"Because I met him at Pash's office several times when I was up. He ran errands for Pash before he became regularly employed. I saw that Tray was a devil, of whom I could make use. Oh, I know Tray, and I know also Hokar the Indian, who placed the sugar on the counter. He went to the shop to kill your father at my request. I wanted revenge and the money. Hokar was saved from starvation by my good mother. He came of the race of Thugs, if you know anything about them--" "Oh," moaned Sylvia, covering her face again. "Ah, you do. So much the better. It will save my explaining, as there is not much time left before your fool arrives. Hokar saw that I loved to hurt living creatures, and he taught me how to strangle cats and dogs and things. No one knew but Hokar that I killed them, and it was thought he ate them. But he didn't. I strangled them because I loved to see them suffer, and because I wished to learn how to strangle in the way the Thugs did." Sylvia was sick with fear and disgust. "For God's sake, don't tell me any more," she said imploringly. But she might as well have spoken to a granite rock. "You shall hear everything," said Maud, relentlessly. "I asked Hokar to strangle Krill. He went to the shop, but, when he saw that Krill had only one eye, he could not offer him to the goddess Bhowanee. He came to me at Judson's hotel, after he left the sugar on the counter, and told me the goddess would not accept the offering of a maimed man. I did not know what to do. I went with my mother to Pash's office, when she was arranging to prosecute Krill for bigamy. I met Tray there. He told me he had given the brooch to Pash, and that it was in the inner office. My mother was talking to Pash within and I chatted to Tray outside. I told Tray I wanted to kill Krill, and that if he would help me, I would give him a lot of money. He agreed, for he was a boy such as I was when a girl, fond of seeing things suffer. You can't wonder at it in me," went on Miss Krill, coolly; "my grandmother was hanged for poisoning my grandfather, and I expect I inherit the love of murder from her--" "I won't listen," cried Sylvia, shuddering.