d laid hands on him.
"You come along with me," he said. "I'll confront you with Pash."

Tray gave a howl of terror. "He'll kill me," he shouted, "as he killed
the old cove. Yuss. _He_ did it. Pash did it," and he howled again.

CHAPTER XXIII

WHAT PASH SAID

In a smoking compartment, which the three had to themselves, Hurd
resumed his examination of Tray. They were now on their way to Liverpool
Street and thence the detective intended to convey the boy to Pash's
office in Chancery Lane. Paul sat in one corner much excited over the
turn events had taken. He began to think that the assassin of Aaron
Norman would be found after all. More, he believed that Sylvia would yet
inherit the five thousand a year she was entitled to, morally, if not
legally. Hurd, in another corner, pulled Tray roughly towards him, and
shook his finger in the lad's face. The boy was sulky and defiant, yet
there was a trace of fear in his eyes, and the reason of this Hurd
wished to learn.

"You're a young liar," said Hurd, emphatically, "and not a clever one
either. Do you think to play the fool with me?"

"I've tole you all straight," grumbled Tray.

"No, you haven't. Anyone can see that you've made a mistake. I leave it
to Mr. Beecot yonder."

"I was about to draw your attention to the mistake," said Paul; "you
mean the discrepancy in time."

Master Clump started and became more sulky than ever. He cast down his
cunning eyes and shuffled with his feet while Hurd lectured him. "You
know well enough," said the detective, sharply, "that the brooch was
boned by you on the very evening when the murder took place. It was
then that Mr. Beecot met with his accident. Therefore, you could not
have given the brooch to Mr. Pash the _next_ morning, as it had been
used on the previous night."

"Sha'n't say anythin' more," retorted Tray, defiantly.

"Oh, won't you?" cried Hurd, ironically, "we'll see about that. You told
that lie about the time to account for your knowing of the murder before
anyone else did."

"No," said Tray, decidedly, "I did go to the shorp in th' mornin'."

"That you may have done, but not to sell the brooch. Mr. Pash had taken
it from you on the previous night."

"He didn't," denied the boy.

"Then in that case you've told a lie. Pash never had the brooch, and has
nothing to do with the murder."

"He _did_ prig the brooch from me, and he _did_ kill the ole cove."

"Well, we'll see what Mr. Pash will say when y