te esteemed client's lawful
daughter, and I will act for you."

Mrs. Krill's ample bosom rose and fell and her eyes glittered
triumphantly. She cast a victorious glance at Beecot. But that young man
was looking at the solicitor. "Rats leave the sinking ship," said he,
bitterly; "you will not prosper, Pash."

"Everyone prospers who protects the widow and the orphan," said Pash, in
a pious tone, and so disgusted Paul that he closed the door with a bang
and went out. Tray was playing chuck-farthing at the door and keeping
Mr. Grexon Hay from coming in.

"You there, Beecot?" said this gentleman, coldly. "I wish you would tell
this brat to let me enter."

"Brat yourself y' toff," cried Tray, pocketing his money. "Ain't I
a-doin' as my master tells me? He's engaged with two pretty women"--he
leered in a way which made Paul long to box his ears--"so I don't spile
sport. You've got tired of them, Mr. Beecot?"

"How do you know Mr. Beecot's name?" asked Hay, calmly.

"Lor', sir. Didn't you and me pull him from under the wheels?"

"Oh," said Grexon, suddenly enlightened, "were you the boy? Since you
have washed your face I didn't recognize you. Well, Beecot, you look
disturbed."

"I have reason to. And since you and this boy pulled me from under the
wheels of the motor," said Paul, glancing from one to the other, "I
should like to know what became of the brooch."

"I'm sure I don't know," said Grexon, quietly. "We talked of this
before. I gave it as my opinion, if you remember, that it was picked up
in the street by the late Aaron Norman and was used to seal his mouth.
At least that is the only way in which I can conjecture you lost it."

"You never saw it drop from my pocket?"

"I should have picked it up and returned it had I seen it," said Hay,
fixing his eye-glass. "Perhaps this boy saw it."

"Saw what?" asked Tray, who was listening with both his large ears.

"An old blue-velvet case with a brooch inside," said Beecot, quickly.

Tray shook his head vigorously. "If I'd seen it I' ha' nicked it," he
said impudently; "catch me givin' it back t' y', Mr. Beecot. There's a
cove I knows--a fence that is--as 'ud give me lots fur it. Lor'," said
Tray, with deep disappointment, "to think as that dropped out of your
pocket and I never grabbed it. Wot crewel luck--ho!" and he spat.

Paul looked hard at the boy, who met his gaze innocently enough.
Apparently he spoke in all seriousness, and really lamented the lost
chan