"Oh, that it was one of Mr. Hay who was Miss Krill's young man, and that they 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 window and brushing her lap, "so far as I can discover, Mrs. Krill is a perfectly respectable person, and has lived for thirty years as the landlady of 'The Red Pig.' Matilda acknowledged that her mistress had inherited the money of Lemuel Krill, and Matilda knows all about the murder." "Matilda is wrong," said the detective, dryly; "Miss Krill gets the money." Aurora smiled. "From what I heard, Miss Krill has to do what her mother tells her. She's nobody and her mother is all the world. Matilda confessed that her mistress had behaved very well to her. When the money came, she gave up 'The Red Pig' to Matilda Junk, who is now the landlady." "With a proviso she should hold her tongue." "No. Mrs. Krill, so far as I can learn, has nothing to conceal. Even if it becomes known in London that she was the landlady of a small pub, I don'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 to venture 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 sketch of what he had learned from the newspapers and the Scotland Yard papers relative 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 wife knew nothing of him until she saw the hand-bills." "Hum," said Hurd again, as the train slowed down to the Christchurch station, "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 and the 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 are delightfully hot!" Miss Qian screwed her small face into a smile of ecstasy. "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's shop. I forgot you don't know about that," and Hurd rapidly told her of the episode. "It's strange," said Miss Qian, nodding with a faraway look. "It would seem that Mrs. Krill knew of the whereabouts of her husband before she saw the hand-bills." "And possibly about the murder also," said Hurd.