"Pardon me," said the woman, swiftly, "but I am not. The name of Krill has hardly been noticed. The public know that Aaron Norman was murdered. No one talks of Lemuel Krill, or thinks that I am the widow of the murdered man. Possibly I may come across some people who will connect the two names, and look askance at me, but the majority of people--such as Lord George there," she pointed with her fan, "do not think of me in the way you say. As he did, they will think they remember the name--" "Lord George did not say that to you," said Paul, swiftly. "No. But he did to Mr. Hay, who told me," rejoined Mrs. Krill, quite as swiftly. "To-night?" asked Beecot, remembering that Hay had not spoken privately to Mrs. Krill since they came in from the dining-room. "Oh, no--on another occasion. Lord George has several times said that he has a faint recollection of my name. Possibly the connection between me and the murder may occur to his mind, but he is really so very stupid that I hope he will forget all about the matter." "I wonder you don't change your name," said Paul, looking at her. "Certainly not, unless public opinion forces me to change it," she said defiantly. "My life has always been perfectly open and above board, not like that of my husband." "Why did he change his name?" asked Beecot, eagerly--too eagerly, in fact, for she drew back. "Why do you ask?" she inquired coldly. Paul shrugged his shoulders. "An idle question, Mrs. Krill. I have no wish to force your confidence." "There is no forcing in the matter," responded the woman. "I have taken quite a fancy to you, Mr. Beecot, and you shall know what I do." "Pray do not tell me if you would rather not." "But I would rather," said Mrs. Krill, bluntly; "it will prevent your misconception of anything you may hear about us. My husband's real name was Lemuel Krill, and he married me thirty years ago. I will be frank with you and admit that neither of us were gentlefolks. We kept a public-house on the outskirts of Christchurch in Hants, called 'The Red Pig.'" She looked anxiously at him as she spoke. "A strange name." "Have you never heard of it before?" "No. Had I heard the name it would have remained in my memory, from its oddity." Paul might have been mistaken, but Mrs. Krill certainly seemed relieved. Yet if she had anything to conceal in connection with "The Red Pig," why should she have mentioned the name. "It is not a first-class hotel," she went on smoothly, and again with her false smile. "We had only farm laborers and such like as customers. But the custom was good, and we did very well. Then my husband took to drink."