Sylvia looked amazed, Deborah uttered her usual ejaculation, "Lor'!" but Paul's expression did not change. He considered that this was all of a piece with the murder and the mystery of the opal brooch. Undoubtedly Mr. Lemuel Krill, _alias_ Aaron Norman, must have had good reason to change his name and to exhibit terror at the sight of the brooch. And the reason he dreaded, whatever it might be, had been the cause of his mysterious and tragic death. But Paul said nothing of these thoughts and there was silence for a few minutes. "Lor,'" said Deborah again, "and I never knew. Do he put that name to that, mister?" she asked, pointing to the will. "Yes! It is signed Lemuel Krill," said Pash. "I wonder you didn't notice it at the moment." "Why, bless you, Mr. Pash, there weren't no moment," said Deborah, her hands on her hips as usual. "Master made that there will only a short time before he was killed." Pash nodded. "I note the date," said he, "all in order--quite." "Master," went on Deborah, looking at Paul, "never got over that there fainting fit you gave him with the serping brooch. And he writes out that will, and tells Bart and me to put our names to it. But he covered up his own name with a bit of red blotting-paper. I never thought but that he hadn't put Aaron Norman, which was his name." "It was not his name," said Pash. "His real name I have told you, and for years I have known the truth." "Do you know why he changed his name?" asked Beecot, quickly. "No, sir, I don't. And if I did, I don't know if it would be legal etiquette to reveal the reason to a stranger." "He's not a stranger," cried Sylvia, annoyed. "Well, then, to a young gentleman whom I have only seen twice. Why do you ask, Mr. Beecot?" "I was wondering if the change of name had anything to do with the murder," said Paul, hesitating. "How could it," said Pash, testily, "when the man never expected to be murdered?" "Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash, but you're all out," said Deborah. "Master did expect to have his throat cut, or his 'ead knocked orf, or his inside removed--" "Deborah," cried Paul, hastily, "you are making Sylvia nervous." "Don't you worrit, pretty," said the maiden, "it's only silly old Debby's way. But master, your par as was, my pretty, went to church and prayed awful against folk as he never named, to say nothin' of lookin' over the left shoulder blade and sleepin' in the cellar bolted and barred, and always with his eye on the ground sad like. Old Baileys and police-courts was in his mind, say what you like."