d had
lost something of his desperate air. The fact is, the police had
taken Black Bill into their employ, and he was doing very well in his
new occupation. The other was a sharp, wiry man, with a cunning face
and a restless, fidgety manner. Both he and Black Bill looked
carefully at the boy, and at length the sharp man spoke:

"You young rascal, do you know who I am?"

The boy started and looked aghast, terrified by such an address.

"No, Sir," he whimpered.

"Well, I'm Thomas S. Davis, detective. Do you understand what that
means?"

"Yes'r," said the boy, whose self-possession completely vanished at
so formidable an announcement.

"Come now, young fellow," said Davis, "you've got to own up. Who are
you?"

"I'm the son of Mr. B. F. Baker, grocer, Blackwall," said the boy, in
a quick monotone.

"What street?"

"Queen Street, No. 17," said the boy.

"There ain't no such street."

"There is, 'cos he lives there."

"You young rascal, don't you suppose I know?"

"Well, I oughter know the place where I was bred and bornd," said the
boy.

"You're a young scamp. You needn't try to come it over me, you know.
Why, I know Blackwall by heart. There isn't such a street there. Who
sent you here?"

"Father."

"What for?"

"He got a letter from a man as used to stop here, askin' of him to
get his things away."

"What is the name of the man?"

"Mr. Brown."

"Brown?"

"Yes'r."

"Where is this Mr. Brown now?"

"In Liverpool."

"How did he get there?"

"He's just come back from America."

"See here, boy, you've got to own up," said Davis, suddenly. "I'm a
detective. We belong to the police. So make a clean breast of it."

"Oh, Sir!" said the boy, in terror.

"Never mind 'Oh, Sir!' but own up," said Davis. "You've got to do
it."

"I ain't got nothin' to own up. I'm sure I don't see why you're so
hard on a poor cove as never did you no harm, nor nobody else."

And saying this the boy sniveled violently.

"I s'pose your dear mamma dressed you up in your Sunday clothes to
come here?" said the detective, sneeringly.

"No, Sir," said the boy, "she didn't, 'cos she's dead, she is."

"Why didn't your father come himself?"

"'Cos he's too busy in his shop."

"Did you ever hear the name of this Brown before to-day?"

"No, Sir, never as I knows on."

"But you said he is a friend of your father's."

"So he is, Sir."

"And you never heard his name before?"

"Never, Sir, in my life, Sir--not t