"Something about Hay that will astonish you and make you think he has something to do with the crime. Meanwhile, learn all you can from Mrs. Krill." "If I meet her," said Paul, with a shrug. Undoubtedly Hurd knew more than he was prepared to admit, and not even to Paul, staunch as he knew him to be, would he speak confidentially. When the time came the detective would speak out. At present he held his tongue and moved in clouds like a Homeric deity. But his eyes were on all those connected with the late Aaron Norman, indirectly or directly, although each and every one of them were unaware of the scrutiny. Paul had no scruples in learning all he could from Mrs. Krill. He did not think that she had killed her husband, and probably might be ignorant of the person or persons who had slain the poor wretch in so cruel a manner. But the motive of the crime was to be found in Norman's past, and Mrs. Krill knew all about this. Therefore, Paul was very pleased when he found that Mrs. Krill and her daughter were the guests at the little dinner. Hay's rooms were large and luxuriously furnished. In effect, he occupied a small flat in the house of an ex-butler, and had furnished the place himself in a Sybarite fashion. The ex-butler and his wife and servants looked after Hay, and in addition, that languid gentleman possessed a slim valet, with a sly face, who looked as though he knew more than was good for him. Indeed, the whole atmosphere of the rooms was shady and fast, and Paul, simple young fellow as he was, felt the bad influence the moment he stepped into the tiny drawing-room. This was furnished daintily and with great taste in color and furnishing. It was more like a woman's room, and Mr. Hay had spared no cost in making it pleasing to the eye and comfortable to the body. The prevailing tone was pale yellow, and the electric light suffused itself through lemon-shaded globes. The Louis Quinze furniture was upholstered in primrose, and there were many Persian praying mats and Eastern draperies about the place. Water-color pictures decked the walls, and numerous mirrors reflected the dainty, pretty apartment. A brisk fire was burning, although the evening was not cold, and everything looked delightfully pleasant. Paul could not help contrasting all this luxury and taste with his bare garret. But with Sylvia's love to warm his heart, he would not have changed places with Grexon Hay for all his splendor.