"Ah, but you see in my profession I have mixed with blackguards, and that has lowered my moral tone. It's refreshing to meet a straight, honorable man such as you are, Mr. Beecot. I liked you when first I set eyes on you, and determined to help you to discover the assassin of Aaron Norman--" "Lemuel Krill you mean." "I prefer to call him by the name we both know best," said Hurd, "but as I was saying, I promised to help you to find out who killed the man; now I'll help you to get back the money." Paul sat down and stared. "What do you mean?" he asked. "The money can't be got back. I asked a legal friend of mine, and put the case to him, since that monkey of a Pash has thrown us over. My friend said that as no name was mentioned in the will, Maud Krill would undoubtedly inherit the money. Besides, I learn that the certificate of marriage is all right. Mrs. Krill undoubtedly married Aaron Norman under his rightful name thirty years ago." "Oh, yes, that's all right," said Hurd, producing a dainty silver cigarette case, which was part of his "get-up." "Mrs. Krill is the widow of the murdered man, and the silly way in which the will has been made gives the five thousand a year to her daughter, whom Mrs. Krill has under her thumb. It's all right as I say. But I shouldn't be surprised to learn that there were circumstances in Aaron Norman's past life which led him to leave his wife, and which may lead Mrs. Krill into buying silence by giving Miss Norman half the income. You could live on two thousand odd a year, eh?" "Not obtained in that way," said Beecot, filling his pipe and passing a match to Hurd. "If the money comes legally to Sylvia, well and good; otherwise she will have nothing to do with it." Hurd looked round the bleak garret expressively and shrugged his shoulders again. "I think you are wrong, Mr. Beecot. You can't bring her here." "No. But I may make enough money to give her a better home." "Can I help you?" "I don't see how you can. I want to be an author." "Well," said Hurd, whose British speech was in strange contrast to his foreign appearance, "it's not a bad game to be an author if you get a good serial connection. Oh, don't look surprised. I know about newspapers and publishers as I know about most things. See here, Mr. Beecot, have you ever tried your hand at a detective story?" "No. I write on a higher level." "You won't write on a more paying level," replied Hurd, coolly. "I know a newspaper which will give you--if I recommend you, mind--one hundred pounds for a good detective yarn. You apply for it." "But I couldn't make up one of those plots--so intricate." "Pooh. It's a trick. You set your puppets in such and such a way and then mix them up. I'll give you the benefit of my experience as a 'tec, and with my plot and your own writing we'll be able to knock up a story for the paper I talk of. Then, with one hundred pounds you'll have a nest-egg to start with."