Forde had sat down to hear Mrs. Krent’s revelations, but when she mentioned the Death’s Head he started to his feet again.

‘I am glad to hear you mention that, Mrs. Krent,’ said he vigorously, ‘for I have an idea that the Death’s Head has much to do with the murder.’

‘What makes you think that?’ demanded Dericka, while the housekeeper leaned back and loosened her bonnet-strings with an enigmatic expression of countenance.

‘Remember what Miss Warry said, my dear, that Bowring turned pale and was very surprised when he saw the skull in the tent. Depend upon it, the thing had some disagreeable memory for him, and such a memory may have to do with his death.’

‘I don’t quite follow you or agree with you, Oswald.’

‘Oh, I may be wrong,’ answered the barrister, dropping back into his seat; ‘all the same, that idea is firmly fixed in my head. However, no doubt Mrs. Krent here will be able to account for Bowring’s fears when he beheld the beastly thing.’

‘No,’ said Mrs. Krent, unexpectedly. ‘I can’t explain why Mr. Bowring feared it, although I know that he did.’

‘Then you cannot elucidate the mystery?’

‘Not of the Death’s Head. There is only one person can do that, as he gave me a hint about it once in Cape Town.’

‘Who is the person?’

‘My husband.’

‘And where is he?’

‘Ah, my dear young lady, I am as ignorant as you are on that point.’

‘But, Mrs. Krent —’

‘There isn’t any “but” about it,’ rejoined the housekeeper with asperity, and her hands trembled; ‘don’t speak of the man or I’ll lose my temper. If ever there was a scoundrel who walked on two legs he was Samuel Krent.’

‘Was he a German?’ asked Forde; ‘the name sounds German.’

‘I don’t know what he was. He called himself English, and came, so he said, from New Zealander. But he was a bad man, and left me to starve. I should have done so but for Bowring,’ ended Mrs. Krent, and her listeners noticed that she dropped the prefix to the millionaire’s name.

‘Well,’ said Forde leisurely, ‘scraps of intelligence of this sort only serve to confuse. Suppose you begin at the beginning, Mrs. Krent, and tell us exactly what you mean.’

‘My dears,’ said the woman, with a vulgar familiarity, which neither of the young people liked, ‘you’re asking me to tell you my life history, which would take hours to relate. I’ll tell what I can, as briefly as possible. I’ve had a hard time, a very hard time,’ sighed Mrs. Krent, looking at her hands in the mauve gloves — admiringly, perhaps; ‘trouble is second nature with me.’

‘Your troubles will be over when you get the two thousand a year, Mrs. Krent,’ observed Dericka, comforting the woman.

‘Ah, my dear, money ain’t everything. Just when I’m settled down that husband of mine will turn up to make trouble. He always did, he always will. I’ve got a temper myself, and can hold my own with most people, but not with Samuel. No! no!’ Mrs. Krent shook her head with a weak smile. ‘Old Nick is Samuel’s father, and Samuel may be with him for all I know; I hope he is.’

‘Go on,’ said Forde, rather impatient and anxious to get to the truth so far as it concerned Bowring; ‘begin at the beginning.’

‘Ah!’ sighed Mrs. Krent, again shaking her head, ‘that takes me back many, many years. I was born in Whitechapel, and got good schooling when I was a gal, for my people were plumbers and well-to-do. I was a fine buxom gal, my dears, and when I went into service I had many an offer of marriage. I took Jerry Ward, who worked as a shoemaker. Him and me went to Africa, and there he died, poor soul, just three years after my Jenny was born.’

‘Oh!’ said Dericka, rather surprised; ‘I thought your daughter was Jenny Krent?’

‘Jenny Ward is her real name, my dear, called after her first father, though to prevent muddle I did allow her to say she was Krent, that being the name of my second. But she’s neither Krent nor Ward now, my dears, but Mrs. Jane Bowring.’

‘You can prove the marriage?’ asked Forde quickly.

Mrs. Krent drew herself up with an offended air. ‘I can show you the certificate,’ she said. ‘Jenny’s a good girl, and I’m a respectable woman. But that can come later. I want to tell all carefully, my dears, so that you may understand.’

‘Yes, yes. Go on.’

Mrs. Krent settled herself comfortably and continued, pleased, as a chattering person always is, to find herself the centre of attraction, and with attentive listeners.

‘Ward died, as I said,’ she resumed, ‘leaving me a lone widow woman with Jenny, quite a baby. I went out washing in Cape Town, for there we lived. Ward emigrated to better himself, but, Lord bless you, he was took off with consumption in a jiffy.’

‘And what did you do?’ asked Dericka, anxious to bring Mrs. Krent back to the point.

‘I took in washing, my dears, as I said. Them niggers washed, too, but none of them could starch shirts like me, so I did well with the laundry. That was over twenty years ago,’ sighed Mrs. Krent.

‘I was a baby then,’ murmured Dericka.

‘Yes, Miss, and so was Jenny. Then I saw your pa. He was always fond of clean linen, and came to my laundry. More than that, he was so pleased with my washing that he brought along Bowring and Krent.’

‘Were those three together?’ asked the barrister suddenly.

‘In partnership, as you might say, Mr. Forde; they did business over diamonds and gold and anything by which they could turn an honest penny. Sir Hannibal, who was friendly with me for so fine a gentleman, talked quite freely, and said that he had come out to make a fortune. How he fell in with Bowring, I can’t say, but he did, up at Kimberley, I think, and Bowring, being clever without money, and Sir Hannibal having money, without being clever — asking your pardon, my dear — the two thought they’d join forces and make a fortune.’

‘And Krent?’

‘He was a kind of sleeping partner,’ said the housekeeper; ‘he did the dirty work.’

‘Then there was dirty work?’ demanded Forde, significantly.

‘Plenty of it. Sir Hannibal, again asking your pardon, my dear, was a fine gentleman, but not clever. Bowring was too much for him, and for Krent, too. It was Bowring who made the money, and a blackguard he was, shame that I should say so, my dears, seeing he has been so good to me, and is dead, not to speak of the fact that he’s my brother-inlaw.’

‘Your brother-inlaw?’ cried the listeners, simultaneously.

‘By marriage,’ explained Mrs. Krent, ‘else I shouldn’t have let my Jenny marry Morgan. Bowring married Ward’s sister, and as he was my first husband that makes —’

‘All right,’ said Forde, cutting her short. ‘We understand the relationship, Mrs. Krent. Go on.’

‘Well, then, as I say,’ pursued the housekeeper, ‘Bowring married Amelia Ward shortly after my first husband’s death. She was not quite right in her head, poor thing, and they say that Bowring treated her cruelly. She died five years later, leaving Morgan, and as Bowring couldn’t be bothered with the boy, and I was a relative, he left him to me to bring up. Then he and Sir Hannibal went to the Transvaal, after diamonds, I suppose. Krent waited behind, and you could have knocked me down with a feather,’ said Mrs. Krent, lifting her hands, ‘when he asked me to marry him.’

‘You did?’ queried Dericka.

‘My dear, Krent told me a story of his future wealth, and as I was tired of washing I took him. He had pretty ways, too,’ added Mrs. Krent, thoughtfully, ‘but, Lord bless you, that was only at the beginning of the marriage. Afterwards he became a brute, and took all my money and went to the Transvaal after Sir Hannibal and Bowring, leaving me with next to nothing, keeping Jenny and Morgan, who were both well grown by then.’

‘When did you see him again?’

‘Not for years and years. One night he appeared in the rain, just such a night as this, my dears. He was at the door, and when I saw his face in the light of a lamp I gave a shriek — it was so white and horrid-looking. He came in and said that he wanted money and a bed. Bowring had kicked him out of the firm and was making money fast.’

‘Why was Krent kicked out?’

The housekeeper lowered her voice and cast a frightened look round the room. ‘I wouldn’t tell everyone,’ she said, softly, ‘but I’ve promised to make a clean breast of it to that young lady. Krent told me that Bowring had forged Sir Hannibal’s name to some bills, and these Sir Hannibal kept hanging over Bowring’s head.’

‘That is not true,’ said Dericka, indignantly............