mr. Hay allays lookin' after 'em."

  "Did they ever visit Mr. Hay in July?"

  "No, they didn't," snapped Matilda, with a change of tone which did notescape Hurd; "and I don't know, sir, why you arsk them questions."

  "My good woman, I ask no questions. If I do, you need not reply. Let uschange the subject. My sister tells me you make good curries in thishotel."

  "Hokar do, me bein' but a plain cook."

  "Oh! He's an Indian?"

  "Yes, he is, sir. A pore Indian castaway as missus took up with when hecome here drenched with rain and weary. Ah, missus was allays good andkind and Christian-like."

  Privately Hurd thought this description did not apply very well to thelady in question, but he was careful not to arouse Matilda's suspicionsagain by contradicting her. He pretended to joke. "I wonder you don'tmarry this Indian, and keep him here always to make the curries I haveheard of."

  "Me marry a black!" cried Matilda, tossing her rough head. "Well, sir, Inever," her breath failed her, "an' him goin' about the country."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "What I say," said Miss Junk; "he'll stop here, Christian-like, fordays, and then go orf to sell things as a 'awker. My par was a 'awker,sir, but a white, white man of the finest."

  Hurd was about to ask another question when a husky voice was heardsinging somewhat out of tune. "What's that?" asked Hurd, irritably. />
  "Lor', sir, wot nervses you 'ave. 'Tis only Cap'n Jessop makin' hisself'appy-like."

  "Captain Jessop," Hurd laughed. He had run down his man at last.