MISS QIAN'S PARTY

Hurd's sister was a clever young woman who in her time had played many parts. She began her career along with Hurd as a private detective, but when her brother joined the official service, Miss Hurd thought she would better her position by appearing on the stage, and, therefore, took the rather queer name of Aurora Qian. In her detective capacity she had often disguised herself when employed in obtaining evidence, and was remarkably talented in changing her face and figure. This art she used with great success in her new profession, and speedily made her mark as an impersonator of various characters out of novels. As Becky Sharp, as Little Dorrit, she was said to be inimitable, and after playing under several managements, she started, in the phrase of the profession, "a show of her own," and rapidly made money.

But her great faults amongst others were vanity and extravagance, so she was always in need of money, and when chance offered, through her brother, to make any, she was not averse to returning to the spy business. Thus it came about that she watched Mr. Grexon Hay for many a long day and night, and he never suspected the pretty, fluffy, kittenish Miss Qian was in reality an emissary of the law. Consequently, when Aurora asked him to a card-party at her rooms, Hay accepted readily enough, although he was not in need of money at the time.

Miss Qian occupied a tiny flat on the top of a huge pile of buildings in Kensington, and it was furnished in a gimcrack way, with more show than real value, and with more color than taste. Every room was of a different hue, with furniture and hangings to match. The drawing-room was pink, the dining-room green, her bedroom blue, the entrance hall yellow, and the extra sleeping apartment used by her companion, Miss Stably, was draped in purple. Some wit called the flat "the paint-box," and indeed so varied were its hues that it was not a bad title to give it.

Like the Becky Sharp whom she impersonated with such success, Miss Qian possessed a sheep-dog, not because she needed one, being very well able to look after herself, but because it sounded and looked respectable. Miss Stably, who filled this necessary office, was a dull old lady who dressed excessively badly, and devoted her life to knitting shawls. What she did with these when completed no one ever knew: but she was always to be found with two large wooden pins rapidly weaving the fabric for some unknown back. She talked very little, and when she did speak, it was to agree with her sharp little mistress. To make up for speaking little, she ate a great deal, and after dinner with her eternal knitting in her bony hands and a novel on her lap, was entirely happy. She was one of those neutral-tinted people, who seem not good enough for heaven and not sufficiently bad for the other place. Aurora often wondered what would become of Miss Stably when she departed this life, and left her knitting behind her. The old lady herself never gave the matter a thought, but lived a respectable life of knitting and eating and novel reading, with a regular visit to church on Sunday where she worshipped without much idea of what the service was about.

This sort of person exactly suited Miss Qian, who wanted a sheep-dog who could neither bark nor bite, and who could be silent. These qualifications were possessed by the old lady, and for some years she had trailed through a rather giddy world at Aurora's heels. In her own dull way she was fond of the young woman, but was far from suspecting that Aurora was connected in an underhand manner with the law. That knowledge would indeed have shaken Miss Stably to the soul, as she had a holy dread of the law, and always avoided the police-court column when she read the newspapers.

This was the old lady who sat in the pink drawing-room to play propriety for Miss Qian. Lord George Sandal was present, looking rather washed out, but as gentlemanly as ever. Hay, with his fixed eye-glass and eternally cold smile was there, and a third young man, who adored Miss Qian, thinking her to be merely an actress, simpered across the card-table at his goddess. The four were playing a game which involved the gaining and losing of much money, and they had been engaged for about an hour. Miss Stably having eaten a good dinner and commenced a new shawl was half dosing in the corner, and paying absolutely no attention to the players.

"It's a good thing we're hanging on our own hooks in this game," said Miss Qian, who smoked a dainty cigarette. "Were I your partner, Sandal," she always addressed her friends in this free-and-easy fashion, "I'd be losing money. What luck you have!"

"I never do seem to win," lamented Lord George. "Whenever I think I've got a good hand, the thing pans out wrong."

"Hay has got all the money," said the simpering admirer who answered to the name of Tempest. "He and you, Miss Qian, are the winners."

"I've made very little," she replied. "Hay's raking in the dollars hand over fist."

"Lucky in love, unlucky at cards," said Hay, who did not like his good fortune to be commented upon, for reasons which Miss Qian knew. "It's the reverse with me—I'm lucky at cards—"

"And lucky in love, too," interrupted Aurora, with a grimace, "seeing you're going to marry that Krill heiress—if she is an heiress."

"What do you mean?" asked Hay, who was dealing a new round.

"Go on with the game and don't ask questions," said Miss Qian, in a saucy manner. "Sandal, don't stare round, but keep your eye on the cards," and she winked stealthily at the young lord, while Hay was exchanging a word with Tempest. The young man, who had spoken privately to her immediately before the dinner, knew well what she meant. Had Hay been likewise "in the know," he would scarcely have done what he did do, and which Sandal saw him do in a few minutes.

Hay was rapidly dealing, and the cards were flying like leaves. A pile of gold stood beside Hay's elbow, and some silver near Tempest. The game commenced, and soon the players were engrossed, heedless of the patent snoring of Miss Stably, who, poor old thing, had succumbed to the lateness of the hour. Suddenly Lord George, who had been very vigilant, felt his foot touched under the table by Miss Qian. He rose at once and snatched up the gold standing near Hay.

"What's that for?" demanded Hay, angrily.

"You're cheating," said Sandal, "and I don't play with you any more."

"That's a lie. I did not cheat."

"Yes, you did," cried Miss Qian, bending forward and seizing the cards; "we've been watching you. Tempest—"

"I saw it all right," said the other. "You took up that king—"

"And it's marked," said Aurora. "I believe Hay's got cards up his sleeve. Examine the cards."

Hay, very pale, but still keeping his countenance, tried to object, but the two young men seized and held him, while Miss Qian, with a dexterity acquired in detective circles, rapidly searched his pockets.

"Here's another pack," she cried, and shook an ace and two kings out of the detected swindler's sleeve, "and these cards—"

Sandal took one and went to the lamp. "Marked, by Jove!" he cried, but with a stronger oath; "here's a pin-prick."

"You are mistaken," began Hay, quite pale.

"No," said Tempest, coolly, "we're not. Miss Qian told us you cheated, and we laid a trap for you. You've been trying this double card and marked card dodge several times this very evening."

"And he's tried it lots of times before," said Aurora, quickly. "I have been at several places where Hay scooped the pool, and it was all cheating."

"If it was," said Hay, with quivering lips, "why didn't you denounce me then and there?"

"Because I denounce you now," she said; "you're cooked, my man. These boys will see that the matter is made public."

"By Jove, yes!" cried Sandal, with a look of abhorrence at Hay, "and I'll prosecute you to get back those thousands you won off me."

"I never did—"

"You've been rooking this boy for months," cried Miss Qian. "Here, Tempest, get a constable. We'll give him in charge for swindling."

"No! no!" cried Hay, his nerve giving way under the threatened exposure; "you'll have your money back, Sandal, I swear."

"Lord George to you now, you blackguard; and how can you pay me the money when I know you haven't got a cent?"

"He intends to get it from the heiress," sniggered Aurora.

"Oh, dear me!" rose the plaintive voice of the sheep-dog, "what is it, Aurora? Anything wrong?"

"We've caught Hay cheating, that's all, and the police—"

"Oh, Aurora, don't bring up the police."

"No, don't," said Hay, who was now trembling. "I'll do whatever you like. Don't show me up—I'm—I'm going to be married soon."

"No, you sha'n't marry," cried Tempest, sharply; "I'll see this girl myself and save her from you."

"You can't prove that I cheated," said Hay, desperately.

"Yes, we can," said George. "I, and Miss Qian, and Tempest all saw you cheat, and Miss Qian has the marked cards."

"But don't expose me. I—I—" Hay broke down and turned away with a look of despair on his face. He cursed himself inwardly for having ventured to cheat when things, by the marriage with Maud Krill, would have soon been all right for him. "Miss Qian," he cried in a tone of agony, "give me another chance."

Aurora, playing her own game, of which the two young men were ignorant, appeared to repent. She beckoned to Miss Stably. "Take Mr. Hay into the dining-room," she said, "and I'll see what I can do. But you try and bolt, Hay, and the news will be all over the West End to-morrow."

"I'll stop," said Hay, whose face was colorless, and, without another word, he followed the sheep-dog into the dining-room in an agony of mind better imagined than described. Then Miss Qian turned her attention to her guests:

"See here, boys," she said frankly, "this is a dirty business, and I don't want to be mixed up with it."

"But Hay should be exposed," insisted Sandal; "he's been rooking me, I do believe, for months."

"Serve you jolly well right," said Aurora, heartlessly. "I warned you again and again against him. But if there's a row, where do I come in?"

"It won't hurt you," said Tempest, eagerly.

"Oh, won't it? Gambling in my flat, and all the rest of it. You boys may think me free and easy but I'm straight. No one can say a word against me. I'm not going to be made out an adventuress and a bad woman for the sake of that swindler, Hay. So you boys will just hold your tongues."

"No," said Sandal, "my money—"

"Oh, bother your money. One would think you were a Jew. I'll see that Hay pays it back. He's going to marry this Krill girl, and she's able to supply the cash."

"But the girl shouldn't be allowed to marry Hay," said Tempest.

"Don't you burn your fingers with other people's fire," said Aurora, sharply. "This girl's in love with him and will marry him in spite of everything. But I don't care a cent for that. It's myself I'm thinking of. If I get your money back, Sandal, will you hold your tongue?"

Lord George, thinking of what his noble father would say were he involved in a card scandal connected with an actress, thought it just as well to agree. "Yes," said he, hesitatingly, "I'll not say a word, if you get the money back. But don't you let Hay speak to me again in public or I'll kick him."

"That's your affair and his," said Aurora, delighted at having gained her point; "but you hold your tongue, and you, Tempest?"

"I'll not say a word either," said the young man, with a shrug, "though I don't see why you should save this blackguard's reputation."

"It's my own I'm thinking of, so don't you make any mistake. And now I have both your promises?"

"Yes," said Sandal and Tempest, thinking it best to hush the matter up; "but Hay—"

"I'll see to him. You two boys clear out and go home to bed."

"But we can't leave you alone with Hay," said Tempest.

"I'll not be alone with him," cried the little woman, imperiously; "my companion is with me. What do you mean?"

"He might do you some harm."

"Oh! might he? You take me for a considerable idiot, I suppose. You get along, boys, and leave me to fix up things."

Both young men protested again; but Aurora, anxious for her conversation with Hay, bundled them out of the flat and banged the door to, when she heard them whistling below for a hansom. Then she went to the dining-room.

"You come along to the drawing-room," she said to Hay. "Miss Stably, stop here."

"I haven't got my shawl," bleated the old lady.

"Oh, bother," Aurora ran to the other room, snatched up the shawl and saw Miss Stably sitting down to knit, while she led Hay back into the drawing-room. He looked round when he entered.

"Where are they?" he asked, sitting down.

"Gone; but it's all right. I've made them promise not to say—"

Grexon Hay didn't let her finish. He fell on his knees and kissed her hand. His face was perfectly white, but his eyes were full of gratitude as he babbled his thanks. No one could have accused him of being cold then. But Miss Qian did not approve of this emotion, natural though it was.

"Here, get up," she said, snatching her hand away. "I've got to speak straight to you. I've done a heap for you, now you've got to do a heap for me."

"Anything—anything," said Hay, whose face was recovering its normal color. "You have saved me—you have."

"And much of a thing you are to save. You'll be cheating again in a week or so."

"No," cried Hay, emphatically, "I swear I'll not touch a card again. I'll marry Maud and turn respectable. Oh, what a lesson I've had! You are sure those fellows won't speak?"

"No. That's all right. You can go on swindling as before, only," Miss Qian raised a finger, "you'll have to pay Sandal back some cash."

"I'll do that. Maud will lend me the money. Does he want all?"

"Oh, a couple of thousand will shut his mouth. I'll not see you left. It's all right, so sit up and don't shake there like a jelly."

"You're very kind to me," said Hay, faintly.

"Don't you make any mistake. So far as I am concerned you might stick in the mud forever. I helped you, because I want you to help me. I'm in want of money—"

"I'll give you some."

"Picked from that girl's pockets," said Aurora, dryly, "no, thank you. It might dirty my fingers. Listen—there's a reward offered for the discovery of the murderer of Aaron Norman. I want to get that thousand pounds, and you can help me to."

Hay started to his feet with amazement. Of all the requests she was likely to make he never thought it would be such a one. "Aaron Norman's murder," he said, "what do you know of that?"

"Very little, but you know a lot."

"I don't, I swear I don't."

"Pish," said Miss Qian, imperiously, "remember I've got the whip-hand, my boy. Just you tell me how Mrs. Krill came to strangle the—"

"Mrs. Krill?" Hay turned white again, and his eye-glass fell. "She had nothing to do with the matter. I swear—"

"Strikes me you swear too much, Mr. Hay. What about that opal brooch you stole from Beecot when he had the smash?"

"I didn't steal it. I never saw it at the time of the accident."

"Then you got that boy Tray to steal it."

"I knew nothing about the boy. Besides, why should I steal that opal serpent brooch?"

"You wanted to buy it from Beecot, anyhow?"

Hay looked puzzled. "Yes, for a lady."

"Mrs. Krill?"

"I admit that Mrs. Krill wanted it. She had associations connected with that brooch."

"I know," interrupted Aurora, glancing at the clock, "don't waste time in talking of Lady Rachel Sandal's death—"

"How do you know about that?" stammered Hay, completely nonplussed.

"I know a mighty lot of things. I may as well tell you," added Miss Qian, coolly, "since you daren't split, that I've got a lot to do with the secret detective service business. I'm helping another to hunt out evidence for this case, and I guess you know a lot."

The man quailed. He knew that he did not stand well with the police and dreaded what this little fluffy woman should do. Aurora read his thoughts. "Yes," she said, "we know a heap about you at the Scotland Yard Office, and if you don't tell me all you know, I'll make things hot for you. This cheating to-night is only one thing. I know you are 'a man on the market,' Mr. Hay."

"What do you wish to hear?" asked Hay, collapsing.

"All about Mrs. Krill's connection with this murder."

"She has nothing to do with it. Really, she hasn't. Aaron Norman was her husband right enough—"

"And he ran away from her over twenty years ago. But who told Mrs. Krill about him?"

"I did," confessed Hay, volubly and seeing it was best for him to make a clean breast of it. "I met the Krills three years ago when I was at Bournemouth. They lived in Christchurch, you know."

"Yes. Hotel-keepers. Well, what then?"

"I fell in love with Maud and went to Christchurch to stop at 'The Red Pig.' She loved me, and in a year we became engaged. But I had no money to marry her, and she had none either. Then Mrs. Krill told me of her husband and of the death of Lady Rachel."

"Murder or suicide?"

"Suicide, Mrs. Krill said," replied Hay, frankly. "She told me also about the opal brooch and described it. I met Beecot by chance and greeted him as an old school-fellow. He took me to his attic and to my surprise showed me the opal brooch. I wanted to buy it for Mrs. Krill, but Beecot would not sell it. When next I met him, he told me that Aaron Norman had fainted when he saw the brooch. I thought this odd, and informed Mrs. Krill. She described the man to me, and especially said that he had but one eye. I went with Beecot to the Gwynne Street shop, and a single glance told me that Aaron Norman was Lemuel Krill. I told his wife, and she wanted to come up at once. But I knew that Aaron was reported rich—which I had heard through Pash—and as he was my lawyer, I suggested that the Krills should go and see him."

"Which they did, before the murder?"

"Yes. Pash was astonished, and when he heard that Mrs. Krill was the real wife, he saw that Aaron Norman, as he called himself, had committed bigamy, and that Sylvia—"

"Yes, you needn't say it," said Miss Qian, angrily, "she's worth a dozen of that girl you are going to marry. But why did you pretend to meet Mrs. Krill and her daughter for the first time at Pash's?"

"To blind Beecot. We were standing at the door when the two came out, and I pretended to see them for the first time. Then I told Beecot that I had been introduced to Maud at Pash's office. He's a clever chap, Beecot, and, being engaged to Sylvia Norman, I thought he might find out too much."

"About the murder?"

Hay rose and looked solemn. "I swear I know nothing of that," he said decidedly, "and the Krills were as astonished as I, when they heard of the death. They were going to see him by Pash's advice, and Mrs. Krill was going to prosecute him for bigamy unless he allowed her a good income. Death put an end to all that, so she made up the story of seeing the hand-bills, and then of course the will gave the money to Maud, who was engaged to me."

"The will or what was called a will, gave the money to Sylvia," said Aurora, emphatically; "but this brooch—you didn't take it?"

"No, I swear I didn't. Mrs. Krill wanted it, but I never knew it was of any particular importance. Certainly, I would never have risked robbing Beecot, and I never told that boy Tray to rob either."

"Then who took the brooch."

"I can't say. I have told you all I know."

"Hum," said Aurora, just like her brother, "that will do to-night; but if I ask any more questions you'll have to answer, so now you can go. By the way, I suppose the brooch made you stick to Beecot?"

"Yes," said Hay, frankly; "he was of no use to me. But while he had the brooch I stuck to him to get it for Mrs. Krill."

"Queer," said Aurora. "I wonder why she wanted it so much!" but this question Hay was unable to answer.

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