"I expect he got drunk every night," said Paul, thinking. "When he locked up Sylvia and Deborah in the upper room--I can understand now why he did so--he could go to the cellar and take possession of the shop key left on the nail by Bart. Then, free from all intrusion, he could drink till reeling. Not that I think he ever did reel," went on Beecot, mindful of what Mrs. Krill had said; "he could stand a lot, and I expect the brandy only converted him into a demon." "And a clever business man," said Hurd. "You know Aaron Norman was not clever over the books. Bart sold those, but from all accounts he was a Shylock when dealing, after seven o'clock, in the pawnbroking way. I understand now. Sober, he was a timid fool; drunk, he was a bold, clever villain." "My poor Sylvia, what a father," sighed Paul; "but this crime--" "I'll tell you about it. Lemuel Krill and his wife kept 'The Red Pig' at Christchurch, a little public house it is, on the outskirts of the town, frequented by farm-laborers and such-like. The business was pretty good, but the couple didn't look to making their fortune. Mrs. Krill was a farmer's daughter." "A Buckinghamshire farmer," said Paul. "How do you know? oh!"--on receiving information--"Mrs. Krill told you so? Well, considering the murder of Lady Rachel, she would have done better to hold her tongue and have commenced life with her dead husband's money under a new name. She's a clever woman, too," mused Hurd, "I can't understand her being so unnecessarily frank." "Never mind, go on," said Paul, impatiently. Hurd returned to his seat and re-filled his pipe. "Well, then," he continued, "Krill got drunk and gave his wife great trouble. Sometimes he thrashed her and blacked her eyes, and he treated their daughter badly too." "How old was the daughter?" "I can't say. Why do you ask?" "I'll tell you later. Go on, please." "Well, then, Mrs. Krill always revenged herself on her husband when he was sober and timid, so the couple were evenly matched. Krill was master when drunk, and his wife mistress when he was sober. A kind of see-saw sort of life they must have led." "Where does Lady Rachel come in?" "What an impatient chap you are," remonstrated Hurd, in a friendly tone. "I'm coming to that now. Lady Rachel quarrelled with her father over some young artist she wanted to marry. He would not allow the lover to come to the Hall, so Lady Rachel said she would kill herself rather than give him up." "And she did," said Paul, thinking of the suicide theory. "There you go again. How am I to tell you all when you interrupt." "I beg your pardon. I won't do so again."